Tony hoisted their luggage into the taxi as Angela crawled in first, offering the driver a weary, "Bongiorno," as she made room for Tony. The flight had been eleven hours, and in spite of the business class seats she had insisted on springing for (Tony insisted on paying the equivalent of two economy tickets) she was feeling the jet lag. They had enjoyed a surprisingly good dinner on the plane, along with wine, followed by a showing of "Sabrina," before nodding off into a light in-flight slumber. She awoke groggy and dehydrated, and could tell Tony was feeling it too. She regretted the wine, but felt it had eased their nervousness about traveling together alone.

"Bongiorno," he showed the driver an address and said in broken Italian, "Qui, per favore?"

"Si, si! A castello di Micelli! Il matrimonio!"

"Ah, si. Il matrimonio."

"Io sono Giuseppi. Famiglia?"

"Si, signore. Ah, I'm Antony - i -" he put a hand behind Angela, "Angela."

"Parli Italiano, Antony?"

"Ah, no, un po, mi dispiace. Americano."

"The man Aldo - you know him well?"

"I don't, no. He's my uncle, but we haven't spent much time together," Tony replied. Giuseppi began winding his way through Palermo at breakneck speed, prompting Angela to grip Tony's arm tightly to brace herself. Tony took her hand and looked at her wide-eyed, gripping the door with the other hand.

"My, ah, how you say - my brother. He works for the vineyard. Not a good man."

"What do you mean, not a good man? Aldo?"

"Si, Aldo. He pays niente. Not a good man to work for. The whole town spits behind him when he passes by."

"Oh, gee, I didn't know that."

"Gosh, Tony, he's a little stern, but I didn't imagine he would be a Scrooge."

Tony thought about his cousin Anna's disastrous arranged marriage. "I can kinda see it, I guess. He's old country. But that's not right; we Micellis do not treat people like that. Maybe I can talk to him." They settled onto a country road and Angela relaxed into the seat a bit, relaxing her white-knuckled grip on Tony's hand. Death defying experiences weren't all bad, she thought. In fact, they could be a bit cozy. The cab driver peered at them through his rearview. "She is your wife?"

They looked at each other and he said, "Ah, no. No. Actually she's my boss. I work for her."

"You work – for her? A woman?" His tone was incredulous, and quite insulting, Angela thought.

"Well yeah, a woman. She's a brilliant advertising executive."

"But she comes with you all the way to Italy? From America?"

"Ah, yeah, well, she's my friend too."

"Ah, your girlfriend."

"Ah, no. Just my friend. My close friend."

"You are - how you say - batting for the other team?"

"Ah, no. No. Fully batting on this team." Tony felt his face flushing crimson.

Angela smiled sympathetically at him as she began to apply her lipstick in the mirror of her lipstick case, not wanting to further confuse the nosy driver by chiming in with a ringing endorsement of his batting skills on her team.

"Probably best not to tell him we also live together," she teased in a whisper.

"Maybe I do not understand. You are a handsome man, and she is a most beautiful woman. And you are just friends and she is traveling with you?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up. You understand it perfectly." Tony said curtly. He couldn't look at Angela; instead he began studying his itinerary, which he had proudly put together himself. What, exactly, were they doing here, together, alone, as friends? Even Mona and Samantha had trouble understanding. Sometimes it felt like he and Angela were the only ones their relationship made sense to. Or– did Angela wonder too?

They turned onto a winding road framed on both sides by endless rows of glistening grapes, with a large, medieval estate perched at the top of a hill.

"Oh, Tony - this place is absolutely breathtaking," Angela breathed. "It's out of a storybook. I can't believe this is where your father came from."

"Well, Aldo has made it what it is. When my father immigrated to America, it was in ruins. My father talked about it being a very dusty, rundown place growing up in the thirties. Just after the war, Aldo and my father intended to rebuild it, but my father married my mom around that time and they decided they'd try their hand at American life. So Aldo rebuilt it on his own. It wasn't until the 60s that he saw some prosperity from it."

"Here we are - Castello di Micelli." He parked and made his way to the trunk, placing their bags on the curb of the expansive entry. "I hope you and your...friend have a wonderful time in Sicily. Try the wine, eat the cannoli, and don't forget to enjoy la dolce vita."

"Thank you, sir." He pulled out his wallet and handed him the lire demanded by the meter.

Angela smiled at him. "Grazie, signore."

"Maybe the wine will give you the courage to kiss this beautiful woman," he added in a whisper. "The wine here - it is like magic."

"Ah, thanks, I'll keep that in mind, Giuseppe," he said.

Angela straightened herself, attempting to salvage a presentable appearance in spite of her rumpled clothing and disheveled plane hair. As she re-tucked her skirt, Rosa threw open the large double doors. "Antony! Angela!" she exclaimed. They walked toward her and she thrust Angela into her generous bosom.

"Bellissima!" Rosa said, admiring Angela. Angela was grateful for her compliments, given how un-"bellissima" she felt. She was desperate to escape to a long, hot soak in a tub. She badly wanted to rest and freshen up a bit before exploring the estate with Tony.

"Thank you, Rosa. This is absolutely gorgeous - I'm so happy to be here. Thank you for inviting me."

Tony gave Rosa a hug. "It's so good to see you, Aunt Rosa. I know Papa would have wanted to be here."

Aldo appeared in the doorway. "We're so happy you came. Rosa has your room all ready for you."

"Oh, thank you, Aldo. We're looking forward to seeing everything, just as soon as we get freshened up," Angela said.

"Of course. There will be plenty of time for that. This is Alessandro. He will show you to your room. Please, you take your time to rest. There is a large group of famiglia staying here for the wedding. We will all have happy hour this afternoon at 5:00. Until then, the day is yours."

Angela looked at Tony. "The day is ours," she smiled wearily, knowing full well they both wanted to spend the day flat on their backs, in a coma.

Alessandro picked up their bags and gestured for him to follow them. They followed him up a winding stone staircase, dimly lit only by a few tiny arched windows. At the top of the stairs, he gestured to follow them to the end of the stone hallway and used the skeleton key to open a heavy wooden door. After he placed the bags inside, he presented Tony with the key. "Tua camera, signore." Angela and Tony exchanged wide-eyed glances of realization.

"Ah, grazie, grazie...and the uh, camera della signora?"

Alessandro looked at them quizzically. "Qui."

"Ah...si. Si. Grazie, Alessandro." He ushered a weary, still wide-eyed Angela into the room and waved him off, saying he understood.

"Prego. Ciao." He turned and walked down the corridor. Tony shut the heavy door and looked at Angela.

"Well!" she said, looking around at the room clad in worn red and yellow damask silks, with a large sitting area and a heavy, ornately carved four-poster canopy bed, the white coverlet covered in rose petals. "This is a lovely – and humongous – room," she said, blatantly ignoring the petals.

"Ah, yeah, yeah it is, Angela, but I tell you, this is a huge house too, I'm sure there's another room for me. I hope you know I did not tell Rosa to put us together. Or do this thing with the rose petals. She's either matchmaking, or assuming something, but either way I'll go down right now and set her straight."

"Oh, Tony, of course I know that. Don't worry about it right now...we'll straighten it out. For now, I'm so beat. I know we are supposed to get on the Italian clock, so a long nap is probably forbidden, but I at least have to lie down and rest my eyes or I'm going to fall over tonight."

He cleared his throat. "Me too. I hardly slept a wink last night."

"Well let's lie down then. It's a huge bed. We slept next to each other last night on the plane, and not for the first time, I might add. It's fine. We're friends. And adults. We live in the same house. Let's just get a little rest."

He swallowed, annoyed they were already facing what he knew would be the first of many awkward moments on this trip. "Okay. And hey, at least we have our own bathroom. I was reading a lot of these old castles have the bathrooms down the hall." He poked his head into the bathroom. "Whoa...Ange, you're gonna love this." He crossed the room and took her by the shoulders, ushering her gently into the bathroom. Angela gasped as she entered the arched doorway, revealing a dimly lit bathroom scattered with tealights and outfitted with a giant copper tub, already filled with bubbles. There were rose petals floating on top.

"Oh my gosh - that's the biggest tub I've ever seen!"

He blurted, "You could fit two people in that thing." Her eyebrows shot up, and he stammered, "I mean...gosh, you know what I meant. I haven't slept at all. I'm not thinking before I speak."

She blushed. "I know." But, she admitted to herself, she wouldn't mind sharing the tub.

"Well hey, you want to take it for a whirl before you lie down? It's already filled!" He added, "I mean, alone. While I lie down. In the other room."

She reassured him with a warm, sleepy smile. "Honestly, Tony, that sounds heavenly."

"Good. I'm going to stretch out on the bed. Take your time. I'll also call home and let them know we've arrived safely."

Angela walked over to their luggage. She pulled her toiletry case from her suitcase and said over her shoulder as she walked back to the bathroom, "Probably best not to tell Mother about our uh, sleeping arrangement."

"Are you kiddin'? Of course not. We'd never hear the end of it."

She leaned against the doorframe and met his gaze softly. "I'm glad we're here."

"Me too, Ange. It's kinda nice, just the two of us."

She nodded. "It is."

She held his gaze thoughtfully a moment before she broke the spell, waving awkwardly to him as she shut the door.