“I have many wine vendors, Alonzo. I doubt my guests will drink me dry.”
“But my wine is free. That must count for something.”
“And it’s lovely,” Gabi chimed in.
Alonzo owned a winery in Italy, and was in the process of obtaining property in Napa Valley to extend his production. According to Val’s research on the man, he’d been in the wine business just shy of five years. The wine was working for the man, but it wasn’t making him rich. No, his family had made him a wealthy man before grapes became part of his life. The Picano portfolio was packed with investments in shipping, property in major ports, and a handful of banks in South America. Diversifying to wine made sense.
“You’re biased, my love.”
“No other wine shall pass my lips.”
The lovebirds were making Val roll his eyes. And he never rolled his eyes.
The wind blew off the sea and pushed Alonzo’s yacht against the dock.
“When do you expect your next shipment, Val?” Alonzo asked.
“In the morning. You can tell your captain to tie up overnight.”
Alonzo boarded his ship and disappeared.
“How long is he here this time?” Val asked his sister.
“Only tonight, but he’ll be back at the end of the week for a longer visit.”
Alonzo’s visits were becoming briefer with each one. The man had a business to run, but it seemed he didn’t have a lot of time for his future bride. Perhaps it was time Val asked exactly how Gabi was going to fit into the entrepreneur’s life. Truth was, while he was a little concerned about the man, he liked Alonzo and wanted to make sure his sister was happy in her choice for a husband.
Several of Val’s staff wheeled the crates of wine back toward the villa. One of Alonzo’s men called after them, reminding them which bottles were the champagne and to go slowly. They all disappeared before Alonzo returned.
“Gabi tells me you’re leaving tomorrow.” Val directed them to his cart and pulled away from the docks.
“Can’t be avoided,” Alonzo said. “I need to fly to California to finish the paperwork on the new vineyard.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Gabi said from the backseat.
“My wedding gift to you, m’dear. It needs to be perfect before you walk through the doors.”
“Isn’t that wonderful, Val?”
Almost too much, he mused.
“You’ll never guess who is visiting the island.”
If Alonzo were anyone but Gabi’s fiancé, Val would shush her.
“I can’t imagine.”
“Michael Wolfe.”
“The actor?”
“Is there another?” Gabi asked. “He’s such a nice man.”
Val glanced in the mirror to see his sister smiling. “You could tell that with your brief visit?”
“You can tell a lot about a person in a few minutes,” she defended. “His girlfriend is just as pleasant. I’m not sure why they worried you so much.”
“I’m not worried.”
Gabi shook her head, not buying his denial for a second.
“Val hasn’t been right since they arrived,” she told her fiancé.
Val felt his jaw tighten, knew his nose flared. He forced a deep breath and stretched his neck. “I can’t be too careful, Gabi. You know that.”
“How long is he going to be here?” Alonzo asked.
“A week.”
Val’s future brother-in-law managed a smile. “You’ll know his character long before he leaves, I’m sure.”
Yes, but if he, or more to the point, Margaret, couldn’t be trusted, by the time they left it could be too late . . .
“I don’t like him,” Simona Masini spit from her perch overlooking the sea.
“You don’t know him,” Val insisted.
“It’s in the eyes, Valentino. The truth is in the eyes.”
“He loves Gabi.”
His mother huffed out a laugh. “He wants you to believe he loves your sister.”
Val ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The last thing he needed on this day was his mother contradicting everything he said. “The invitations have already been sent. The wedding will take place in just under five months.”
Simona pointed her chin toward the window. “Sometimes you’re so much like your father it scares me.”
Val felt his back teeth grind together.
“Speaking ill of the dead, Mama?”
“Speaking the truth. He seldom saw the truth when something more pleasant filtered his view.”
He had no idea what his mother was saying . . . didn’t want to ask what she meant. His sister met and fell in love with a man. Who was Val to step in and say she was making the wrong decision? He was her brother . . . not her father. He laughed at his own thoughts.
“We’re having dinner in an hour. Gabi invited our new guests to the table.”
Simona sighed, tired with the entire conversation.
“Join us.”
“Very well.”
Val turned to leave the room. His mother’s words stopped him. “What of you, Val? When will you find a woman, settle down? Give me bambinos?”
“Leave that to Gabi.”
“You should marry first. That is the tradition.”
His mother would be the death of him. “We’re not in Italy.”
Simona blew out a long-suffering sigh. “Tradition holds no borders.”