“Come swimming. Giovanna and I are seeing how many lengths we can do underwater.”
“How many can you do?”
“One and a half.”
“And Giovanna?”
“Two.”
“So, I will do three.” And Floriana marched off to the changing room to slip into her bathing suit.
Dante dived into the pool and swam a couple of lengths of front crawl. When Floriana emerged in a pale blue swimsuit, Dante stopped swimming and trod water to watch her. She had developed curves in the five years that he had been away. Her waist was narrow, her hips wider, thighs fuller, and her breasts were plump and round. She was no longer the child he had said good-bye to, but a girl hovering on the brink of womanhood. He felt the familiar stirring of excitement in his loins and swam over to meet her.
Floriana jumped into the water. When she came up for air, Dante was right beside her, grinning broadly. He wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her wildly, but he restrained himself for they weren’t alone. Instead, he whispered his desire into her ear then pulled her underwater again to steal a kiss where no one could see.
Damiana came down to sunbathe with a couple of friends, and soon the pool was full of young people, splashing in the water, drinking juices on sun loungers, and chatting in the sunshine. Costanza played with Giovanna. They tried to include Floriana, but after proving to everyone that she could hold her breath underwater longer than anyone else, she swam off to be with Dante. This didn’t surprise Costanza; Dante had always been fond of Floriana, and she knew Floriana was in love with him. It didn’t occur to her that Floriana’s feelings were reciprocated.
When they went up for lunch, Violetta was overjoyed to see l’orfanella, as she was now known in the family. She swept her into her arms and kissed her happily.
“I’m so sorry there was a muddle over your invitation, Floriana,” she said, looking genuinely unhappy about it. “I gave it to the countess because I didn’t know where you live. My fault entirely, I should have asked you—or given it to you directly. I’m mortified that you might have thought we didn’t want you.”
“I would have loved to come, but I’m happy I wasn’t forgotten,” Floriana replied truthfully.
Dante put his arm around her shoulder. “She’s here now,” he said, and only his mother detected the unfamiliar tone in his voice.
She watched them sit down together and could almost see the vibrations quivering between them like heat evaporating off a hot road in midsummer.
Beppe presided over the lunch table. He made a great fuss of Costanza. Floriana was down the other end, but he wouldn’t have paid her any attention had she been seated on his right-hand side. Costanza was the daughter of a count and the niece of a prince, and that was all there was to it. Dante and Floriana might as well have been at a table of their own. With their heads together, chatting and laughing like old friends, they had no interest in anyone else. Violetta watched her son with interest, and a little sadness, because there was no possibility of this young love maturing into anything greater. She considered her husband’s wealth and position, and pondered on the divisive force of money. Once, Floriana would have been acceptable. Now, Beppe would have his sights on a girl like Costanza.
That afternoon Dante gave Floriana a tennis lesson. Giovanna lent her a pair of tennis shoes and a racket, then returned to the pool to lie in the sun with Costanza, Damiana, and her friends. Alone on the court, Dante stood behind her, his arms around hers, showing her how to hold the racket. He placed her hands on the grip, but his lips digressed to her neck, and he kissed her there where her skin was soft and warm. She laughed and shrugged him off playfully. “You’re meant to be giving me a lesson.”
“I am. A lesson in love.”
“Stupido!”
“I can’t help it, you’re too delicious.”
“So, I hold it like this. When can I hit a ball?”
“I like your spirit,” he said, reluctantly letting her go. “For every ball you miss, I get a kiss.”
“You’re expecting me to be very uncoordinated.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“But if I’m a natural?”
“I’ll claim them by force!”
“Dante!”
He shrugged. “Because I can.”
He walked around to the other side of the net. She put the racket out, determined to show him that it wasn’t going to be that easy. He tossed a ball. She watched it bounce, drew her racket back, and hit it.
“Looks like I’m a natural,” she said, grinning at him triumphantly.
“Beginner’s luck.”