I was out in the garden dancing for the birds. A small flock of them sat perched by to see my ballet steps, each one full of more grace than the last. A symphony was playing away in my mind, helping me to move along. I had just completed a twirl to Beethoven's sixth symphony when an unexpected voice almost made me fall forward flat on my face. "What are you doing?"

Talk about an abrupt halt to everything. The heels of my feet spun right around and I looked up at the garden wall. "A-Alberto! Oh my god, you startled me! What are you doing here?" "Came to pop in to say hi. Why're you moving all around like that?" he jumped down off the wall in front of me. After a few more stabling breaths I frowned. "I was dancing. And you can't just sneak in here like that! No one's supposed to see me dancing out here." "How come? And before you say anything, I didn't "sneak in". Massimo saw me climb over the wall," Alberto's eyes trailed off behind me. I spun back around to find my uncle standing at the back door with a bundle of branches in his arm. He tried to look as innocent and innocuous as ever. But I still shot him a monstrous glare. "You knew he was there?!" I demanded angrily. Uncle set down the bundle and scratched his neck, all while avoiding eye contact with me. "I may have seen him come in." "I can't believe this," giving them both an upset glare, I huffed and stomped back into the kitchen.

"Ah, don't be upset, niece. You're a very good dancer. You shouldn't be ashamed of it," Uncle and Alberto followed me inside. "I'm not ashamed of it, Zio. It's inappropriate for a man to watch a lady dance alone- you know that. I can dance privately in front of my husband. I mean, what would Papa say?" "Speaking of your father, you've got a letter," Uncle pulled out an envelope from his pants' pocket. "A letter from Papa?" Curiously I took it, opened it up, and pulled out the folded piece of paper. It was a bulky letter, much fatter than the ones Papa usually sends, and upon opening the paper I discovered why. Papa had included a decorative hair comb- one set with jewels in the shape of a butterfly. Accompanying it was a letter, and a long one. My grin began to fade as I examined the page.

"What does it say?" Both men asked me in unison like it was natural that they should both want to hear. I began: "Dearest daughter. Your uncle informs me that you want to start making deliveries… Zio Massimo!" He shrugged his shoulders pensively. "He's my brother and he has a right to know what you're up to." Frowning, I continued to read. "It is both my duty and my disappointment to remind you that you are- at all times- a lady. It is not the prerogative of a lady to work in any sense of the word. I know you wish to help your uncle and be a good niece, but the only way you can help your family is by marrying well. If you work then you are liable to confuse the good citizens of Portorosso of your station. There is no reason why a girl with as many charms and accomplishments as you possess should be in the difficult position of finding a husband….." I stopped reading here, too humiliated to go on. My cheeks were red and my hand rose up to cover my eyes. Neither of the men said anything; just watched me quietly as I tried my best not to tear up. My bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. "Stupid…. I'm so stupid. You were right, Zio. A lady like me has no business…. delivering fish. I'll wash your clothes and return them to you. Thank you for letting me borrow them." "Ilaria, I didn't mean for this to happen…." Uncle's hand reached out for me. I sucked in a long breath, let my own hand fall, and shook my head. "It's not your fault; I should have known better. Papa's right; I'm here for one thing and one thing only. I can't… let myself get distracted anymore." "Like I said when you first arrived: you don't have to get married this summer. You can take your time, niece." "But I won't be this young forever." "Bah! I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. With all your charms and grace, men will be crawling over themselves to marry you," he waved his hand around in a casual sort of way.

Alberto scratched under his chin, clearly lost on the whole conversation. "What are these "charms" and "accomplishments" everyone keeps referring to?" He asked me. I smiled over at him tenderly; it was refreshing to speak to someone who didn't know or automatically judge you on such social affairs. "Dancing, sewing, the ability to converse in French and German, write and read in Latin, play the piano, have good tastes in dresses and home décor- that sort of thing." "What does that have to do with marriage?" My dear friend genuinely didn't know. I gave a mild single-shoulder shrug. "Nothing directly but refines a lady. All gentlemen in high society want to marry the ladies of the upper classes and nobility. Technically I am not a gentleman's daughter, but I inherited my title through my maternal grandfather, who is a lord." "It's all very convoluted; I never understood it," Uncle said with a shake of the head, taking a seat at the table. Alberto looked at him, then back over at me. His strong, tan finger pointed up my way. "So, you're a "lady"?" "That's right." "And that means you can…. dance?" His eyebrow lifted up mildly unimpressed, which made me laugh. "Oh no! No, it's a lot more than that. One is either born a lady depending on her father's ranking- or grandfather in my case- or one becomes a lady when she marries a gentleman of title or capital. All these charms and accomplishments are just meant to make us more marriageable- that's all."

Alberto thought about it for a moment. Then he scowled completely unimpressed, which made me laugh again. "Well that's really stupid." "Oh, you think so?" "I do! Why should any guy care about all that? So you can read Latin- big deal. What about other things like…. I don't know: like if you like each other?" There was such sincerity and innocence in his tone; something I hadn't heard from any man back in Florence before. I simply stared back his way, a bit in awe. "Gentlemen and ladies don't have to "like" each other. Sure, it's nice if you love or even can stand one another, but there's so much more involved in an engagement." "Such as?" Alberto looked entirely unconvinced. My shoulder shrugged again. "Property, money, family history and status, the occupation of the lady's father if he's in the upper middle class…" "Yeah, but… Why does any of that matter? At a minimum you should like who you're going to spend the rest of your life with. I thought that was common sense." "It's not a requirement for marriage. You "like" your friends," I countered softly with a smile. "We're friends, aren't we?" Alberto blinked to me. "Of course we are! You are a very dear friend of mine- my dearest, I'd say." "Can't friends get married?" He asked and I paused, gazing off into nowhere for a second. Friends? Getting married? I'd never thought about it before! I never thought to consider my husband my "friend". Friends are people you want to be around; marriage on the other hand, just happens. It's like death and taxes- well, if you're a girl anyway. Men were fortunate enough to have more freedom in that regard.

This whole time Uncle had remained quiet, listening off to the side as Alberto and I spoke. But now he had his eyes primarily on Alberto again. There was this knowing, mischievous twinkle in their corners. "Well, seeing as you're not impressed by the traditional charms and accomplishments, what do you find appealing in a lady?" Alberto didn't realize this was a question with intent behind it….. But I did. Alberto's eyes scrolled upward as he scratched his neck again. "Well for starters, we've got to actually like each other. And um…. I don't know what else. I've never really thought about it before. I guess I'd want someone just like Ilaria." "Ilaria?!" Uncle's and my eyes widened. He nodded very, very naïvely. "Yeah! I mean, she's smart, kind, fun, generous- what more could a fellow want?" "You… really think so?" Uncle asked, now staring at Alberto with the upmost intensity. "She's the easiest person I've ever met to be around, and I just like talking to her. I don't know… I just like being with her, I guess. You're very easy to like, Ilaria…." He said while looking straight at me.

All the while Alberto was speaking, I was trying my best- and failing- not to blush. My cheeks were a sizzling beet red when he glanced my way again. We stared at each other for a moment until I smiled. My smile was so deep and profound, I thought there might be an imprint on my face forever more from it. "Thank you, Alberto. It's easy to like you too."

Uncle's eyes shifted once again between the two of us. You could really see the wheels in his head start to turn. Then his gave me a grin. "Isn't it nice to know someone who isn't concerned with all those insignificant social details? I bet Alberto wouldn't care if you made deliveries." "Course not! We could make 'em together! You still need to practice riding downhill," my dearest friend reminded me.

I hesitated. "But Papa's letter…. He made it explicitly clear that a lady doesn't…." Alberto cut me off, coming over to place his hand on my shoulder and flash me a brilliant smile. "Forget about it. No one cares about any of that in Portorosso; no one that matters anyway. We like you for "you", Ilaria. It doesn't matter if you're a lady." "I-It's doesn't work that way….." I shyly countered, though I was losing confidence in my own beliefs by this point. Alberto simply shook his head. "Sure, it does! You don't need to worry about that anymore. That part of your life is over- trust me." Our eyes met once more; his firm and kind, mine shy and tender. "A-Are you sure?" He gave my shoulder a squeeze, his eyes lowering ever so slightly. "I'm your friend. I know what you need." My smile grew on its own accord, my heart beginning to race. "Yes…. I believe you do."

Also still grinning ear-to-ear, Alberto let go of my shoulder. He reached down to pick up the hair comb in my palm. Without making a sound, he brushed my hair off my face and pinned it back with the comb. I felt the backs and tips of his fingers caress along my skin. Nobody broke the sweet silence with any words, and I don't know how long Alberto and I were simply, merely, effortlessly staring at each other like that for beside the kitchen table.