Stars in an Italian Sky - Softcover

Santopolo, Jill

 
9780593419199: Stars in an Italian Sky
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593419197 ISBN 13: 9780593419199
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

From the New York Times bestselling author of The Light We Lost comes a sweeping story of two star-crossed lovers in post-World War II Italy, and a blossoming relationship generations later that will reveal a long-buried family secret.

Two loves. Two generations. A truth that will set them free.

Genoa, Italy, 1946. Vincenzo and Giovanna fall in love at twenty-one the moment they set eyes on each other. The son of a count and the daughter of a tailor, they belong to opposing classes. Despite this, the undeniable spark between them quickly burns into a deep and passionate relationship spent exploring each other’s minds, bodies, and Vincenzo’s family’s sprawling vineyard, Villa Della Rosa—until shifts in political power force them each to choose a side and commit what the other believes is a betrayal, shattering the bright future they dreamed of together.

New York, 2017. Cassandra and Luca are in love and ready to get married, even though neither quite fits with the other’s family. But when Luca, an artist, convinces his grandfather and Cass’s grandmother to pose for a painting, past and present collide and reveal a secret that changes everything.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jill Santopolo is the New York Times and internationally bestselling author of The Light We Lost, More Than Words, and Everything After. Her work has been translated into more than thirty-five languages. She received a BA from Columbia University and an MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She is also the author of three successful children's and young-adult series and works as the associate publisher of Philomel Books. Santopolo travels the world to speak about writing and storytelling. A New Yorker at heart, Santopolo is currently living in Washington, D.C.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

Genoa, Italy

Then

Giovanna's heart leapt every time the door to her father's tailor shop opened.

It was only six months ago that she, her father, and Faustina had returned from Saluzzo, where they'd spent most of the war. In the autumn of 1942, after a bomb blew out the windows in their shop and in their home above it, her father had boarded up the windows, taken what he could, and brought them all to the farmhouse his parents shared with his brother, Enzo, and his family in the mountain town where he was born.

When they came back to Genoa nearly three years later, they weren't sure they'd be able to open the shop again. The boards across the windows had been splintered, the floor covered in dirt and debris. Bombs had rained down on the city while they were away.

As they had stood staring at the shattered wood and chunks of glass and stone, Faustina spotted a half-destroyed piece of paper crumpled under the rubble-it looked like it had been there for years-and bent down to work it free. "A propaganda leaflet," she'd said, "from the Allied forces: The government in Rome says: the war goes on. This is why our bombing goes on." Faustina shook her head. "The government in Rome cost us our shop."

"It's not so bad," Giovanna had said softly, walking over to her sister and running her fingers across the leaves carved into the counter, which was still standing at the back of the shop. Her fingertips came away covered in soot and dust.

Federico had wrapped an arm around each of his daughters. "The war is over," he'd said then, kissing first Faustina on the top of her head and then Giovanna. "We are still here."
 
"Are our customers?" Faustina had asked.
 
Federico sighed. "We'll see, won't we?"


And they had seen. Their customers had slowly come back, some looking to have their clothing remade to fit bodies that had become leaner during wartime, some wanting skirts tapered to look fashionable again, some carrying a coat or a dress or a sweater left behind by a loved one, asking Federico if there was anything he could do to keep their memories alive.

"I can help," Giovanna told a young mother whose husband had died only six months after their child had entered the world. She took the coat the mother brought and turned it into a stuffed rabbit for the little girl, its ears lined with scraps of satin, its face embroidered with gold thread. The whole time she was sewing, Giovanna wished she still had one of her mother's coats. It had been more than six years since her mother died; Giovanna was fourteen then. She wished she'd been able to carry a small piece of her mother with her all these years, hold that piece in her arms, keep her close. Giovanna sewed her own longing into that bunny.

And now the woman had returned for it.

"One moment," Giovanna said to her, ducking behind the curtain into the back room of the tailor shop, where her father and her sister were working.

She picked the stuffed rabbit off the high shelf where she'd left it to keep it safe.

"That's beautiful, Giovannina," her father said, admiring the rabbit in Giovanna's hands. "Where did you find a pattern for that?"

Giovanna smiled. "I made one up," she told him.

It was something she loved to do: imagine a dress, a shirt, a jacket-or in this case a stuffed rabbit-in her mind's eye and then create it.

"I bet we could sell those," Faustina said, an A-line skirt resting on the sewing machine in front of her. "Do you want me to see if Betto can get some scraps of fabric so you can make more?"

"I can make the pattern for you, if you'd like to make them," Giovanna said as she headed back into the public part of the shop. "But I'd rather work on clothing, if that's okay." She loved how a beautifully fitting dress could give a woman confidence, how perfectly tailored pants could make a boy feel like a man. She would often watch people on the street and tailor their clothing in her mind or imagine new outfits for them entirely. Especially after the war, she wanted to give people that moment of self-assurance, of happiness. But she was glad she was able to make this toy so a little girl could have a physical reminder of her father.

"Here you go," Giovanna said, handing the stuffed rabbit to the woman.

The woman rubbed the rabbit's ears between her fingers and her eyes filled with tears. "What do I owe you?" she asked.

"Nothing," Giovanna said, her heart responding to the sorrow in the woman's eyes, recognizing her own sorrow there. "It's my gift to your daughter."

"You must take something," the woman said. "Perhaps a trade? I still have some plum jam from the summer. I can bring a jar by tomorrow."

"That sounds perfect," Giovanna said, recognizing in the woman a need for fairness. "My family and I love plum jam."

During the war they'd gotten used to trading-for work, for food, for clothing-a way to make sure everyone had what they needed.

The woman smiled when she took hold of the toy. "Angelina will love this," she said, putting the stuffed rabbit in her purse. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Giovanna told her, noticing how loosely the woman's clothing hung on her body, wondering whether it was sorrow or scarcity that had stolen her appetite.

When Giovanna looked up, there was another customer waiting. A young man, about her age, with warm brown eyes, looking at her intently. The intensity of his gaze made her heart flutter. Giovanna's eyes locked with his, and she couldn't look away. It felt like he was looking straight through to her heart, to truly see, to understand. He cleared his throat and she remembered herself.

"Can I help you?" she asked.
 
"You can," he answered, and then didn't say anything more.

Giovanna laughed. She asked that question dozens of times a week, and no one had ever responded that way.

"Well, I'm glad," she said. She glanced down at his clothing, trying to figure him out. It was well made, expensive, but a little small. She could see his socks poking out between the hem of his pants and the top of his shoes. She wondered if he'd grown taller during the war, if he was still wearing pants that fit him when he was fifteen or sixteen.

There was a leather satchel slung over his shoulder and he took it off, placing it between them on the counter. "I was wondering if Signor Ferrero would be able to remake some of my brother's clothing to fit me," he said.

Giovanna took the clothing out of the bag. The fabrics were good quality, and the pants and vests inside weren't that much bigger than the man in front of her.

"I'm sure my father could do that," she said. "I'll get him so he can fit you properly."

"Your father?" he said before she could turn.

"Yes," she said. "My father is Federico Ferrero." She wondered who had sent this man to their store. Most of their customers knew her and Faustina well. "I'm Giovanna," she added.

"Hello, Giovanna." He said her name softly, and her heart fluttered again. "I'm Vincenzo, Vincenzo Della Rosa." Della Rosa. The name was familiar, but she couldn't place why.

Federico walked through the curtain.

"Hello," he said to Vincenzo. "I just heard you introduce yourself to my daughter. Can I assume that you're the conte d'Alba's second son?"

"I am," Vincenzo said.

The conte d'Alba! Giovanna remembered him, a tall man with thick brown hair the same caffe latte color as Vincenzo's. She'd met him twice, a long time ago, but he'd made an impression, since he was the only member of the nobility who frequented her father's shop.

"It's nice to meet you," Federico said. "I hope your father is well."

"He is, thank you," Vincenzo said. Then he paused for a moment. "But we lost my brother in...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593419197
ISBN 13 
9780593419199
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
368
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
preigu
mail@preigu.de

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Osnabrück
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