Page 24 of Three Times You

When we come to the little piazza, Gabriele parks the car. We get out. Laura—the secretary and administrator of the place and, reporting directly to Pettorini, the chief organizer—comes right out to meet us. First of all, she shows us around the church. It’s small and unadorned, but the light of the setting sun creates a perfect atmosphere, making the place look especially warm. There is seating for roughly a hundred people inside, while the altar, where the ceremony will take place, is on a small dais. Our friends and family will see everything from below.

Laura explains how she’s thinking of bedecking the setting. “Here I’d put some calla lilies, at the front door too, while here, on the floor, white daisies in large bunches, and along the edges of the altar, white roses…”

Francesca and Gin nod. Laura specifies “Long stem.”

They both smile together. “Yes, of course, naturally.”

Gabriele and I listen as calmly as can be, and he trots out one of his truisms. “There’s no two ways about it, weddings fascinate women greatly and moderately worry men.”

I nod, quite amused, even though deep inside a strange thought suddenly strikes me. What does it mean when he says weddings “moderately worry men”? I mean, yes, but just how moderately? But I decide not to pursue the matter any further.

Then Manlio Pettorini arrives, arms thrown wide and a glowing smile on his face, with thinning hair but a slender, powerful physique. “Gabriele! How nice to see you!”

And they hug with what looks like sincere affection, a real bear hug that makes anyone watching imagine how many significant experiences they must have shared over the years. Gabriele points at Gin.

“Here we go, my Ginevra. You remember her, don’t you?”

Manlio Pettorini slaps his hands together. “Of course I remember her. How could I forget? But how she’s grown! Mamma mia!”

“My wife Francesca…”

“Yes, of course. How are you?”

“Fine, Manlio, thanks. And how are you?”

“We can’t complain.”

“And this is Stefano Mancini, the husband-to-be.”

Hearing myself introduced like that has an absurd effect on me, but I smile and extend my hand in his direction. He immediately seizes it, clasping with enormous strength.

“Wow, you don’t know how lucky you are. Do you know how much people envy you? When this young woman came up to see us in Rosciolo, in the village, you should have seen the line of young men in front of her house. She couldn’t get through the door to leave!”

“Yes, I know. It’s true, I’m a lucky man.”

And Manlio Pettorini looks at me with great satisfaction. “That’s right! And now, by all means, let’s all sit down at the table because I’m curious to know what you think of it.”

Gin locks arms with me. “Oh, lucky man, be a good gentleman and walk me to the table.”

“Certainly, lovely peasant girl with a long line in front of your house…”

“Dummy.” And she elbows me in the ribs.

“Ouch…”I say in a subdued voice.

“Look out now. I’m a peasant girl with a mean right hook…”

“Yes, I know. I can feel it!”

And we all sit down together at a large table under a gigantic fig tree with broad leaves. The sun reflects off the lake, and the view is marvelous from this corner of the town.

Pettorini explains exactly what he has in mind. “All right, then, I’ll put the kitchen back here…”And he points to the far end of the lawn, which is opposite the location of the church. “But the tables will be arranged right here, under the trees, which will make it less muggy and more comfortable. Overhead we’ll have awnings, for the same reason, and hanging lights. They’ll all be connected on a single string so that each table will be illuminated but not excessively so.”

Gabriele looks at him with great satisfaction. “Manlio really knows how to do his job.”

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? I love the work I do. And now, at last, I can do it the way I like. Not like when I organized dinners for the Italian Senate at Palazzo Madama. Can you believe it, there it was the ushers who decided what we’d eat on all the most important occasions? And you can’t imagine how passionate they were about the choice of wines!”

“And so are we!” Gabriele slams his fist on the table, pretending to be quite demanding himself.

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