Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer
because I’ve got a nice fire going in the library, and the coffee’s waiting. Also, Father seems a bit under the weather and—”
Lidia rose hurriedly from her seat. “Then I’ll go to him at once. Are you coming, Caroline?”
Left with little other choice, Callie followed her. When she reached the door, Paolo folded her hand firmly in his and bathed her in a smile so intimate that she went hot all over.
Noticing, Lidia slowed down long enough to fix them both in a fond gaze and said softly, “Have I told you how happy I am that the two of you have come together as a couple like this? Knowing you’re forging a future together, and giving my grandchildren the next best thing to the parents they’ve lost, gives me the strength to accept the tragedy that has struck our family.”
“It’s been hard for all of us, especially you, Momma,” Paolo said, pushing open the library door, “but things are going to get better from now on.”
“Not if I have to wait much longer for my coffee,” Salvatore boomed, hauling himself out of his chair and coming to meet them. “Lidia, mia bella, I’m glad you’re here. Something I ate at dinner gave me indigestion, but seeing your smiling face makes me feel much better.”
He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but his abiding love for his wife was genuine and unmistakable, and for that Callie had to admire him. She could only hope to inspire a fraction of the same devotion in Paolo.
The library, with its paneled bookshelves, rich wine-red damask draperies and blazing fire was warm and cosy. Insisting he was quite recovered, Salvatore accepted a cup of coffee and fell to discussing business with Paolo. Reassured, Lidia resumed quizzing Callie about the wedding.
Where did she want to be married—in Rome, in a church, or here on the island, with a makeshift chapel and the family priest? Would she invite friends from America? What about after the ceremony—a lunch, or a dinner reception? And a honeymoon—surely she wasn’t going to deny herself and Paolo the chance to be alone together for a few days, when the children had their grandparents and a nanny to look after them?
“I suppose we do need to nail down some details,” Callie said, after Lidia had taken her husband off to bed.
“Starting with an actual wedding date.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, Paolo joined her on the velvet couch in front of the fire. “As you’ve probably gathered, my father tends to steamroll over anyone who disagrees with his idea of how things should be done. The sooner we’re married and in a place of our own, the better.”
“He is rather…opinionated.”
“Very tactfully put, tesoro!” he replied, with a laugh. “What do you say we set the date for two weeks from Saturday? That should allow us enough time to meet all the legal formalities.”
“I hadn’t thought about those. Are they very complicated?”
“Only in that you’re a U.S. citizen. You have your passport with you, of course, but if you also happened to bring your birth certificate—”
“I did. I always carry it with me.”
“Then the only other requirements are for you to make a sworn declaration before the Consular Officer, at the U.S. Embassy in Rome, to the effect that you’re legally free to marry me. You’ll then have to do the same before an Italian official, and for this, you’ll need four witnesses to verify your claim. My parents make two, so it’s a matter of finding two more, which might entail bringing a couple of your friends over from America for a couple of days.”
“Actually not,” she said. “A friend of mine and her husband have rented a villa on the Amalfi coast for the winter. He’s a writer, researching material for his next book.”
“Do you know where they’re staying?”
“No. But I can phone her mother in the morning, and find out.”
“Excellent. If they’ll help us, I’ll arrange for them to be flown to Rome as soon as possible. Once we have those notarized documents, we can then obtain a license in four days, instead of having to wait the usual three weeks.”
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