Stone Barrington 06-11

always called her Dolce.
    The cardinal was now dressed in a beautifully cut black suit.
    Half an hour later they were all shown aboard Eduardo’s motor launch and transported to dinner at the world-famous Harry’s Bar. Stone suspected that Eduardo’s presence alone would be cause for considerable deference from the restaurant’s staff, but the presence of a cardinal sent them into paroxysms of service. Stone had never seen so many waiters move so fast and from so crouched a position.
    They dined on a variety of antipasti and thinly sliced calf ’s liver with a sherry sauce, with a saffron risotto on the side. The wines were superlative, and by the time they had been returned to the Bianchi palazzo, Stone was a little drunk, more than a little jet-lagged, and ready for bed. Dolce left him at his door with a kiss and vanished down the hallway.
    Stone died for ten hours.

Four

    A T NINE O’CLOCK THE FOLLOWING MORNING, STONE was resurrected by a servant bearing a tray of blood-red orange juice, toast, prosciutto, sliced figs, small pastries, and coffee. A corner of the huge tray held that day’s International Herald Tribune and the previous day’s New York Times . By the time he had breakfasted and done the crossword puzzle, it was after ten.
    The servant knocked and entered. “Mister Bianchi requests that you be downstairs at eleven o’clock,” he said. “The civil ceremony is to be at noon.” He disappeared.
    Stone shaved and showered then went to the huge cupboard where his clothes hung, all freshly pressed. He dressed in a white linen suit he had bought for the occasion, a pale yellow, Sea Island cotton shirt, a tie with muted stripes, and tan alligator oxfords. Finally, he tucked a yellow silk square into his breast pocket, stuffed his trouser pockets with the usual contents, including some lire, and consulted the mirror. It occurred to him that he might never look so good again.
    The group gathered in the central hall of the palazzo. Dolce wore a dazzling white silk dress that showed a becoming amount of very fine leg and wore only a single strand of pearls for jewelry, along with the five-carat, emerald-cut diamond engagement ring supplied by a man of Stone’s acquaintance in the diamond district of New York.
    “You are very beautiful,” Stone said to Dolce, kissing her.
    “Funny, that’s what I was going to say about you,” Dolce replied. “I love the suit.”
    “It’s my wedding dress,” Stone explained.
    Dino and Mary Ann were well turned out, and to Stone’s astonishment, Aunt Rosaria wore a dress of white lace. She was, apparently, out of mourning, at least for the day.
    “Is the cardinal coming?” Stone asked Dino.
    “No,” Dino replied. “Cardinals don’t attend civil marriage ceremonies.”
    “I suppose not,” Stone said.
    They were escorted to the palazzo’s jetty where a small fleet of gondolas, garlanded with flowers, awaited, and they were rowed down a bewildering series of canals to the town hall, where the mayor awaited on the jetty.
    Moments later, the party was arranged before an impossibly ornate desk in the mayor’s office. Much Italian was spoken. At one point, the mayor turned to Stone, his eyebrows lifted high.
    “Say ‘ sì ,’ ” Dino whispered.
    “ Sì ,” Stone said.
    Dolce also said, “ Sì ,” then an ornate document was produced and signed by Stone and Dolce, then by the mayor and the witnesses. The mayor said something else, delivered sternly.
    Dino translated. “He says, ‘Remember, you are not yet entitled to the pleasures of the marriage chamber.’ ”
    Back on the jetty outside the town hall, Stone discovered that the gondolas had been replaced by Eduardo’s motor launch, and shortly, they were moving fast over open water, toward an island.
    Dolce, who held fast to Stone’s arm, explained. “Papa has taken the Cipriani Hotel for lunch.”
    “You mean the dining room?”
    “I mean the entire hotel; Papa has many guests. There will be many people at lunch, but don’t worry about remembering their names; they don’t matter.”
    Stone nodded.
    The hotel occupied the entire island, and lunch was held in its garden.
    “Not much chance of party crashers,” Dino commented as they walked into the garden. “Unless they swim well.” He looked around at the huge crowd of guests who were applauding their entrance—middle-aged and elderly Italians, dressed for Sunday, who were demonstratively affectionate with Dolce and who behaved toward