Don't Say A Word by Barbara Freethy Page A

his mother and also with his father. She wanted to know what drove him now to roam the world in search of the perfect photograph, sometimes risking his life in the process.
        But she wouldn't hear the rest of his story, because they had no reason to speak again.
        Maybe it was better this way. She was engaged. Her attention was supposed to be solely on Michael. Even now, he was reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze, as if he sensed she was drifting away from him and he wanted to pull her back. He was such a good man. She loved him. There was just a tiny, tiny part of her that wasn't sure she was in love with him the way she should be.
        She stood up with the rest of the congregation as the Mass ended, waiting for the priest to walk down the aisle so they could file out of their pews. The solemn, reverent atmosphere immediately became more festive when the DeMarcos hit the sidewalk outside the church and began chatting about anything and everything as they walked the few blocks to her aunt Lucia's house, where they would share their traditional Sunday brunch.
        Julia was happy not to have time for quiet or personal conversation. She knew she should tell Michael that she was giving up the search, but she wasn't quite ready to bring it all up, not with so many people around.
        By the time they entered the house, Lucia's two-story home was already crowded with cousins, aunts, and uncles. A large buffet was set up on the dining room table. The men tended to gather in the living room, usually watching one of the televised football games, while the women put the food out and gossiped about their lives, and the kids played out in the yard or upstairs in the attic, where Lucia's grandchildren had set up a fort.
        Liz grabbed her hand as they paused inside the front door. "Come help me in the kitchen," she said.
        "I'll be back," Julia told Michael. He nodded, already drifting over to the big-screen television set.
        "I haven't had a chance to talk to you since yesterday," Liz said as they walked down the hall to the kitchen. "You were asleep when I got home last night. What have you been doing? Did you find out anything about that doll?"
        "Not really," Julia said evasively.
        "Did you talk to that man again-the photographer's son? What's his name?"
        "Alex Manning. I did speak to him, but-"
        "There you are," Gino said, coming through the kitchen door. "My two girls."
        Julia received a kiss on both cheeks from her father, watching with a smile as he did the same to Lizzie. Gino DeMarco had always been an affectionate and passionate man with a big personality. When he walked into a room, you knew he was there. Her mother had been much more restrained, quieter, sometimes overshadowed by Gino's light.
        "I want to talk to you, Julia, about this wedding of yours," Gino said. "Lucia tells me that I have not been paying enough attention, so now I am paying attention," he declared. "What can I do to help? Besides a write a check, which of course I am happy to do."
        "Thanks for offering, but at the moment it's all under control."
        "Under control?" Liz echoed "You haven't done anything yet. And didn't you tell Michael you were postponing the wedding?"
        Gino looked disturbed by that piece of information. "Is something wrong?"
        "No, everything is fine. Can we talk about this later?" Julia asked. She stepped aside as another one of her aunts came out of the kitchen with a large tray of lasagne .
        "I just want it to be the happiest day of your life, as my wedding to your mother was for me," Gino said, his eyes watering, his mouth trembling with emotion.
        Julia blinked back her own tears. At least she knew one thing for sure. The marriage between her mother and this man had been one of love and passion. Whatever else was up in the air, she could hold on to that certainty. Lizzie was called away by