The Sicilian's Bride by Carol Grace

paused. “You said you wanted to meet the neighbors. Here’s your chance. Are you coming or not?”
    “Well, I…yes, sure. Please thank her for me.”
    She poured more wine into her glass and then his. All of a sudden she’d become the hostess. Just as she had earlier today at the Azienda. He could have sworn a few minutes ago she’d wanted nothing more than to get rid of him. She probably still did, but now she was being polite.
    “You said there was a long story behind your losing the Azienda,” she asked. “What is it?”

CHAPTER FIVE

    I SABEL knew he probably wouldn’t answer her question no matter how many glasses of wine he drank. After a lifetime in Sicily he was probably able to drink wine all night and still keep a cool head. But she thought it was worth a try. Something must have happened. Something important enough that he didn’t want to talk about it.
    He probably thought it was none of her business. Maybe he was right. On the other hand, since she was going to live there on the property, with him as her neighbor, she wanted to know. He lifted his glass and considered the wine as a connoisseur would do. Or was he considering spilling the whole story? She held her breath. She waited. He still said nothing.
    Finally he drained his glass and set it on the table. “It’s not a very interesting story. But since you asked, here it is. Two years ago, I was engaged to a woman. It was, how do you say? A whirlwind time. We traveled from one end of the island to the other. Magdalena was Miss Sicily and she had appearances to make. Festivals to attend. We were wined and dined everywhere, Magdalena was treated like royalty, which she enjoyed and the truth of the matter is I forgot about work. Forgot about making wine. Forgot about checking the vines and following the weather forecast. Which meant I neglected the vineyardsjust when they needed my help most—during a drought and an infestation of fungus which attacked the plants.”
    He stopped suddenly. “I’m talking too much. Making excuses for myself. Trying to explain when there is no explanation and no excuse. The rest of the family were working round the clock trying to save the harvest, but I was gone enjoying myself. I let myself be distracted just when I shouldn’t have. The result was a near disaster. A blight. The workers hadn’t been paid. We had to raise money and quickly. We sold the Azienda to your uncle. All I can say is I regret the whole affair. I regret everything about it. And I assure you it won’t happen again.” He said the words with so much finality, she had no doubt he meant them.
    He stood abruptly and looked down at her. “There you have it. I’ve talked too much and I hope I haven’t bored you. Now I must go. It’s late and you have a big day ahead of you.”
    “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, while a million questions came to mind. What did he mean it won’t happen again? Was he referring to the sale of the land or to getting engaged? What happened to the beauty queen Magdalena? Where was she now? Who broke it off and why?
    She stifled the urge to ask these questions. He’d already said more than he’d intended. Instead she said, “It’s the first day of my new life as a winemaker. And, by the way, if you ever want to swim in my pond, feel free. Because there are no water snakes in Sicily.”
    “Is that right?” he asked. A flash of something that might have been recognition of her knowledge of flora and fauna flickered in his eyes.
    She stood and reached into the pocket of her robe for the book she’d been reading and opened it and read, “‘Sicily’s only poisonous snake, the viper, can be found in the forests and flatland in the south of the island.’ As far as I know this is not the south of the island and the viper can’t swim.”
    “I never said I was a herpetologist. I’m a vintner. I was trying to warn you about possible poisonous reptiles. For your own good,” he said.
    For her own good!