Read Online Taking Tuscany by Renée Riva - Free Book Online

Lincoln.”
    Hmm. My favorite president. Interesting.
    Daddy swigs down the last of his coffee. “Looks like a good day to add another brick to the ol’ castle. What do you say we meet back here around dinnertime and try to catch a glimpse of your sister on TV?”

    According to Mama, Adriana’s fashion show is the biggest annual fashion event of the year, and Models of Milan is representing the best new lines. Daddy and I have decided to pop up some popcorn and watch the big event as long as we can stand it, hoping Adriana is in the early part of the show. The boys would rather swim, and told us to holler at them when she comes on. They’ll try to race to the house in time to catch a glimpse of her. Brotherly devotion at its best.
    Neither Daddy nor I are ones for the big city, but Mama thrives on this stuff and is just tickled pink that her daughter could get her free tickets for the show. I, for one, enjoy the opening riffraff more than the actual show itself. I’m catching all the hoopla of the glamour queens arriving on the scene in limos while Daddy’s popping up the corn. “Make that with extra butter, please,” I yell toward the kitchen.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Daddy yells back.
    There are some really kooky people in this fashion business according to Adriana, especially some of the designers. “They’re like this class of people stuck somewhere in between feminine and masculine,” she’d told me.
    She works with a male designer named Marcello, who wears sequined jackets and has a long ponytail halfway down his back, and is married to Chanay, who wears jean jackets and has a short, chic haircut. Sounds confusing, but I’m beginning to get the picture. There are some real characters strutting in front of the cameras. They are mostly young and very thin, with outlandish getups. The reporter is talking to a gal with a ponytail sticking straight up out of a six-inch tube before it fans out at the top. He’s trying to get her name, but there is some big commotion going on off screen that everyone is running off to—including the reporter, who just cut off what the whale-spout lady was saying.
    He informs the crowd that there’s a celebrity movie star attending the show and they’re trying to confirm who it is. The cameras swing to the gathering crowd and zoom in on the unexpected guest …
    Oh, no … it can’t be … it’s … “Daddy! Hurry, come quick!”
    Daddy comes hustling into the room. “Is it Adriana? Is she on?”
    â€œNo, Daddy, it’s not Adriana … it’s Mama!”
    â€œ Sophia ?” Daddy swoops in front of the television to get a closer look.
    â€œI can’t believe Mama’s pulling her Sofia trick on live TV … look, she’s signing autographs!”
    â€œ Bravissima , Sofia!” The reporter goes on to confirm that they have Sofia Loren right there in her home town of Rome … and what an honor it is for her to so graciously sign autographs for her fans.
    The camera zooms in on my Mama and there she is basking in all her glory, just signing away like this is what she was born to do. “She had better get out of there before this goes too far …”
    Daddy sinks onto the couch, shaking his head in amazement. He looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or go haul Mama out of Rome.
    Now the paparazzi are storming in for photos. Mama is creating a scene, and the reporters have to yell over the crowd just to get a few questions to her.
    Mama turns and blows a kiss to the crowd. Her trademark tactic for avoiding conversations. She’s said it before: “It’s one thing to pull off looking like Sofia, but they can’t expect me to sound like her too.”
    As the crowd starts to close in, Mama has claustrophobia written all over her face. She loves a crowd, but this is more like a mob. Her eyes dart around nervously. All of a sudden