15
Lago di Como, 1952
Under the rose-covered pergola, Ruby leaned against Niccolò and cupped her hands around a mug of cappuccino he’d made for her that morning. She was still a little bleary-eyed from the wine and limoncello they’d had, and her feet ached from hours of dancing, but she was so happy being here with him.
Last night, they had gone out in Varenna for the celebration of Ferragosto. They’d eaten and danced and watched fireworks bursting over the lake. Ruby couldn’t recall when she’d had so much fun. The holiday reminded her of the Fourth of July in America, and when she told Niccolò that he’d laughed, saying that everyone liked an excuse for fireworks and dancing.
“After mass, we can speak to the priest,” Niccolò said. “He’s young, and I think he’ll help us. Varenna is in t
