Convenient Brides. Catherine Spencer

or three weeks.”

      “So soon? Paolo, a wedding takes time to arrange.”

      “Not this one,” Callie interjected. “We want something small and private.”

      “What’s the big rush?” Salvatore asked, his radar still obviously on high alert. “We are a family in mourning.”

      “Which is exactly why we want to keep the fuss to a minimum.” Paolo turned to the twins. “But there’s more. Zia Caroline and I would like to make a home for the two of you. We want you to come and live with us.”

      “So that’s what this is really all about!” Salvatore blew out a breath of undisguised relief. “I was beginning to think you’d taken leave of your senses.”

      Paolo fixed him in a severe look. “If you cannot be happy for Caroline and me, Father, then at least have the good grace to keep quiet.”

      By then oblivious to the mounting tension, Gina bounced up and down on the sofa in excitement. “Can I be a bridesmaid? My friend Anita was a bridesmaid when her uncle got married, and she wore a pretty dress, with flowers in her hair.”

      Callie was about to say no, it wasn’t going to be that kind of wedding, but Paolo spoke up first. “Of course you may. Every bride should have a maid to help her on her wedding day, just as every groom should have a best man.” He eyed his nephew. “Are you willing to take on the job, Clemente, or do I ask someone else to do it?”

      “I’ll do it,” Clemente said solemnly, “but first I have a question. Everything you say makes Gina and me feel happy, Zio Paolo, but how can that be right when our parents just died?”

      Callie’s heart constricted. “Oh, honey,” she said softly, drawing him to her, “don’t ever feel you don’t have the right to be happy.Your mommy and daddy wouldn’t want that, at all.”

      “But won’t they think we’ll forget them, if we come to live with you?”

      “No,” she assured him. “Because they know we’ll never be able to take their place. We’re just standing in for them.”

      “Will they know we’ll still miss them?”

      How sensitive he was, this young son of hers. Moved, she said, “Of course they will. We’ll all miss them. But I think they’ll feel better knowing your uncle and I are there to look after you.”

      “They have their grandmother and me,” Salvatore reminded her sourly.

      “Yes.” She spared him a passing glance. “But even you must agree that children can never have too many people who care about them, and whether or not you believe it, Signor Rainero, your grandchildren’s welfare is something I hold very dear to my heart.”

      If he wasn’t impressed by her remarks, Clemente was. His mouth curving in a tiny smile, he said, “You’re nice, Zia Caroline.”

      “Nice enough to be given a hug?”

      He screwed up his face, debating the question. “Okay,” he said finally, and came into her embrace.

      It was the first time she’d ever felt his arms close around her as if he meant it, instead of as if it was a duty he was compelled to perform. Struggling to hang on to her composure, she looked to Paolo for help.

      “Enough of trying to strangle my future wife, young man,” he decreed, all mock indignation mixed with laughter. “And no tears from you, Caroline, or you, Momma! Tonight is for celebrating.”

      “So that’s why there’s champagne chilling,” Salvatore said, drumming up a token smile. “Well, since you’ve both made up your minds, I suppose I should propose a toast.”