The BelPittorio men come from a long line of exceptional artists. They all live together in a sprawling villa in southern Italy that is both their home and art studio. They are talented, handsome, and wealthy. One would think they have everything one could ask for, however…
After a break-up with his longtime girlfriend, Arturo BelPittorio is sent to New York City by his great-grandfather to pick up a marble bust and find an art restorer.What Arturo finds is not what he expected.
New York, New York
Four interviews were set up by Umberto BelPittorio in the Garden Room at the Grand Hotel. Only one art restorer showed up. Frank LaRosa, well, to be exact, Franki LaRosa, a tiny woman with dark brown hair in a short pixie cut and huge brown eyes. She wore blue jeans, a New York Yankees hoodie, and a dark baseball cap.
“I see you dressed up for our interview. I am so sorry, Miss LaRosa, but you will not work out. We prefer a man art restorer.”
“Oh, damn, I forgot to wear my ball gown. My credentials are impeccable, Mr. BelPittorio. And,” she looked around the empty room and whispered to him, “I’m the only applicant who showed up for the job.”
“Yes, that is very true,” said Arturo, scratching his head. “I do not know why the others did not show up.”
“I do. The BelPittorio men have a reputation for being uniquely artistic, unbelievably talented, handsome,”
“Yes,” Arturo nodded and giggled. He tugged at his shirt collar.
“And extremely difficult to work with.”
“No!”
“Yes. You BelPittorio men are throw-backs to the dark ages.”
“What?” Arturo gulped.
“Are you guys aware it’s the year 2016? Do you realize excellent art restorers come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and genders? I know I only made the short list because my last name is Italian.”
“You,” he pointed at her, “You, little girl, you are very rude. You have very bad manners. And you have no respect.”
He pulled at the cuffs of his long-sleeved white dress shirt and shook his head. “You would never fit in at Casabella.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Artie baby. I thought you needed a qualified art restorer, one who was willing to move in and carefully and lovingly bring your old masterpieces back to their former glory and stay until all the work is done. One year. Two. Longer. I was willing to do just that; put my life here in New York on hold to bring your beautiful old paintings back to life. But, no! Now I find out you don’t want an art restorer you want Miss Perfect Manners in a ball gown.
“No, I take that back. You want a male art restorer with no life of his own. That is your top qualification. So, Artie, take your live-in art restorer dream job in beautiful, sunny, southern Italy at the gorgeous Casabella Mansion and give a good hard shove sideways up your very nicely formed backside. I’m out of here.”
“Good riddance,” he shouted after her and slammed the door.
Arturo had a few drinks at the hotel bar to calm down before heading over to Parker apartment on Park Ave. to pick up the bust.
He rang the doorbell under Mailbox 425 labeled A. Parker in the outer lobby of the grand, old, but well-maintained apartment building. He straightened his tie. He smoothed down the back of his hair. He cleared his throat. Being here at the apartment of the woman who was his great great-grandfather’s romantic fascination was a delicious experience for him.
“Hello. I’m Arturo BelPittorio. My great-grandfather Umberto sent me to pick up the bust.”
“Please come up, Arturo. I’ve been expecting you.”
Arturo took the elevator to the fourth floor and found Apartment 425. He rang the doorbell. The door opened. An older woman smiled at him.
“Hello, Arturo. I’m Amelia Parker’s daughter, Constance. The family heirloom is in here. I left it out for you to see before we box it up.”
Arturo followed her into the living room. And there, on the mantle was the most beautiful, delicate, marble carved bust of woman Arturo had ever seen. Perfect oval face. Large almond-shaped eyes, expressive even in stone. Thick, long eyelashes. Long flowing hair. The perfect nose. And lips! Such full, lush, kissable, lips begging for attention. Arturo gasped.
“Arturo, meet Amelia.”
Arturo stared in silence. “She is exquisite,” he whispered. “Now that I see her, I do not wish to take her away from her family. How can you give her up?”
“She is not mine to keep,” Constance said with wet eyes. “She belonged to my mother. My mother wanted to send the bust to Leo while he was still alive. She grieved when she heard of his passing. She loved him very much.”
“Papa Leo never married. Did Amelia marry another?”
“Yes. She married my father. They had one child, me. They divorced after two years. She rarely spoke of my father. We never heard from him. I think your Papa Leo was the love of her life.”
“Papa Umberto, that’s Leo’s son, he says the same thing. It is sad they could not make it work when they loved each other so much.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep her?”
“Of course, we want to keep her. My daughter, granddaughter, and I often gaze at this statue that captures more than my mother’s outward beauty, but her kind, gentle soul, and her lively, fiery spirit. We feel part of her is here with us. But my mother wanted this beauty returned to Casabella so part of her could rest with Leo.”
Constance blinked back tears. Arturo gently hugged her and patted her back.
“They should have been together all these years,” said Arturo.
“Yes,” whispered Constance.
“Constance, I make you this promise. You can come to see her anytime you wish. She will always be available for you to visit, talk to, or simply sit in the same room with her.”
“Thank you, Arturo, That is very kind of you. But I am far too old to make that long flight overseas to Italy anymore.”
“You may change your mind. The beautiful marble Amelia will always be available for you and your family to visit.”
“Thank you. Maybe my daughter Sue Ellen might want to see her at Casabella. And my granddaughter Cesca. She’s the one who brought all the crating material to pack her up. She’s very interested in the arts, also.”
Together Arturo and Constance carefully packed up the smooth, cool white marble bust and secured it.
“Then your Cesca is also welcome anytime. I will give her the great tour. Is she here? I would love to meet her.”
“She’s upstairs with a frightful migraine. I’m afraid she had a terrible afternoon.”
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