Page 36 of Mafia Darling

“Hmm? What?”

“Come. I’m taking you to the other end. If you stare at him all day you’ll never harvest any grapes.”

When we found an empty row, Emilia showed me how to hold the cluster of grapes and snip the vine with the shears. Then the grapes had to be placed carefully in the basket. “There,” she said. “It is important not to break or bruise them. Otherwise the fermentation starts.”

“Like this?” I held and snipped a cluster, then gently put them in my basket.

“Very good. Now do it ten thousand more times.” She chuckled and spread her hand out toward the rows of vines.

“This is hard work.”

“Yes, which is why almost the entire village comes to help.” She took the opposite side of our row and began snipping. “I took the rest of the week off from my job.”

“This is a terrible way to spend your vacation.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t see enough of my father anymore and it’s nice to be outside.” She placed more grapes in her basket. “I recently got divorced. I’m sure my father has mentioned it.”

“Yes, he did tell me. I sense he doesn’t approve.”

“An understatement. Divorce is not common around here. Once you are married, they expect it to be for life, no matter how terrible he treats you.”

Something in her voice caused my head to snap up. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not like that. He was a liar and a cheater.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Most of the old guard—the new guard, too, I suppose—think you should stick it out. It’s that Catholic mentality.”

My sisters and I were raised Catholic, but we never really practiced. Once my mother died we stopped going to church altogether. “Were you married a long time?”

“Eight years. I was twenty-three when we married. At the time my father thought I was going to die an old maid.” She sighed. “I should have waited. I was too young to marry, but I fell in love.”

See? This was why you couldn’t trust feelings. They steered you wrong every time.

“That’s why I never want to marry,” I said, bending to put another bunch in my basket. “It’s not worth it.”

“But you and . . .” She let her voice trail off. “I thought you and Signore Ravazzani were together. That you are pregnant with his child.”

“We aren’t together, not any more. And yes, I’m pregnant, but there is no wedding happening.”

“Hmm.”

I cocked my head at her, wiping the sweat from my brow. Didn’t she believe me? “I know it sounds crazy, not to marry the father of my child. But I don’t want to be tied to him for the rest of my life.”

“But you are tied to him for life.” Her olive skin paled in the bright sun. “I apologize. I should keep my mouth shut. None of this is my business.”

“I don’t mind. I have two sisters at home who are always sticking their nose in my business.”

“You sound like you miss them.”

“I do. Very much. I’d hoped to have them come visit but . . .”

“I’m certain Signore Ravazzani would bring them here, if you asked.”

“I would bring who here?”

Spinning, I found Fausto coming toward me, his long legs eating up the dirt between us. I shielded my eyes from the sun and scowled at him. Had he been eavesdropping? “No one.”

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