Bella. “I thought—well, I might try out
for the role of the Heavenly Voice.”
“So
you can be anonymous again and sing from the wings?” asked Gran. “You should
sing the lead role of Elizabeth.”
Bella
regarded Gran beseechingly. “But I have to build my confidence slowly. After
all, the Voice is a solo role.”
“I suppose,
dear,” Gran said, disappointment clearly in her tone. “Only don't take too
long.”
Bella
felt a chill. “But—you said you're having a good day.”
Isabella
reached across the table to grasp Bella's hand and regarded her tenderly. “I'm
not suggesting you call a priest yet, darling. But sometimes I think God is
only keeping me alive so I can hear you perform as a diva.”
“Gran,
I'm sure you're going to be with us for a long time,” said Bella with forced
vehemence, despite a heart thudding with anxiety. “Will you attend the
rehearsal tonight?”
“No,
I prefer to wait for the premiere tomorrow.”
“Lesley
Litchfield is a nervous wreck, since most of the local media will be present.”
“Oh,
I'm sure you'll all do fine.” Isabella reached into her pocket, pulled out a
small velvet box, and slid it across the table. “Speaking of the premiere,
here's something to wear for good luck. Sorry I didn't have time to wrap it.
There will be birthday presents and a cake for you tonight at supper.”
Bella
fingered the box. “You're going to too much trouble.”
Gran
waved her off. “Yetta's doing most of it. Open your gift.”
Bella
flipped open the lid and gasped as she viewed a beautiful, ornate golden brooch
with a medallion carved with images of Cupid and Psyche, and surrounded by mother-of-pearl.
She turned the medallion over and read the inscription: “To Bella, Love, Gran,
July 3, 1996.”
“Gran,
it's exquisite!” she cried, deeply touched. “But it's yours, isn't it? I mean,
I seem to remember you wearing it when I was a child.”
Isabella
nodded, her expression wistful. “My mother gave it to me when I was only
seventeen. I'll never forget her words: 'Isabella, I'm giving you this brooch
of Cupid because I sense love is about to come into your life.'“ Isabella
beamed. “And she was right. Within a year, I met my Antonio.”
“What
a sweet story,” Bella breathed. “But I don't want you to give this up for me—”
“Nonsense,”
Gran cut in. “I always intended the piece for you. I haven't worn it since
Antonio died . . . it just wouldn't be the same.”
Hearing
the bittersweet emotion in Gran's voice, Bella nodded. She fingered the brooch.
“So you're hoping for some great-grandchildren, are you, Gran?”
Isabella
chuckled. “Once you become established in your career, I'm sure your thoughts
will turn to romance and children.”
Bella
repressed a smile. Her thoughts were already turning to romance—in a very
strange way—but she felt as conflicted as ever over her “career.”
“I'll
wear the medallion tonight,” she told Gran proudly. “During my 'Bird in a
Gilded Cage' number, I'm supposed to wear a cameo brooch, but I think this
piece will be perfect. I'll wear it and hold one of those beautiful roses you
sent.”
“The
roses your parents sent,” corrected Gran firmly.
Bella
snickered, but decided not to argue further. “Thank you, Gran. I'll cherish
this always.”
“You're
welcome, darling.” Isabella snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. That
nice young man, John Randolph, called again early this morning. He wanted to
wish you a happy birthday, but I told him you were still sleeping.”
“Aha!”
cried Bella. “So here's the real reason I've been given the brooch.”
“I
thought it couldn't hurt, dear,” Gran admitted sheepishly.
“I
wish John would stop calling me all the time.”
“But
why? He seems perfectly charming.”
“He
wants a summer fling.”
Isabella
winked at Bella. “Perhaps it would do you good, no?”
“Gran!”
Bella feigned a scandalized look.
Isabella
laughed heartily.
for the role of the Heavenly Voice.”
“So
you can be anonymous again and sing from the wings?” asked Gran. “You should
sing the lead role of Elizabeth.”
Bella
regarded Gran beseechingly. “But I have to build my confidence slowly. After
all, the Voice is a solo role.”
“I suppose,
dear,” Gran said, disappointment clearly in her tone. “Only don't take too
long.”
Bella
felt a chill. “But—you said you're having a good day.”
Isabella
reached across the table to grasp Bella's hand and regarded her tenderly. “I'm
not suggesting you call a priest yet, darling. But sometimes I think God is
only keeping me alive so I can hear you perform as a diva.”
“Gran,
I'm sure you're going to be with us for a long time,” said Bella with forced
vehemence, despite a heart thudding with anxiety. “Will you attend the
rehearsal tonight?”
“No,
I prefer to wait for the premiere tomorrow.”
“Lesley
Litchfield is a nervous wreck, since most of the local media will be present.”
“Oh,
I'm sure you'll all do fine.” Isabella reached into her pocket, pulled out a
small velvet box, and slid it across the table. “Speaking of the premiere,
here's something to wear for good luck. Sorry I didn't have time to wrap it.
There will be birthday presents and a cake for you tonight at supper.”
Bella
fingered the box. “You're going to too much trouble.”
Gran
waved her off. “Yetta's doing most of it. Open your gift.”
Bella
flipped open the lid and gasped as she viewed a beautiful, ornate golden brooch
with a medallion carved with images of Cupid and Psyche, and surrounded by mother-of-pearl.
She turned the medallion over and read the inscription: “To Bella, Love, Gran,
July 3, 1996.”
“Gran,
it's exquisite!” she cried, deeply touched. “But it's yours, isn't it? I mean,
I seem to remember you wearing it when I was a child.”
Isabella
nodded, her expression wistful. “My mother gave it to me when I was only
seventeen. I'll never forget her words: 'Isabella, I'm giving you this brooch
of Cupid because I sense love is about to come into your life.'“ Isabella
beamed. “And she was right. Within a year, I met my Antonio.”
“What
a sweet story,” Bella breathed. “But I don't want you to give this up for me—”
“Nonsense,”
Gran cut in. “I always intended the piece for you. I haven't worn it since
Antonio died . . . it just wouldn't be the same.”
Hearing
the bittersweet emotion in Gran's voice, Bella nodded. She fingered the brooch.
“So you're hoping for some great-grandchildren, are you, Gran?”
Isabella
chuckled. “Once you become established in your career, I'm sure your thoughts
will turn to romance and children.”
Bella
repressed a smile. Her thoughts were already turning to romance—in a very
strange way—but she felt as conflicted as ever over her “career.”
“I'll
wear the medallion tonight,” she told Gran proudly. “During my 'Bird in a
Gilded Cage' number, I'm supposed to wear a cameo brooch, but I think this
piece will be perfect. I'll wear it and hold one of those beautiful roses you
sent.”
“The
roses your parents sent,” corrected Gran firmly.
Bella
snickered, but decided not to argue further. “Thank you, Gran. I'll cherish
this always.”
“You're
welcome, darling.” Isabella snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. That
nice young man, John Randolph, called again early this morning. He wanted to
wish you a happy birthday, but I told him you were still sleeping.”
“Aha!”
cried Bella. “So here's the real reason I've been given the brooch.”
“I
thought it couldn't hurt, dear,” Gran admitted sheepishly.
“I
wish John would stop calling me all the time.”
“But
why? He seems perfectly charming.”
“He
wants a summer fling.”
Isabella
winked at Bella. “Perhaps it would do you good, no?”
“Gran!”
Bella feigned a scandalized look.
Isabella
laughed heartily.
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