Lake Como by Anita Hughes Page A

August is for lovers and dreamers. Sophia is holding a feast tonight in your honor.”
    Hallie watched the village of Bellagio appear beyond the curve of the lake. The promenade was lined with olive trees and the villas were surrounded by gardens as large as parks. Hallie saw the Hotel Metropole perched above the dock, and a string of cafés where smartly dressed tourists ate shrimp and paella.
    Hallie turned to Pliny. “I’d be happy with a plate of antipasto and a bowl of fresh berries.”
    “There will be antipasto and prosciutto and every kind of fruit. The cooks have been preparing for days and Sophia sent Lea to the market twice this morning.” Pliny steered the boat into a small cove.
    The chatter of tourists and the put-put of motors were replaced by silence. A fish poked its head above the water and dived back under the surface. Hallie glanced up at the Tesoro villa and saw grand balconies with wrought-iron railings, stone walls covered in ivy, and glimpses of marble through open windows.
    “Sophia has invited Riccardo and all their friends.” Pliny tied the boat up at the private dock. “He wouldn’t dream of refusing the invitation. Sophia is hoping for a reconciliation.”
    “Hallie!” a young woman with raven black hair and large green eyes ran down to the dock. She wore an orange chiffon skirt and a white halter top. She had gold hoop earrings in her ears and leather sandals with colored ribbons on her feet.
    “Portia.” Hallie hugged her sister. Hallie felt sharp bones through the halter top and could see the outline of Portia’s ribcage.
    “Infidelity is wonderful for the diet.” Portia laughed. “I look like a prison camp survivor.”
    “You’re gorgeous,” Hallie replied. Even with the skin pulled tight on her cheeks and the sharp angles of her hips, Portia was strikingly beautiful. Her hair was glossy as paint and her mouth was an invitation to be kissed.
    “Sophia hired a hairdresser and a masseuse.” Portia grimaced. “She wants me to look my best tonight. I’m like a can of meat trying to push back its sell-by date.”
    “In America you’d be a supermodel.” Hallie followed Portia up the winding path to the house.
    “Apparently Riccardo likes more buxom women.” Portia shrugged. “His mistress has the hips of a Venetian courtesan.”
    “Pliny told me that Sophia wants you to take Riccardo back.” Hallie put her hand on Portia’s arm. “You don’t have to settle, you can have any man.”
    Portia was about to speak, but looked up and saw her grandmother appear on the balcony. Sophia was dressed in black silk and her white hair framed her face like a helmet. She stood with her arms on the railing, a diamond-and-ruby bracelet glinting in the sun.
    Hallie saw a flicker in Portia’s green eyes, like a flame trying to ignite. Portia slipped her arm through Hallie’s and skipped toward the house.
    “I feel better already,” Portia whispered as they approached the stairs. “After lunch we’ll go to the garden. I’ll show you my new archery set.”
    “Sounds dangerous.” Hallie giggled. “I wonder who’s the target.”
    *   *   *
    Hallie and Portia climbed the stone steps to the balcony, where Sophia waited to greet them. Sophia was petite like Portia, with a tiny waist and small hands and feet. Her face was lined and blue veins covered her wrists, but her eyes belonged on a Siamese cat. She looked at Hallie closely, as if inspecting a new couture gown.
    “You are a true beauty,” Sophia said finally. “I see little resemblance to your mother.”
    Hallie bit back a reply and smiled graciously. “Francesca says I take after my grandmother.”
    “Constance is a formidable foe but a fine woman.” Sophia nodded. “I haven’t seen her since she and her husband stayed at the villa years ago. Theodore liked to play cards and Constance was fond of a glass of drambuie after dinner.”
    Hallie tried to keep her face expressionless. She knew Constance had visited Lake