Page 37 of Palazzo
Everything seemed peaceful at the store. The new manager was a little shy, but seemed like a nice woman. The summer merchandise was well displayed in light colors, and Cosima was satisfied anddecided to wander for a while when she left the store. She had three hours before she had to meet Olivier. It was a warm day, and she always loved walking around Venice. It brought back so many memories for her, of her parents, and her youth, their visits there. It was still a magical city for her. And inevitably, she walked past the Palazzo Saverio to see if there were any obvious changes, and wondered if her old guardian’s grandson was still working there.
She didn’t see him at first, and the front door was open. Her mother’s rose garden was in full bloom. She had planted it during their vacations there. The sun was warm on Cosima’s face as she looked around. The grounds were clean and well tended, and then she saw the young guardian appear and waved to him. He smiled when he saw her and came out of the garden shed, carrying some tools. He came to say hello, and she asked him what he was working on.
“The moldings are good now. We’re going to start painting this summer.” She had an urge to peek inside, but didn’t want to appear curious, even though she was, and as she glanced at the front door she saw Olivier appear. He had a tool kit in his hands too, and looked shocked when he saw her. They stared at each other and Cosima didn’t understand what was going on as he walked toward her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him, as the young guardian disappeared into the house. “Do you know the new owner?” It was the only explanation she could think of for his being there, and his face broke into a slow smile.
“Yes, I do,” Olivier said, and offered no further explanation, and she continued to stare at him as he took her by the hand and led her toward the front door.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” He nodded and pushed the door open wider so she could see inside. Everything was clean now, and there was no sign of the fire, or smell of smoke. The floors were smooth and even and laid in the original pattern, with big black-and-white marble squares in the front hall. The tall windows were bare. The burned curtains were gone. She could smell fresh paint, and he gently pushed her inside so she could see the grand staircase, and the ballroom in the distance at the other end of the house. Everything about it was familiar and it still felt like home, except that it was fresh and new and clean. The chandelier that had come crashing down in the fire had been replaced with a similar one.
“Olivier, what are you doing here?” Cosima asked him again, and then slowly she understood and remembered what the realtor’s assistant had said, that a Frenchman had bought it, and Cosima had insisted she was wrong. “Did you…? Are you…?” Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him, and he nodded.
“I thought you might want it back one day. It belongs to you, it’s part of you, it’s your history. And if you don’t want it, I can sell it, probably for a profit.”
“Oh my God…Olivier, you’re crazy. What are you going to do with it?”
“Clean it up slowly. We’ve been working on it since I bought it. And give it back to you one day. That’s why I bought it.”
“You can’t justgiveit back to me,” she said, looking around at all the things he had cleaned up and repaired and replaced, some of which had been damaged and old and broken before the fire.
“Yes, I can,” he said simply. “We’re putting in a new kitchen thissummer.” The old one hadn’t been replaced since the 1940s, because her grandparents had liked it and didn’t want a new one. He took the keys out of his pocket then and handed them to her, as she stared at him. “I love you, Cosima, just as you are. You work too hard, you worry too much, you take care of everyone except yourself. You’re the woman I’ve dreamt of all my life and never found until I met you. It’s an anniversary present,” he said, smiling at her. She had never known anyone like him either, he was the most generous, kind, loving man she had ever met.
“What anniversary?” She looked puzzled as well as shocked.
“I met you a year ago today, at that silly party the Johnsons gave, with their awful décor with all the turquoise and coral and crystals and pearls. No one but a Saverio should live here, and your children one day, and Allegra’s. This is your legacy, from your parents and grandparents, and to your own children. But I’d prefer to leave your brother out of it, if that’s okay with you, so he doesn’t set fire to it again.” He put his arms around her as he said it.
“That’s fine with me,” she whispered, and he kissed her. “I can’t believe you did this. When were you going to tell me?”
“When I got it cleaned up. We’re almost there. We’ve been moving slowly. You can take over and do the decorating.”
“I still have a lot of things in storage that need to be re-covered, but they’re fine. And all the crystal and original china and silver.” Her eyes were full of tears as she clung to him. He was crazy, but the best kind of crazy, and there was no question in her mind that he loved her and she loved him.
“When we get it all put back together, it will be nice for you to stayhere when you come to Venice. It’s not far from Paris or Rome by plane. We could come here on weekends.”
“I want to work on it with you,” she said, looking around, and they walked through the main floor holding hands. She was excited looking at it. It was as though the palazzo had been reborn and had come back to her with the memories and a whole new lease on life, thanks to him. There wasn’t even a minute sign of the fire anywhere. “Did Francesca Viti know you bought it?” she asked, amazed.
“Not at first, but I had to tell her eventually. It got too complicated otherwise. I was afraid she’d tell you.”
“She didn’t. No one did.”
“No one else knew. I figured that was the best way to keep a secret.” He walked her into the ballroom, and spun her around, the way her father had done with her mother. She could almost hear the music, and she could feel them all smiling at her, her parents, their friends, even Gian Battista. Olivier really was her honorable friend, her amazing friend, her beloved friend.
“Did you visit Max today?” she asked him.
“No, he texted me this morning that one of his friends showed up for a visit and he told me not to come. So I decided to lend a hand here instead.”
They spent two hours walking around the palazzo that was hers again, or theirs, and still got to San Marco in time to have a glass of wine to celebrate before they left for the airport and flew back to Rome for the weekend. She was sorry not to stay and work on the house with him, but she had a lot to do.
She called Allegra when she got home and told her all about it, and Allegra was as stunned as she was, and then she whisperedsomething to Basile and giggled, and came back on the phone to talk to her sister.
“We want to get married in Venice,” she said, and startled Cosima all over again.
“You do? When?” And when was she going to plan a wedding in the midst of everything else? Their plans came as a surprise.
“A year from now. Basile asked me last night. I was going to tell you. We thought next June. We have a lot to do until then. And now, can we have the reception at the palazzo?”
“I’ll ask Olivier. It’s his now. That’s fantastic news. Next June. And congratulations to both of you.” She was delighted and couldn’t think of a better match for either of them.
