He usually stayed at the Cipriani, across the lagoon, and one had to get there by boat, but this time he was staying at the Gritti Palace, in all its newly renovated fifteenth-century splendor. It was exquisite and had so much history. It would be more convenient to get to the party by gondola instead of speedboat, and more elegant. He was looking forward to it, even if the party would undoubtedly be full of old, wealthy Texans, many of whom were coming for the event, and others who already rented palazzos there. He was sure it would be an all-American crowd, as Max said, but they would be pleasant and charming, and it was a duty he felt obliged to perform for his customers and old friends. Max didn’t have either the sense of duty or tradition, or even good manners, that his father had.
Olivier was just leaving his office that night to go home when he got a text from Max. “Okay, I’ll come, but not to the party. See you in Venice Friday night.” Olivier was surprised, but he had no illusions about it. If it weren’t for the casino he liked in Venice, Max wouldn’t be bothering to come. Olivier texted back the name of the hotel and left a message for his secretary to get Max a standard room at the Gritti Palace, and not a suite. He was staying in one of the best newly renovated suites himself and could hardly wait. It would be his reward for spending a hot day at the factory in Florence and going to a party which might prove to be dull. But a night at the Gritti and a visit to the original Saverio store would be ample reward.
Chapter 3
As she tried to do every morning, Cosima stopped at the door to Allegra’s apartment on the way to her office. Unless she had an early conference call from abroad or a meeting, Cosima had a cup of coffee with her sister on her way to work every day.
Allegra was still in her nightgown, as she usually was at that hour, when she opened the door to Cosima and greeted her with a broad smile. There was a young woman who helped her get ready for work every day, tidied her apartment, and left a meal for her for dinner at night, unless Allegra was going out with friends. The woman didn’t arrive until a little later, so the sisters enjoyed their morning visit alone. Allegra had coffee ready for her sister and poured it into a cup as Cosima sat down at the kitchen table. It always touched her how cheerful and upbeat Allegra was. She had been that way since she was a child, even after the accident.
Allegra had scars on her arms and her back from the burns she’d had, but she usually wore long sleeves to cover them, and her lovely face had been untouched. She had the face one saw in Italian Renaissance paintings of cherubs and madonnas. There was a look of peace and joy to her. Allegra always saw the bright side of things, and never complained about her fate, being in a wheelchair since she was fourteen. Fifteen years later, she could hardly remember being any different, although she had walking dreams once in a while, but not very often anymore.
“What are you working on right now?” Cosima asked her. Allegra was always sketching, and had unlimited design ideas, many of which she put away in a folder, knowing that they were too avant-garde for her sister to include them in their line. She was saving them in case she had a chance to use them one day. Her tamer designs, usually based on historic bags they had produced previously, Cosima was delighted to include in what they offered in the store, and she loved that they both worked in the family business.
“I just did a series of six clutch bags for next spring. They’re all variations of the same theme, but slightly different from each other. I’d like to do them in pastels, maybe two in alligator, the others in smooth leather.” Allegra had an infallible eye for what colors and textures worked with their basic designs. “I left the folder on my desk in the studio, I can show them to you later,” she promised. “What are you up to?”
The two sisters had been very close ever since the accident that killed their parents, kept Allegra in the hospital for months, and ultimately confined her to a wheelchair. She had had therapy at the time but had adapted well since then to her limitations. She had never been angry or bitter and didn’t have a depressive nature. Cosima worried much more than she did, about the business, their family, and having enough money. Cosima had all the responsibilities and tried to shield both her brother and sister from them, since she was the oldest.
She would have liked more help and support from Luca, but he offered her none, and added to Cosima’s stresses with endless demands of his own, mostly to help him cover his debts.
“Have you heard from Luca this week?” Cosima asked. He was more likely to call his younger sister, who never asked him to be accountable. He viewed their older sister as the police, and strongly resented her questions about his life. He had essentially avoided work for the past fifteen years and hadn’t had a job since he dropped out of school at eighteen. He had just turned thirty-three. He wasn’t in the least embarrassed by not doing anything productive and had no interest in entering the business. He considered his sisters both slaves to their parents, fifteen years after their deaths. He had no appreciation for how well Cosima ran the business that had met his needs all his life.
“I heard from him last week,” Allegra answered her sister’s question about Luca, as they finished their morning coffee. It was strong Italian espresso, the way they both liked it. “He said something about going to Venice.”
“I’m going on Friday. Maybe I’ll run into him. Lucky for him he has time to float around and do whatever he wants while the two of us are working,” Cosima said with pursed lips. Allegra nodded, knowing how much their brother upset Cosima at times. He was shameless about how lazy and self-indulgent he was. He was in the newspapers constantly, at some party, ball, or sailing race somewhere in Italy, always with a beautiful woman on his arm. He acted like the heir to a vast fortune, when in fact at times they were pressed for money because Cosima had to put their profits back into the business to help keep it afloat and growing. They had never had a huge fortune, even when their father was alive, although her parents had lived as if they did, and had spent money irresponsibly. Cosima had discovered it later, when putting things to rights had fallen to her so they didn’t lose their home and the business. Renting the palazzo had been a wise decision, and gave them some additional income, with the huge rent the Johnsons were willing to pay. “I’m going to the Johnson housewarming party on Friday. Do you want to come?” she offered Allegra, who shook her head, looking pensive.
“I think it would make me sad to see other people living at the palazzo, even if we still own it. And the entrance and main floor are so complicated with all the different levels and my chair.” She didn’t look sad about it, just matter of fact, which was her nature. And it was true. There were staircases all over the place, to make for dramatic entrances into the reception rooms. Cosima had had ramps built, and chairs that ran up and down the stairs electrically, to give Allegra easy access when they went there, which wasn’t often anymore. The sisters were busy in Rome. Their parents had used the palazzo more, to entertain.
Sally Johnson had asked permission to remove the ramps and electric chairs for her long-term rental. Cosima had allowed her to remove some of them but not all, provided she replaced them when they left the palazzo at the end of their lease. Allegra couldn’t be there without them, although she much preferred her cozy apartment and studio over the store in Rome. It was easier for her, and she was at home there. Cosima had set up the apartment for her when she was in design school and old enough to live alone. And Cosima was only a floor away if she needed help. Allegra was very independent, and she never called her for assistance. Whatever the problem, she was proud of working it out on her own.