One Winter Weekend

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

T he lobby of the Hotel Marliconi was gloriously opulent, a mix of old-world wood, Italian marble and art deco stained glass.

White stone statues of women with water pitchers stood in a small fountain in the centre of the massive reception room, giving it the extravagant feel of something from a movie, while overhead a magnificent fresco depicted a classic Renaissance scene.

Additional Christmas-themed decor – a tree, nativity scene, and a few red-and-green bows dotted here and there – gave the hotel a somewhat more festive look, though Caroline couldn’t help but notice again how much more subdued it was compared to the glitzier stuff back home.

Still, any Christmassy decor paled in comparison to the inherent beauty of the city itself.

Caroline was still reeling from her first sight of the Colosseum on the approach to the city of Rome from the airport. And everywhere she looked were jaw-dropping sights of Renaissance architecture and Italian grandeur.

A gigantic structure of Corinthian columns, fountains, and equestrian sculpture in the centre of the city that Molly pointed out as the Victor Emmanuel monument was awe-inspiring, as was a passing glimpse of the Roman Forum, and the myriad Baroque fountains and pretty piazzas that gave the picturesque city an almost other-worldly feel.

Now she and Molly approached the reception desk arm-in-arm. Molly still seemed jittery, bothered by the absence of Caroline’s bridesmaid dress and she thought, a little put out by the fact that her best friend seemed to be the only one in the wedding party impressed by the city sights.

On the way in the taxi, the O’Briens seemed distracted and uncomfortable, and only nodded in passing when Molly pointed out areas of interest and beauty.

For someone who loved Italy as much as her friend, and was so eager to share her great passion for the city she’d chosen as her wedding destination, it was no doubt disappointing.

She rubbed her friend’s shoulders reassuringly.

“The dress will come in time, Mol,” she soothed, guiding her to the front desk. “Don’t worry. It’s just a hiccup – nothing to worry about. It wouldn’t be a wedding without a little bad luck.”

Behind them, Molly’s parents gazed around the hotel reception, a little taken aback.

“It’s a bit … grand, isn’t it?” Helen commented.

“It is,” Paddy responded. “I don’t mind paying for a nice hotel, but I certainly didn’t expect a palace.”

At the back of the group, James and Patricia Pembrey shuffled into the lobby, followed by Ben, whose voice echoed off the marble walls as he barked into his phone.

“Mark, this is simply ridiculous,” he said testily. “No – no – I don’t – listen to me, I don’t care . This is my wedding . You’re my brother, my best man. I think it’s fair of me to expect you to be here at least … okay.” He hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

“So where’s Mark?” Molly asked when Ben caught up with her at reception.

He sighed. “Still back in London working on some kind of ‘server issues,’” he said in an irritated voice. “He says he’s ‘trying’ to get away, but it could be well be tomorrow night by the time he arrives.” Then he took a deep breath and put his arm around his fiancee. “Look. Let’s just get everyone checked in and then we’ll all go have a drink and chill out a bit, OK?”

Molly nodded, and turned back to the check in desk. The young Italian woman behind the counter had a bored, almost lackadaisical look on her face as she leaned against the back wall, gazing at her phone.

Ben threw a quick glance towards Molly and called out, “Um, excuse me?”

The woman sighed, put her phone in her pocket, and walked up to her computer.

“Buonasera,” she greeted with fake cheeriness, “how can I help you today?”

“Buonasera,” Molly replied with a smile. “We’d like to check into our rooms please. There should be four in total, all under the name O’Brien.”

The woman typed some info into her computer, and the machine beeped. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I have no rooms under that name. Would they be under another?”

“Erm, Pembrey, perhaps?” Ben offered.

She typed the letters in. This time there was no beep, but rather a chime, followed by a look of sheer confusion on the part of the clerk. “I am sorry,” she said, not looking particularly apologetic, “I must speak to my manager. One moment, please.”

Caroline joined them at the desk. “What’s going on?” she inquired.

Molly shrugged. “Dunno,” she said. “She just looked really confused and then bounded off.”

A few moments later, the clerk returned with a short, bald, mustachioed manager, a grave look on his face. “Buonasera,” he greeted them, “are you Signorina O’Brien?”

“I am,” she nodded. Ben’s parents now huddled close to them, attempting to hear what was going on. “What’s the problem?” Molly asked the manager.

“It seems we have a small … issue,” he stated. “Our hotel – it is fully booked, and though we have your reservation, it seems we have sold the rooms.”

Molly’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “You’ve done what ?” she demanded.

“It was a mistake, I assure you, Signorina, and not one that happens at this hotel often.” He looked towards the staff member suspiciously, as if she personally were the one to blame.

Molly threw her hands up in the air and walked off. Ben looked to his parents – at which point James stepped in – and he darted after his fiancée.

As he went, he heard his father assume his most pompous, House of Lords voice: “Now see here, sir, this is our son’s wedding, and we were assured of having four suites at this hotel. It was guaranteed , so do you know what you’re going to do? I’ll tell you what you are going to do. You will…”

Ben was out of earshot when he found Molly at the other end of the lobby, staring out the window towards a picturesque piazza. He went over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Molly, hon,” he said consolingly, “it’s going to be okay – ”

“‘Okay?’” she whispered, as she turned to face him. “Ben, nothing is okay. First, Caroline’s dress doesn’t get here, my parents do nothing but complain about the place, your best man isn’t even sure he’ll make it… and now, they can’t find our room reservations. What exactly is okay?”

“That we’re here in Rome to be married, like we always wanted.”

“Oh, Ben,” she cried, tears threatening. “I know that, but …I’m wondering if doing this at Christmas was a mistake. This has been nothing but a disaster so far – and we’ve only been in the city less than an hour. To say nothing of the fact that it doesn't feel very Christmassy at all.”

Ben hugged her close. “Do you trust me?” he asked, a glint in his eye. She looked up at him, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “Then trust me when I say it’s going to work itself out. I promise.” She sniffled a bit but nodded again.

A few moments later, Patricia and James rejoined the group, along with a handsome Italian man in his late thirties with deep brown eyes, and a smile that immediately sent both Caroline’s and Molly’s hearts aflutter.

He went straight up to Molly and kissed her on both cheeks. “Signorina,” he said, still smiling, in perfect English but with a delicious Italian inflection. “My name is Fabrizio, and I am your coordinator for your stay with us here at the Hotel Marliconi.”

He turned to Ben, who held out his hand for a handshake, but Fabrizio leaned in and kissed him on both cheeks as well. “Here in Italy,” he explained, “we do not shake hands usually – we are a passionate people. We enjoy intimacy.”

Molly’s father rolled his eyes. He leaned forward and whispered to his wife, “A handshake will be intimate enough for me, thanks very much.” Helen stifled a laugh as the wedding planner introduced himself to the rest of the group.

“Firstly,” Fabrizio said after his introductions, “please accept my apologies for the mix-up with your reservations. Signor Pembrey – ”

James cleared his throat. “ Lord Pembrey, actually,” he corrected pompously.

“ – sorry,” Fabrizio apologised, with a twinkle in his eye, “ Lord Pembrey. We are not yet very certain what happened, but rest assured, we will do everything we can to accommodate you.”

Molly brightened immediately. “So we’re getting our rooms then?” she asked.

The smile left Fabrizio’s face. “Well,” he said, immediately causing her face to fall, “that is what we hope. We unfortunately have all of our suites currently occupied. However, we can for now put you in our also beautiful Deluxe Room, and if a suite becomes available, we will of course move you there.”

Molly opened her mouth to protest, but Ben took her hand and wrapped it in his.

“It’s better than nothing,” he said.

“ Fantastico ,” Fabrizio said enthusiastically, his smile still in place. “Now, I will call someone to help you with your bags. Perhaps you would like to bathe, relax for a bit. Can we meet at our terrazza restaurant in, say, one hour to discuss plans for your wedding?”

“Sounds good,” Ben replied.

“ Eccellente !” the Italian man grinned. “I will send up the luggage with, maybe, a bottle of wine for each of you? Will that be acceptable?”

Caroline perked up at the words she’d been waiting for. “ God yes, please,” she said. “We could definitely use some of that.”