Hepburn's Necklace

Prologue-3

Balancing cones, they strolled along the strada until they reached a fountain, where they stopped to sit. The water cooled the air.

After Ruby had tried every flavor on their cones, Niccolò asked, “Which one is your favorite?”

She wanted to say, you, but instead, she said, “Pistachio. I love it.”

“Better than American ice cream?”

“Different,” she said. “But absolutely delicious.” Her cone began dripping in the heat, and she quickly licked every delectable drip.

Niccolò laughed. “Come here.”

Ruby felt a cold spot on the tip of her nose.

“Mi permetta,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Like a puppy, no?”

Ruby dissolved into gales of laughter, and then, taking her finger, she swiped strawberry gelato across his nose. Making funny faces and crossing his eyes, he tried to reach it with his tongue. Finally, she swiped the gelato off with a napkin, giggling as she did.

The rolling motion of the van ceased, and Ruby shifted in her seat.

“Scusi, Signora,” Matteo said. “We have arrived at the hotel.”

“I guess I dozed a little.” Ruby blinked and sat up.

“Signora, per favore.” Matteo stood by the open door, ready to assist her down the little stone steps to the entry. Bellagio was primarily a walking village—or comune—with narrow lanes that led down the hillside to the lake.

Ruby stepped from the van. She wasn’t ready to return to her room. A cool drink at the terrace bar would be perfect, she thought, straightening her shoulders to make her entrance. She’d grown a head taller than her mother, but Mercy Smith had always insisted that Ruby hold her head high. Even now, her mother’s words rang in her mind. Her mother was named Mercy—Mercy Raines—at birth, because of the torrential downpour that had broken a drought on the day she was born. No matter how dark the day, her mother always looked on the positive side.

Ruby walked through the marbled entryway.

Years ago, paparazzi might have lurked near the entry, but not today. Tossing the long edge of her scarf over her shoulder, she strolled through the hotel to a table outside overlooking the lake. The view was so exquisite that it made her heart ache with memories. Though she’d had her share of romantic partners along the way, none had ever compared to Niccolò.

A waiter appeared by her table, and Ruby ordered a Bellini with prosecco.

“Pane e olio?” The waiter asked.

“Grazie.”

As Ruby sipped the refreshing concoction of sparkling wine and peach puree, she studied the photos that Matteo had taken on her phone. One was of the for-sale sign, while others were of the villa and its gardens. Maybe this wasn’t such a far-fetched thought.

She tore a small piece of fragrant rosemary bread the waiter had brought and dipped it into the olive oil, reveling in the taste. Gazing at images, she wondered how her life might have turned out. She might have lived with Niccolò in that very villa overlooking the lake. Sipping her cocktail, she let the story play out in her mind, imagining their children, boating on the lake, leisurely dinners spent gazing at the Alps. Making love under clear, starry skies or rainy nights.

A story. Only a story. One that was never destined to come to life.

Sighing, Ruby took another drink. If she hadn’t been an actress, she might have become a writer. Still, she was proud of her work and her ability to provide for those she loved and others.

While her parents’ property in the Texas Hill Country wasn’t anywhere near as large as the nearby Hillingdon ranch, Ruby had eventually erected a new house for her parents. She’d also built a new barn, invested in the ranch, and supported her older sister and her husband when they needed it. That was only right, all things considered.

Ruby blinked back tears that lined her lashes at the memories. They were all gone now. She’d done the best she could for her family. In her heart, she’d made the only decision she could at the time, although it hadn’t been easy.

She’d promised her parents she’d never sell the ranch. After their deaths, she hadn’t visited as often as she thought she would, so she converted the ranch into a nonprofit organization for underprivileged kids from the city to have a break and learn outdoor life skills. She’d taken Ariana there when her niece was younger to ride horses, appreciate authentic, melt-off-the-bone barbecue, and sleep under stars that crowded the night sky.

Suddenly, Ruby’s phone chirped a tune, surprising her. She assumed it was Stefano, her Palm Springs houseman, though it was still early in California. He’d be having coffee, or maybe working out at the local gym. She checked the number that appeared on the screen and smiled. Ariana.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“I’m glad you picked up, Aunt Ruby.” Ariana let out a little squeal. “I’m so excited I’ve hardly slept. You’ll never believe it, but Phillip and I are finally getting married.”

Should Ruby try to be happy for her niece? Ariana knew how she felt about Phillip.

“He proposed?” Ruby asked, stalling. Obviously.

“Yes, and we’re getting married right away. At that little church in Studio City you used to go to.”

“It’s quite charming,” Ruby said.

“They had a cancellation. How soon can you return?”

“Tell me your date, and I’ll be there.” The tour could continue to Venice without her.

Ariana did and then hesitated on the line. “And I’d really like for you to give me away.”

“I’d be delighted, but why not ask your mother?”

“I tried,” Ariana spat out, sounding hurt and angry. “Mom went off on her marriage rant again, saying that marriage is an antiquated system. Just because she got divorced doesn’t mean every marriage is destined for that. She refuses to take off work.”

“Wall Street is demanding, darling, especially at your mother’s level,” Ruby said, trying to diffuse the situation. Mari was still bitter over her divorce, but Ruby was dismayed that she refused Ariana’s need for her. “Sweetheart, I’ll be honored to give you away.”

As Ruby hung up the phone, she shook her head. Ariana’s mother had erected a brick wall around her heart after she’d divorced. Ruby’s elder sister Patricia, Mari’s mother, had started exhibiting symptoms of early-onset Alzheimer’s that same year. And Ariana was just a little girl in grammar school. By then, Patricia couldn’t be trusted to look after Ariana. Bitter and determined to start over, Mari took a job in New York.

Unable to break through to Mari, Ruby had committed herself to being there for Ariana. The poor girl had lost her father when he left her mother for another woman. In turn, her mother had slammed the door to her heart. At least Mari allowed Ruby to dote on Ariana.

As if compensating for her failed marriage, Mari Ricci threw herself into her work, earning her way through the ranks to become a successful investment banker on Wall Street. Ruby had to admire her commitment and drive, but success and the long hours required grated on her relationship with her daughter.

At first, Mari’s housekeeper looked after little Ariana. But soon, Mari began to travel extensively for work, so she put her daughter in a boarding school. On Ruby’s request—and offer to pay in full—Mari acquiesced and sent her to a boarding school in California on the relatively quiet outskirts of Los Angeles.

When Ariana tired of returning to New York to see her mother, Ruby organized her schedule around Ariana’s breaks. Her niece had a room at Ruby’s house in Palm Springs, just an hour’s drive from the school.

As for Ariana, perhaps Ruby had overcompensated, but it was what Patricia would have wanted, too. Besides her hyper-focused, business-minded mother, who else did Ariana have? Ruby certainly wasn’t counting Ariana’s boyfriend, that self-centered man-child Phillip, even if they were getting married. Phillip was an overambitious filmmaker whose primary focus was his career—not the relationships in his life. Ruby feared that might include Ariana, too.

Had Ruby been ambitious when she was young? Naturally, she hadn’t had much choice, but she’d always valued her relationships. Even when forced to make the ultimate choice, she had chosen her family over herself.

Despite Phillip’s shortcomings, Patricia would have wanted Mari to go to Ariana’s wedding, too.

Ruby sipped her cool drink. Had it been almost a year since Patricia’s death? She blinked against the emotion welling in her eyes. Her sister was the only one who knew the price Ruby had paid for her success.

Ruby dabbed her eyes with a linen napkin. Although Patricia had lingered for years, her illness had stolen her from them long ago.

Almost a year. Patricia had left one crucial task to her—if she chose to do it. The safety deposit key was still tucked in Ruby’s purse. Although Ruby didn’t know the exact contents of the box, she could guess. This year, the days had slipped by, none of them quite the right one to share the story that had happened so long ago.

Ruby took another sip of her Bellini. She picked up her phone again and found the number in New York she wanted. After tapping it, she waited.

A young woman answered. “Mari Ricci’s office.”

“May I speak with Mari, please?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Ruby Raines.”

Sputtering erupted on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you said…well, never mind. Your name again?”

“You heard correctly,” Ruby said pleasantly. “Mari is my niece.” Who clearly hasn’t briefed her new assistant very well.

“I’m sure she’s available for you, Ms. Raines. She’s not taking calls, but I’ll tell her it’s you.”

“Oh, let’s surprise her. It will be fun.”

“Great idea. Hold, please, Ms. Raines.”

A few moments later, her niece answered, her voice crisp and efficient. “Mari Ricci. Who’s calling?”

“Mari, it’s Ruby. Ariana just gave me the news.”

Mari let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s talk about this later.”

“Later seldom comes,” Ruby said, trying to be conciliatory. “Won’t you please come to her wedding? She’d love for you to give her away.”

“If she’d been more organized and planned farther ahead, I could have,” Mari said. “I won’t reward her for selfish behavior.”

“Mari, it’s her wedding.” Ruby was trying to be patient. Where is Mari’s heart? She tried again. “It won’t be complete without you there. And Ariana will remember this for the rest of her life. You don’t want to regret your decision.”

“There’s a lot I regret,” Mari shot back. “Like her father. This won’t be one of them. Besides, marriages have what, a fifty-percent chance, if that? I like better odds. And no, I don’t feel the emotional need to attend. She’s a grown woman; she’ll be fine. Besides, she has you.”

“Mari, dear, I wish you weren’t still so angry.” Ruby held her breath.

“I’m not angry. I’m realistic. Ariana doesn’t need me there to do anything, and I have prior commitments with clients who do. Now, I have to return to work. You have no concept of what’s going on here.”

“But Mari—” Click. With a sigh, Ruby placed her phone on the table. At least she’d tried. She wouldn’t tell Ariana she’d spoken to her mother. Why wound the poor girl twice?

Ruby took another sip of her chilled cocktail. Dear Ariana. If only she could bring her great-niece here for a break before it was too late.

For all of them.

But maybe there was another way. Villa Fiori loomed in her mind. She raised her hand to the waiter, who hurried to her.

“Would you ask the concierge to join me?” Ruby asked. “I have an urgent request.”