On his way to the room, Tony was stopped by Aldo in the great room by the patio. Aldo was carrying two small glasses of dessert wine.
"Tony, please you join me here for a Moscato di Panelleria. A - how you say - a nightcap." He winked, and gestured at the wingback chair for Tony to sit.
"Ah, sure Aldo." He took the offered glass and sat down.
"It is our finest Moscato, the best in Sicily. I would like to ah, give you a tour of the vineyard tomorrow."
Tony nodded, "Sounds great, Aldo. I want to see everything."
"We will tour first thing. Just us - no Angela."
"No Angela? Why not?" Tony was perplexed. He was hoping to spend the morning touring the vineyard with her.
"No Angela. I have my reasons." Aldo took a sip of the moscato. "I would like to talk some business with you. No women."
"Oh, well if it's business you want to talk, all the more reason for Angela to be there. I don't know much, but she's a brilliant businesswoman, Aldo."
"No Angela. I have my reasons. And you know more than you think. Rosa would like to give Angela a tour of her gardens. Then you can go into Palermo for lunch."
Tony peered over Aldo's shoulder at the table under the pergola. Angela was laughing at something Matteo was saying, covering her mouth and conspiratorially leaning into him, as if he had said something wildly funny but inappropriate. She picked up her pen and regained composure. Tony watched as Matteo leaned over her shoulder while she sketched, as Tony had done with her a hundred times at home when she was bouncing campaign ideas off of him.
Aldo's eyes followed Tony's. "Matteo is very taken with Angela," he said pointedly.
"You think?"
Aldo nodded. "And she seems also to be...receiving his attention."
Tony's mind felt fuzzy. Aldo was right. In spite of her vehement denials earlier in the evening, they now looked like a cozy pair under the pergola.
"You are innamorato, Tony," Aldo observed.
"Innamorato?"
"In love."
"Right." Tony said absentmindedly, watching the two talk as Matteo watched Angela at work. "Ah, no, not exactly, Aldo. But I understand why you would think that." Matteo said something and pointed to the page, and Angela chuckled demurely as she drew. He pointed to something in the stack of papers he'd brought and Angela picked them up, putting on her glasses to read the finer text. She looked up at him and said something, then smiled as their eyes met. She picked up the pen again and began to write. Their mannerism seemed innocent enough, but there was an undeniable spark there, and Tony knew the spark well. His chest tightened and he felt his skin growing hot. What was she doing with this guy?
"Tony, did your father ever talk about his time in the war?"
Aldo had his attention. "Not much. He hated Mussolini, I know."
Aldo nodded confirmation. "Si, very much. Your father was a resistance fighter in the war. Did you know?"
"No, I didn't know that."
"He was very traumatized I think. Always such a sensitive man. Before the war, he was set to marry your mother in an arranged marriage. It had been set since they were 15."
Tony's eyes grew wide. Samantha's age. "Papa told me she didn't want to marry him at first."
"This is true. She thought he was too charming, arrogant. And then the war came. Your grandfather - your mother's father, Tommasso, he was very devoted to Mussolini."
"Really?"
"Of course, your father couldn't say he was against Mussolini, or bam bam. They shoot you dead in the streets. But your father was part of the resistance network that sabotaged the boats and German military trucks as they came into Sicily. Very dangerous work. And he helped to liberate Sicily –"
"Operation Husky?"
"Si. The Allied Invasion."
"Wow, Aldo...I had no idea. He wasn't decorated or anything."
"Most resistance fighters weren't. There were millions all over Europe - ordinary people, farmers, factory workers. At some point, your mother came around on your father. Maybe she saw it as a rebellion. She may have been part of the resistance herself. I cannot say for sure. But by then, Tommasso had his suspicions on your father and wanted to call it off. He did not want your mother marrying him."
"Gee, I didn't know any of this."
"Yes, they would meet in secret, at our friend Antonio's apartment. Her father had threatened to have him arrested for treason if he came near her. Back then you could accuse anyone of being a spy for the Allies and have them arrested."
"An...Antonio?"
"Si. But your mother was deeply in love. And he had always loved her. So, they, how you say, they ran away."
"They eloped?"
"Si, si. Eloped."
"And that is why your father moved to America. He met all these Americans in the liberation - all so young and strong, full of life. Not weary like us Italians were by then. We had been living under Mussolini. The war nearly destroyed our country. Everyone was hungry, and tired, and suspicious of each other. The Americans were like a breath of fresh air."
"Gee, I don't know why I got the abridged version. That is a beautiful story, Aldo. So romantic."
"Si, that was your father. Passionate and a little foolish. Always letting his feelings carry him away. But very devoted to the ones he loved."
Tony smiled, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "He loved her a lot."
"Si. He was brokenhearted when your mother died."
Tony nodded. "He called her luce della mia vita."
Aldo sipped his moscato. "The light of his life. I always have a bit of jealousy of your father, finding that. I never did. But, see I became successful in other ways. I rebuilt this vineyard while he became a garbageman."
"Hey oh, Aldo, he worked very hard. He was proud of his job."
"Yes, yes I know." Aldo looked thoughtfully at Tony. "He was also very proud of you. His big baseball player son."
Tony smirked. "If only he could see me now. The best housekeeper in all of Fairfield."
"But you take pride in your work. You work hard. And you are going to college. He would be proud of that."
"Thank you, Aldo."
Aldo nodded and his eyes narrowed as he continued. "There is just one thing he would not be happy to see."
"What's that?"
"You have much more than he had, except one thing."
"What's that."
"True love."
"Well – she died, Aldo."
"I'm not talking about Marie, rest her soul. You have a job you take pride in. You take care of your famiglia. And," his eyes narrowed at him, "you have a woman who is madly in love with you. You are madly in love with her. But right now, she is out under the wisteria being seduced by some other man. "
"That's complicated, Aldo. And we are not madly in love. And she is not being seduced." Tony was exasperated, and weary from defending their relationship all evening.
"If that is true, why have your eyes not left her all night?"
"I'm just...protective of her, that's all." Tony's hands began sweating. He picked up his moscato and took a sip as he cast his gaze back to Angela, just in time to see Matteo lean in slowly, as if he were about to kiss her. She remained frozen, as if in a trance, neither rejecting nor fully reciprocating his advance. Unable to divert his eyes, he attempted to set his glass down on the side table, but he missed, and it shattered with a crash on the hard tile floor.
Angela pulled away like she'd heard a gunshot. Her eyes whipped to Tony's, for the first time noticing him watching her from the Great Room, her gaze fiery, but twinged with...panic? guilt? Tony could always read Angela, but tonight she was a mystery all the way around.
Tony stood and turned to Aldo. "I'm so sorry, Aldo. Maybe one too many glasses of wine for me. I'll go get this cleaned up. A little got on the chair but if you have some club soda I can –"
Aldo waved his hand. "Nonsense, we have people to do that." He snapped his fingers and a scrawny boy no older than 19 scurried over, picking up the larger pieces of glass. Tony couldn't stand it, he had to help him.
"Tony, you don't help them. This is their job."
The boy left and quickly returned with a rag and some club soda. Tony guiltily let him clean up.
Angela had excused herself and was briskly striding over to Tony. "Tony, I'd like a word." She dragged him by the arm over to the corner of the room.
"What are you, spying on me? Very mature, Tony."
"No, if you must know Aldo asked me to have a glass of Moscato. He wanted to talk to me."
"Oh, I see. How convenient."
"But I didn't appreciate seeing what I just saw. That didn't look very professional to me, Angela."
Then she said something that Tony never expected her to say: "Well, maybe you'll get your wish tonight after all, Tony. Matteo is very charming and you were right, he does appear to be taken with me. He might be amenable to sharing a room since you were so horrified by the idea."
He swallowed, stunned. "What? I...Angela..." Her eyes were glassy. She looked at him, her expression softening as she saw the confusion and...was it sadness? in his eyes. She usually could read him like a book, but right now, there were so many emotions flashing between them she wasn't sure what he was feeling. "Angela, I don't know what this is about, but I am begging you to finish whatever business you're doing out there and come back to the room tonight. We need to talk."
Their eyes locked wordlessly; her heart quickened as she found her best friend again in the depths of his gaze, the one with whom she could communicate everything in a single, electric look.
"Okay, Tony. But I do have some unfinished business. You go on up. I'll be up in a minute." She squeezed his arm and cast him one last stern look that implored him to trust her. He nodded as she walked back to the table.
"Ah, Aldo, I'm going to head up."
"There's a bottle of that in your room, on the armoire. Two glasses too. I see you tomorrow at 9, for a tour of the vineyard."
"Thank you, Aldo. I'll see you in the morning." Tony's steps echoed down the hollow stone corridor, as he wondered what he was going to say to Angela. He knew the air needed clearing, but of what, he wasn't quite sure.
