Free 1 - Interrupted Aria by Beverle Graves Myers Page B

handkerchief. “The most precious present you could wish for is your brother’s safe return. Sea journeys can be quite perilous,” he replied sanctimoniously.
    Grisella’s smile vanished and she poked glumly at the remnants of her polenta as Annetta cleared her throat. “What are the troubles in Smyrna?” my older sister asked. “Alessandro has traded there successfully many times in the past.”
    “He says he dares not write about them, but promises to tell us more when he arrives. I’ll leave the letter here for you all to read.” Father pushed back from the table, looking exasperated, as if we had failed to give Alessandro’s letter the enthusiastic response he thought it deserved. He fired a parting shot on his way out. “Anna-Maria, you must get Alessandro’s room ready for him. The current arrangements are not…suitable.”
    These last words had been aimed at Felice, who had slept in Alessandro’s bed last night. My friend had been silent but attentive as I had described my first day at the opera company. Now he ran a hand through his black hair and said, “I never intended to be such a nuisance. Have you got somewhere else you can put me, just for a while?”
    Annetta thought for a moment. “There’s an old cot in the storage closet under the roof. We could put it in Tito’s room. If that’s all right with you,” she directed at me. As I nodded, she sprang up to clear the table and said, “I’ll send Lupo up there tomorrow and we’ll get it down for you.”
    Felice stacked his dishes and slid them toward my ever busy sister. “Don’t let me be any more trouble to anyone,” he said. “Tell me where the cot is and I’ll set it up in Tito’s room.”
    “There’s no need to do that now.” Annetta gave him a quick smile. “Alessandro’s ship won’t arrive for days.”
    “Please, Annetta, let me do this one thing.” He leaned over the table and touched her wrist to give special emphasis to his words. “I feel so useless here, let me fetch the cot.”
    “All right, Felice,” my sister answered in a soft voice. “Grisella, take a candle to light the way and show him where the closet is. There’s a trunk with extra blankets in there, too.”
    Grisella rolled her eyes and treated us to an irritated sigh of theatrical proportion. “But I want to talk to Tito about the opera.”
    Her words gave me a guilty pang. Upon coming home, I had resolved to reacquaint myself with my younger sister but so far I had barely talked with her.
    Felice came around to stand behind Grisella and put his hands on her shoulders. With his lips to her ear and his eyes on me, he said in a stage whisper, “I want to hear more about the opera, too. Light my way upstairs and when we come down, I’ll make Tito tell us everything he did today. I’ll wrestle him to the floor and sit on him if I have to.”
    Felice’s promise raised a giggle from Grisella. While Berta trundled in to finish clearing the table, the girl happily led Felice in search of the bedding.
    ***
    Annetta had created a snug retreat in her room on the second floor. The focal point was the narrow bed in the corner hung with lavish festoons of fawn-colored velvet and bolstered with pillows of faded tapestry and damask. I gratefully threw myself into a threadbare armchair that had been covered with a throw of the same velvet. Although the rest of the house was chilly, warmth pervaded this room. I soon saw the reason, a scaldino . Venetian women of all ranks are addicted to the scaldino during the winter months. Since our climate is mild eight months of the year, most houses are built without fireplaces and have only one or two stoves. Extra warmth is provided by a glazed ceramic pot filled with glowing charcoal that can be moved from room to room with an attached handle. Annetta’s scaldino had been warming her room all during supper. I toasted my feet beside it while my sister sat at her dressing table and began to remove the pins from her hair.