Page 68 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘Exactly what she said,’ he replied as he followed her into the den. ‘But it certainly feels warm in here now I’ve been outside. It’s a beautiful day,’ he insisted, waving at the panoramic windows that showed— He grimaced. Clouds had rolled in again and a flurry of snowflakes gusted against the glass as he watched.
Alessandra sighed and threw herself into an armchair with all of the disappointment of a postponed wedding and he looked up to find eight concerned gazes meeting his. Joe looked especially helpless, especially since Mattia had switched to Italian without thinking and Joe wouldn’t have understood.
‘Tonight was supposed to be my wedding reception. Joe was going to feed me pomegranate and I would give him lentils and I was going to kiss him at midnight – my husband. I had red underwear to go under my dress,’ she lamented, listing New Year’s traditions that he had to admit seemed fitting for a wedding celebration.
‘You could throw Joe out of the window instead, now,’ Mattia couldn’t resist teasing, referencing the one Italian tradition that didn’t fit.
‘I could throw you. It’s supposed to be old things we throw out of the window at midnight, old friend.’
His first thought was that Kira would save him, which put a crooked smile on his face.
‘What are you smiling for? It’s going to be at least a year before I can laugh about this.’
He squeezed her arm, glad she realised that one day, she might be able to. ‘Have you talked to Joe since…?’
‘Since he got drunk? No, he fell asleep and then I thought it was the night before my wedding, so I made him sleep in a different room. He didn’t protest,’ she said bitterly.
Mattia glanced up to find the groom watching them with increasing concern. ‘I think you’d better, Ale. Do you want that midnight kiss or not?’
‘But it might be the day before my?—’
‘Alessandra,’ he stopped her firmly. ‘There might not be a wedding unless you talk this through. All your preparations might have been for nothing.’
Her lips wobbled. ‘I think that’s what I’m afraid of: that I’ve already pushed him too far. He’s just too polite to say it.’
Mattia snorted. ‘I’m sure he’s not that polite, even if he is British.’
He stood, shooting Joe a meaningful glance and looking around for an excuse to leave and something helpful to occupy him while the wedding party navigated this crisis. Alessandra’s mother provided it unexpectedly, standing as well and grasping his arm as he brushed past.
‘It is still New Year’s Eve, you know,’ she said. ‘We might be stuck halfway up a mountain and there will be no wedding, but there are still traditions to be observed.’
He paused, his mind racing. ‘You’re right, Zia Francesca. Would you care to join me in the kitchen?’
By the late afternoon, each bedroom had wood stacked by the stove, both Kira’s phone and battery pack were fully charged in case of an emergency and she’d cleared the snow from around the front and back doors.
The solar panels had run the boiler for five hours, but only with all other appliances switched off. While the guests had grumbled about not being able to charge their own phones, when they realised the choice was between heating and entertainment, heating won out easily.
Despite the claustrophobic setting, stuck up here with the wedding party, Kira still considered herself lucky. If she’d been the one down in the valley explaining to the other guests that the wedding had been postponed, she might have wanted to shoot herself – to say nothing of the mother-lode of mistletoe slowly wilting in Ginny’s hire car.
But she’d been avoiding the rest of the party and was worried about the inevitable mood swing as the evening grew cold. Happy New Year indeed.
She trudged through to the kitchen, hoping there were tins of beans or something similar to feed the many mouths. Poor Alessandra with her fine taste and rich parents would have to make do, since they’d been stuck with Kira and not a gourmet chef, but when she swung open the door, she was surprised to see Francesca Martinelli herself at the stove, Yolanda busy chopping at the kitchen bench.
‘What’s—’ She inhaled on a deep breath through her nose. ‘That smells amazing.’
Signora Martinelli nodded austerely, wiping her hands on the apron embroidered with edelweiss that she’d apparently adopted. Reaching up to a high shelf, she poured a drink into a small, tulip-shaped glass and held it out to Kira.
‘Go. Sit. Drink.’ She continued with something further in Italian.
‘She says you need it.’ Kira turned to find Mattia entering the room behind her, a smile lighting his face.
Throwing up her hands, Signora Martinelli puttered back to the cupboard and poured another, handing it to Mattia.
‘You need it too?’ Kira guessed as Alessandra’s mother shooed them out of the kitchen.
Following him into the dining room, Kira slowed in shock to see the table set with festive finery. The runner was embroidered with pine trees and little crochet flakes of snow. The plates were painted with stars or deer, edged in red. Gold coins – euro ten and twenty-cent pieces – were scattered through the middle, along with several pink pigs.
Rav hopped hurriedly down from a chair as Kira caught sight of him, along with Alessandra’s father, where they were standing by the door into the den. Looking warily up, Kira noted the bunch of mistletoe that they must have moved from the main entrance.
