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this will be the first time in God knows how many years that we all are together. Maybe it'll lay a few ghosts to rest."
    "You mean Michael?" Sophia could have bitten her tongue.
    "Michael? No, I wasn't thinking of Michael. I know Filippo and his wife feel slighted that they don't play more of a part in the business, but with the wedding, no doubt Teresa will feel happier."
    "I'm sure she will, but it's all been arranged in such a hurry. Is there a reason?"
    "It's what Papa wanted."
    "I see. And Papa always gets what he wants. Sometimes I feel sorry for Teresa."
    "Why's that?"
    "Filippo may be handsome, but he's still a child and behaves like one."
    She caught sight of her husband's face in the wardrobe mirror, saw the flash of anger. He was always this way if she said a word against any member of his precious family. "Where is Don Roberto?" she asked.
    He rolled off the bed. "Mama said he was caught up with some business in town. Should be home by f-f-five." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and frowned. "Something is going on. I've tried to c-contact Papa. He's selling off some of the companies; it doesn't make sense."
    Sophia noted the stammer and watched him. He rarely discussed business with her, but she knew he had been worried lately. "Well, now is your chance to talk to him."
    He nodded and changed the subject. "You think Mama looks okay?"
    "Yes, why? Don't you?"
    Before he could answer, they heard the sound of a car horn. Sophia went to the window.
    "It's Filippo and Teresa. They almost ran into Mama's flowers."
    Constantino said, "I'd b-better go down," but he stood there, his hands still deep in his pockets.
    Sophia went to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Your mama is fine. She's maybe a little nervous. This is a big occasion, and she has a lot to think about."
    He rested his head on the nape of her neck. "You always smell so good, you know that? Sometimes I look at you when you don't know I'm there, and I still can't believe you're mine."
    She ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his face in her hands. "If you like, I'll wait up here for you, and I'll let my hair loose—"
    He drew away as the car horn sounded again, loudly. "No, you'd better dress. Mama will want you downstairs."
    He hurried out, and she heard him calling to his brother. From the bedroom window she watched as her sister-in-law, Teresa Luciano, climbed out of the Rolls-Royce. The driver was already unloading their pieces of ill-matched luggage.
    Teresa called to her husband, but he paid no attention; he was running to greet Graziella. He had film star looks but didn't seem to care how he dressed; he wore a leather jacket and a T-shirt, and his hair was long. Sophia noticed that he wore a pair of high-heeled cowboy boots.
    Filippo had lived in New York for years, hardly ever making the trip home, so it was no wonder his mother was so extravagantly pleased to see him. She was so overjoyed that she ignored Teresa and her granddaughter, the bride-to-be.
    Rosa Luciano was still collecting her things from the back of the Rolls-Royce. The driver held the door open for her as she got out. Sophia was surprised at how attractive the girl had grown; it had been years since she had seen her. Rosa had inherited her father's dark eyes and black, curly hair.
    Teresa was older than Filippo, and to Sophia's eyes she looked more like a spinster schoolteacher than ever, her pinched face, sharp nose, and tight mouth accentuating her bad temper as she tried to organize the luggage and her daughter while waiting to be welcomed by Graziella. It amused Sophia to see how nervous her sister-in-law was as she made an embarrassed gesture toward her crumpled skirt and jacket.
    "Aunt Sophia . . . Aunt Sophia ..." Rosa Luciano rushed into the room. "Can I see my dress? Can I see it?"
    Sophia moved quickly away from the window. "Can you wait until it's pressed? I want you to see it at its best. . . . You know, Rosa, you have grown into a beauty. Let me see you