I had just finished writing my reply to Papa's last letter when I picked up his most recent, unopened letter from the desk. He's been writing me more than usual lately, I thought to myself as my eyes lowered onto the envelop. I wonder if something's happened back in Florence…. Maybe Mama's parents found out that I was sent away to get married in what they would refer to as a backwater town. Maybe this had to do with my dowery, though I can't fathom why he'd worry about that. I had more than enough to bring into any marriage…. didn't I? Everyone was aware and made public how much they had to offer whining marrying, but I didn't have an exact monetary amount to say yet. Should I be concerned? Surely not. I'm just overthinking everything again.

I opened the envelop and pulled out Papa's folded letter. My eyes widened in surprise when three little rectangular cards fell onto my lap. They were calling cards which had simply my name on them- nothing more. I looked one over and frowned. For some odd reason I always pictured any calling cards I had to be pink, not a plain eggshell white. But I suppose it was the fashion now…. Papa's letter read, all in French: "Dearest daughter. I am pleased to inform you that the valuation of your uncle's enterprise has been performed. We should hear of the results soon. As you'll notice, I have taken the liberty of including some calling cards for you to sample. I am aware that you will not property enter society until the tender age of nineteen, but I thought it best to prepare for that supreme affair as early as possible. It has been brought to my attention that I have not been managing you correctly. Forgive me, my dear. Bringing a daughter out into society is the prerogative of the mother. But rest assured, the unfortunate circumstance shall soon be rectified. I understand the lack of society you are submerged in in Portorosso, but you and I must remember that the preservation of my father- your grandfather- and uncle's business must be cemented by marriage…."

I stopped reading here to glance back down at the card in my other hand in a detached sort of way. It's been brought to his attention, has it? I wonder who's responsible for that. It's almost as if he's regretting his decision to send me out here, surrendering his only daughter to his only brother. Not that I blame him. The culture back in Florence is very different than here. If I married beneath my station- as would be inevitable if I did marry someone from Portorosso- it would reflect badly on not only my father but also my grandparents. And god forbid if I never properly débuted in society…..

My lips pursed together. My fingers were squeezing the card so hard that it began to bend. But what's the point? What's the point in him sending me these stupid, little things? We both know that if I get married here in Portorosso I'll never enter high society. Why would I? The whole point is for me to find a well-to-do husband. It's like one big game, one where you network and fight for the most eligible bachelor's attention. There was a time when I thought playing the game was also inevitable, but now I don't want to. I don't want calling cards; I don't need calling cards. No one out here would understand what they're for anyway. All of this is so Papa can keep a tight hold of me- or at least try to- from hundreds of miles away. He wants to hold onto the image of me being a proper lady more than I do. Again, not that I can blame him. He's invested so much money in my education and reputation. He's done everything for me…. except perhaps hand me over to a brother who needs someone to take over the family business. He did what was right and best for the family, and yet he may be reconsidering his choice. How could he not be, when I'll be doing the exact same thing my mother did? In his eyes, I'm making the same mistake- if a necessary one- that she made when she married my father. I'm a lady, and ladies marry gentlemen….

I got up from my chair and went downstairs. Uncle was still out in the garden tending to his tomato plants. I meanwhile made my way over to the small mirror in the hall to look at myself. I examined myself, or rather my face intently. It looked the same…. I still looked the same as I did back in Florence, save for maybe a bit of a tan now. I hadn't been using my parasol very much anymore, and all without my realizing I hadn't been…. I looked at same, but I no longer felt the same. I didn't see a lady whose sole purpose in life was to marry at her father's pleasure and give her husband loyalty and a male heir. I saw…. a person. Someone with her own desires and dreams. Someone with her own cultivated, precious friendships…. Someone who has a future.

I was still staring at my reflection when Uncle came in through the back door. He removed his gardening gloved and looked at me puzzled. "Niece? What are you doing? Is everything alright?" I paused here, simply gazing over in his direction with a contemplative expression. "How do you see me, Zio?" "Huh? What do you mean?" "Just…. how do you me? How do I look to you? Do you see a lady or…..?"

Uncle stopped here too to stare back at me. He placed his hand firmly on the kitchen chair. "Does this have anything to do with your father's letter?" Uncle was always the one who delivered them to me, so he knew that I likely read Papa's most recent letter this morning. When I said nothing he let out a somewhat frustrated huff. "I don't know what that man is thinking, treating you this way. He was born and raised in Portorosso, for Christ's sake! And now he's acting like he's so above his roots just because he lives in a big city. The only reason he's in Florence is because he's the second son. He's had to move to find work, in case he's forgotten that little fact. Does he think he did it on his own, or could have done it on his own? No! He wouldn't be where he is now if he didn't marry your mother."

I stayed silent during this little rant, watching Uncle with very large eyes. I'd never heard him or anyone talk about my father that way before. It was sort of alarming….. in a cathartic way. Uncle took a few much-needed long inhales here before glancing back to me, almost as if he forgot I was standing there in the room with him. One look my way and his eyes instantly softened.

"Sorry, niece. I didn't mean to yell. I just don't like what your father's doing to you. You live in Portorosso now; that part of your life back in Florence is done. It's over now. You'll marry a local man and that will be that. My brother needs to accept it, plain and simple." "I know, and I agree with you, Zio. But it must be hard for my father…. Heh, it's still hard for me to accept sometimes," I chuckled while my eyes gazed down. Uncle gave a hum and nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would be. But you seem to be doing alright here, Ilaria." "I think so. I definitely don't feel so out of place here anymore. I'm happy here with you," I said with a smile, making my uncle watch me with some severity for a moment. I noticed his fingers on his hand twiddle with themselves.

"So…. how does work exactly?" "What?" My eyebrow raised somewhat. Uncle kept twiddling his fingers somewhat awkwardly. "You just… need my permission, don't you? You can get married if I agree to it, right?" My fingers snapped together. "Oh…. Oh! You mean marriage! Yes, technically that's correct. You're my guardian now, so presumably with your blessing, I could get married to anyone at any time. It doesn't have to be as complex as back in Florence. Yes, I think your permission is all that's required out here."

Uncle thought for a moment, still rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He didn't look me in the eye when he spoke next. "You know, Alberto's really good at fishing. Really good… I don't think there's anyone in the village who can match him out on the water." My eyes slowly began to grow, my jaw drop. "Zio, what are you saying?" "How do you….? You like him, don't you?" "Well, yes; very much so! He's my dearest friend…. He's precious to me." Uncle's head nodded in a contemplative, calculating fashion. Only then did his stare return to mine. It was so unbelievably sincere. "Hmmmmm, that's good; we'll go with that." "What are you talking about, Zio? Are you…. giving me your blessing?" My cheeks began to sizzle as it dawned on me what was happening. He looked me straight in the eye.

"Like I said, we don't have to rush things. There's time. But just so you know, niece: I like the boy. He's a good fellow, and he cares a great deal for you." "W-Well, yes? I-I know. I care for him too." "I know you do," he chuckled, giving his head a little shake. I didn't say anything more as he came up beside me to rest his broad hand on my shoulder. Our gazes met again. "You and Alberto can take your time with everything. Just know that when that time eventually comes, you have my permission." "Zio!" My eyes were as wide as dinner plates. His lips let out another small chuckle. "Still, maybe it's too early to tell your father about this. Let's wait until everything's all official-like. That way his objections might have less weight behind them."