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“Long sleeves are the best choice,” Jolanda Lo Duca said, mother to Adriano and widow to Valentino Lo Duca. If she knew about his affair with my mother, she didn’t let on.
“Isabella has such pretty arms, why hide them?” Lucrezia Veneziani replied, voice sweet but words hard. There was a raspy note to her voice that made it sound like she had been crying.
More comments were made from either side. How long should the train be? It should be conservative, but not too conservative. What kind of lace? Skirt? Bodice? Neckline? I was already sick of hearing about wedding dresses, and we hadn’t even gone into the shop yet.
A car pulled over and I happily stepped forward, disrupting the conversation. Few moments later, a tall man stepped out, eyes beady. He sca
“Hi Isabella.” She gave me a limp wave.
“Marzia, thank you for coming.”
She scrunched up her nose and looked to her bodyguard. He was carrying a mint green backpack in one hand. “This is Daniele.” He inclined his head politely but said nothing.
“Let’s go in.” I ushered her forward.
The other women greeted Marzia with hellos and coos, complimenting her coat and shoes. She shrunk with embarrassment, cheeks pink as she muttered thank you.
The shop assistant was on us the second we stepped in.
“Who’s the lucky bride?” she cooed. All the women pointed to me; I felt like a puritan being accused of witchcraft. “So gorgeous! You must be so excited!”
“Ecstatic.”
“We’ve already pulled lots of choices for you to try on,” she gushed. “How about we get you ladies settled so we can start trying on dresses?”
Everyone readily agreed and we were led to a separate room with floor-length mirrors and cream couches. Champagne was served (apple juice for Marzia) and I was pulled into one of the backrooms.
If the shop assistants noticed the bodyguards, they said nothing. I had a new bodyguard named Gustavo Moretti, a Vigliano soldato who Giova
Giova He had swarmed my thoughts with a vengeance. After he destroyed my artwork and I tossed the rose bouquet over the balcony, he hadn’t contacted me. I could almost imagine his reaction, the cold way he would say, Childish behaviour, Isabella. Very childish. I made myself mad just by thinking about it. And here I was, becoming a bride for him. When the Lombardis took back New York, I would ask my father if Giova Imagining Giova “Your features are so severe, Isabella,” Angelica Di Donato was saying. She was my godmother, which led her to believing she was allowed to say whatever she wanted to me. “She’s got her father’s features.” I was in my tenth dress, a mermaid-shaped lace gown that itched my shoulders and chest. Lucrezia had chosen this one, claiming it to be more modern than the traditional dresses the Lombardi women had chosen for me. “My features are fine, Angelica, and you can barely see them with a veil,” I snapped. Once upon a time, I would’ve been reprimanded for my tone. But I was about to become their Do Angelica sniffed. “Well, well, if you’re so sure. Maybe some flowers? That would soften…” “Flowers and a veil? It’ll be too much.” Jolanda scrutinized me. “Maybe we should lighten her hair for the day?” “My hair is fine.” The shop assistant tried to speak up. “But what about the dress–?” “She should have her hair down,” Lucrezia argued. “Her hair will be up, as is custom,” shot back Angelica. “I don’t know how you do marriages in Maine–” “Probably a very similar way to how you do them here,” the younger girl retorted. “She’s not an old woman. Why are you trying to dress her like one?” More arguments arose. I picked up my skirt and went back into the changing room, letting the assistant help me out the dress. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom really quick.” She sent me a sympathetic look. “It’s down the hall.” I didn’t go to the bathroom. I tucked myself in a quiet hallway, legs stretched out in front of me and glass of champagne in hand. This is for your family, I told myself. This is for your future. If you can’t handle dress shopping, how are you going to spy on Giova I pressed my hand into my eyes, sighing deeply, before taking a gulp of bubbly. It fizzled down my throat, offering little relief. “Auntie Lucrezia sent me to look for you.” I snapped my head to the side. Marzia stood at the end of the hallway, watching me curiously. “I’m hiding,” I told her. “Tell her I’m in the bathroom.” Should I tell her to lie for me? Telling a child to lie probably wasn’t something you should do. Marzia looked over her shoulder and cringed when she heard the raised voices. “Can I hide too?” I patted the carpet next to me and she joined me, tucking her legs awkwardly beneath her. “Can I have a sip of champagne?” “No, you may not.” Marzia huffed, leaning against the wall. “Happy birthday for last week, by the way. Did you get spoilt?” “I did.” I nodded. “Good.” We sat in silence, listening to the voices of the women. I even heard the assistant trying to calm them but to no avail. “Daddy says you’re going to eat di Sleep in his bed? The thought sent a shudder down my spine. “That’s true.” “Do you like dogs?” “I love dogs.” She nodded and repeated in the same exact tone I had used, “Good.” I sent her a smile and tipped my glass in her direction. Lucrezia found us ten minutes later, shaking her head when she spotted us on the floor. “We’ve been looking for you two. Come on, quickly. There are some flower girl dresses for you to try on, Marzia.” Marzia groaned but got to her feet and slumped towards the changing rooms. I went to follow her, but Lucrezia stepped in front of me. “Look, this is none of my business but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t warn you.” I narrowed my eyes. “Warn me?” Lucrezia’s blue eyes looked like they were about to fill with tears. “Keep your heart to yourself, Isabella. He will destroy it.” My entire body stiffened, and I stepped away from her. “Thank you for your warning,” I said, voice tight. “But I don’t need to be told the obvious.” It took a few hours but eventually we found the perfect dress. I had fallen in love with it at first glance and the women had shed a few tears when I had exited the fitting rooms. A few of the women lamented over how sad it was my mother was missing out on this, but I wasn’t so sure she was missing out. Across the road, a café could be seen. Little tables were protected from the rain by large umbrellas. Beneath one of the umbrellas, a woman sat, very still, dressed all in black with a large hat hiding her face. I had grown up watching Maria, I could spot her from a mile away.