Page 5 of Palazzo
She got to Venice after lunch and smiled when she saw the station. Although Cosima had lived in Rome all her life, it was as though hersoul and body knew this was home too. She took the boat from the Santa Lucia station to the small hotel where she stayed now, enjoying the familiar sights and sounds of her second home. She had time for a quick visit to the store and toured the workrooms there. After she had seen everyone she wanted to, she looked at the displays of newly finished merchandise. She walked to the Piazza San Marco, sat down at a café, and had a cup of coffee on her own, enjoying the magnificence of St. Mark’s Cathedral and the Piazza, just as she did the boats on the Grand Canal when she walked to the Piazzetta San Marco. It was an unbelievably beautiful city, and she loved it. There was a magic and mystery to it that existed nowhere else. Rome had its own special charm, with its history and atmosphere of joyous chaos, but Venice was unique, built on the water, with a Renaissance feeling to it.
She got back to her hotel at six o’clock, in time to return some phone calls from Rome, bathe in the enormous bathtub of her hotel room, and dress for the party. The hotel had arranged for a private boat, and at nine o’clock she was at the Palazzo Saverio and could feel her heart soar as she looked up at it. This was her home, her roots, and her history, and she could imagine her parents waiting for her in the doorway, greeting their guests as they had before the balls and glamorous parties they had given there when she was growing up. She remembered the evenings perfectly, the women in sweeping gowns, her mother in the grandest one of all made for her in Paris, or by couture designers in Rome. Some of the parties had been masked balls, which were even more extraordinary and a favorite in Venice. Cosima had watched the guests from the top of the grand staircase when she was a child. The memory was imprinted forever on herheart. The others had their memories of those nights too. It made Cosima miss her parents acutely, and the loss seem fresh again.
Her breath caught as she walked through the front door and instead of her incredibly elegant parents, she saw Sally Johnson standing there, a very large black taffeta dress covering her sizable figure, with an enormous emerald necklace she had had made by a famous Venetian jeweler, and her tall, portly husband just behind her in white tie and tails. They were way overdressed for the occasion, and the invitation wasn’t black or white tie, but they were nice people, honoring the house as well as their guests, and Cosima was touched when she saw them. It brought tears to her eyes as the image of her parents faded and reality struck her.
There was music coming from the distant ballroom and about a hundred people milling around as waiters served caviar and champagne from silver trays, using the Saverio family crystal, silver, and china, which were all part of the rental. The silver trays bore the coat of arms of the Saverios, the same as the signet ring on Cosima’s left hand. The house was filled with flowers, and Cosima was startled by the new décor, as she descended one of the grand marble staircases to the main living room. The house was built on many levels, which would have made it difficult for Allegra now without most of the ramps.
Cosima glided smoothly down the marble staircase after greeting Bill and Sally warmly at the door. She was startled by the new decorative additions, which consisted of enormous antique crystal chandeliers hanging from every ceiling, in addition to the original ones, tall antique Venetian lanterns, and oversized reproductions of Venetian grotto furniture encrusted with huge pearls and coral. Therewas a turquoise-encrusted sedan chair at the entrance to the ballroom, which was even more over-the-top than Cosima had expected, with hanging crystal drops, oversized candelabra, and Fortuny fabrics in gold and coral tones. Some of it was beautiful, but all together it was too much. But the Johnsons were ecstatic, and proud of what they’d done. And their friends were dazzled. Just being in a palazzo impressed them and would have been enough.
There were original antique mirrors propped up along the walls, multiplying the images of the guests, and the dining room table, which seated forty-eight, looked like Alice in Wonderland goes to Venice. There were statues of Roman heads and busts, encrusted with crystal, turquoise, coral, and pearls, all provided and designed by the Dallas decorator. It took a while to take it all in. Cosima circulated in the crowd and recognized a handful of big Saverio customers, who were friends of Sally’s, and she made a point of talking to each of them.
Cosima was wearing a one-shouldered column dress in the palest ballerina pink, which molded her perfect figure, and high-heeled silver sandals. Her hair was swept up in a simple impeccably smooth French twist, with small diamonds that had been her mother’s in her ears. Her arms were thin and bare, and the only ring she wore was her gold signet ring with the family crest. She looked as elegant as her parents had been, in a more contemporary way. She remembered her mother wearing the same delicate color, which suited her so well with her blond hair, like Cosima’s.
After she had circulated for a while, on several levels, she walked out onto the terrace outside the ballroom, admiring the beauty of Venice, and breathing in the cool night air. She stood at the rail of thebalcony, her thoughts drifting after the excesses of the décor, which was an assault on the eyes and senses. She didn’t notice a man watching her the entire time. Her back was turned, her thoughts were a million miles and twenty years away, to when her parents were still alive, and she was only eighteen. The Johnsons had a Venetian orchestra at the party, and it was easy to pretend for a moment that it was an evening long ago, in a different time.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it, and a beautiful city,” a deep male voice said softly just behind her. She was so exquisite to look at that he couldn’t resist talking to her. She could hear that he was French as soon as he spoke, although he had spoken to her in English. She turned toward the voice and smiled mysteriously, slowly pulled back from the revelries of the past. He was tall and handsome with dark hair, wearing a dark blue suit, a meticulous white shirt, and a navy tie she recognized easily as Hermès.
She answered him in French, which she spoke fluently, and for an instant he thought she was French, then heard the faintest accent in otherwise flawless French, and realized she was Italian. He spoke enough Italian to manage at the factory, but he was fluent in French and English, and so was she.
“The house is amazing,” he added in French, and she smiled. “I’ve never seen anything like it, even in France. It’s a bit like Versailles gone mad.” It was a perfect description of it.
“I was born here,” she said in a soft voice, addressing him smoothly in French, which was easy for her.
“In Venice?” She nodded.
“In this house.” She didn’t comment on the décor, which they bothknew was excessive, but neither of them wanted to be rude to their hostess. She was so excited about her new Venetian home and décor. “It has belonged to my family for six centuries. I spent time here with my parents for holidays as a child, but we moved to Rome when I was very young.” He hadn’t paid attention to the name of the palazzo, so he still had no clue as to who she was.
“It must have been a wonderful way to grow up.” He smiled at her as they stood in the moonlight with the backdrop of Venice all around them, like a stage set or a movie.
“My parents were very glamorous,” she said, smiling. “Life isn’t like that anymore, even here in Italy. People live more simply. My parents died fifteen years ago, and even then they were a throwback to another time. They used to give balls and wonderful parties and dances. My mother used to wear the most beautiful gowns she bought in Paris.” He was mesmerized by Cosima, and he could visualize the scene she described.
“She might have bought them at my family’s couture house,” he said with a shy smile. “Bayard,” he volunteered, and Cosima looked startled.
“Yes, of course, she had several of them in her closets. She was still quite young. They died in an accident.” She was telling him more than she usually disclosed to a stranger, but there was something so open and gentle about him, and being in her own home made her open up about her history.
“I’m sorry to hear it, about your parents.”
“Does the couture house still exist?” She didn’t wear clothes like that, so she didn’t know if it did or not. He shook his head in answer.
“No, it closed. Haute couture is part of another world. It’s history now. What was your mother’s name?” he asked, increasingly curious about her.
“Tizianna Saverio.” His eyes opened wide when she said it.
“Saverio? The leather goods?” He looked like someone had shot him, and she laughed in answer.
“Yes, and the palazzo.” She wondered if he had a wife who bought from them, or if he bought their saddles and hunting clothes. He looked like a gentleman.
“I am your biggest fan. I’ve been in love with everything you do since I discovered you. I visit your store whenever I’m in Venice or Rome. The workmanship is unique and incredible. Half the reason I came to this party was so I could visit the store tomorrow.”
“I was just there today. I try to come to Venice every week or two to keep an eye on the store. My grandfather Ottavio founded the one here, and my father built the one in Rome. He was Alberto. I have lived in Rome for almost all my life, since my childhood. It’s my home. But my roots are here, in Venice.”
He looked surprised again then. “You don’t sell at Johnson and Dean, do you?” He didn’t think so.
“No, we only sell in our own stores, here in Italy. But Sally is one of our best customers, so I wanted to come and see what she did with the décor. She’s renting the palazzo from us. She seems to have had quite a lot of fun with it,” she said with a shy grin. “I’m not sure what my parents would say, or my grandfather, but I quite like it. It’s very lively and cheerful,” and very showy, she didn’t say, a lot like the Johnsons themselves. It was over-the-top, but they were obviouslyenjoying the palazzo so much that one couldn’t hold the excesses against them.
“I would have loved to see the original,” he said, fascinated by her.
“If you come to the store, I can show you some photographs of my parents’ masked Venetian balls. They were quite something.”
