Chapter Text
The first time Aldo met Tedesco's grand-niece was three months after her arrival in Venice. Oh, he had heard about her beforehand. Everyone in the Vatican had heard about how the Venetian Patriarch had been forced to take in his grand-niece after the sudden death of her parents while arrangements for her care were settled with other relatives.
He had heard it from Thomas, in fact, rather than the usual gossip, because the Patriarch had had to cancel his attendance at an upcoming discussion on the topic of non-traditional family structures within the Church, or more plainly put, what to do about gay couples and divorcees. At the time, Aldo had been much more interested in the potential advantage of Tedesco's absence than the irregularity of the situation.
“Poor girl,” he'd said with a grim chuckle, “I wouldn't wish a month's stay with Tedesco on any young woman.”
Thomas had given one of his pinched little disapproving smiles, and that had been the last Aldo thought of it.
That is, until he'd been on a visit to Venice with Giulio to discuss an upcoming publication on which, irritatingly, the new pope had insisted they collaborate with the patriarch before approving. Aldo could, begrudgingly, see his logic. The topic was new guidelines for handling so-called “private revelations” and discerning their veracity, something that had fallen under Tedesco's authority during his time as Prefect for the Doctrine of Faith, a position Sabbadin had since taken on with great gusto, if a few ruffled feathers from the conservative contingent in the Curia.
The discussion had been going surprisingly well, the subject at hand not political enough to arouse either party's ire, but still academic enough to generate some genuinely stimulating discussion. It helped that all three cardinals had encountered their share of such “spiritual phenomena,” and all shared what they considered to be a practical amount of skepticism about such occurrences.
Aldo suspected this had been Innocent's intention, to force some common ground on the figure heads for either end of the Curia's political spectrum. Aldo wanted to be irritated, but couldn't quite bring himself to. It had worked, after all.
Besides, Tedesco's study within the patriarchal palazzo was spacious and comfortable, and Tedesco, if nothing else, was an accommodating host. Though the day outside was dreary with rain, the canals beginning to overflow onto the sidewalks, the study was warm and bright. Coffee had been called for, and they had retreated to the more comfortable seating area, having hashed out the better part of their disagreements.
They had moved onto minutia, when in the midst of refilling his cup, Tedesco had cut himself off and called over Aldo and Giulio's heads, “Mia cara, there you are!”
Giulio and Aldo both turned in their armchairs to see a young girl, —about twelve, maybe? Aldo's experience with children was necessarily limited and now decades in the past— with a mop of dark curls, standing in the doorway in socked feet. She was wearing what appeared to be pajama pants and practically drowning in what could only be one of Tedesco's sweaters, scarlet and coming down almost to her knees. She stood frozen, as if she had been trying to sneak past the door unnoticed.
“Come here, let me introduce you to my friends,” Tedesco continued, oblivious to the girls' apparent discomfort, not to mention Aldo and Sabbadin's raised eyebrows at being dubbed his 'friends', gesturing her forward with his usual emphatic flare.
“I'm sorry,” she said in a small voice, “I don't want—.”
“Nonsense!” Tedesco boomed jovially, standing and coming to put his hands on her shoulders and guiding her over to the couch. She allowed herself to be steered into the room, giving a helpless little smile to the two cardinals, apparently resigned to the futility of resisting Tedesco when he had set his mind to something.
“Cardinale Bellini, Cardinale Sabbadin, this is my— how do you say in English— my grand-niece, Maria,” Tedesco said, smiling as he returned to his seat. “She has recently come from New York. Maybe you have much in common, eh Bellini?” He laughed. Despite Aldo having lived in Italy for the better part of his career, Tedesco still delighted in being overly-solicitous in using English in his presence and mentioned his American origin at every opportunity.
Giulio and Aldo greeted her politely and smiled at her shy reply in American-accented English, pretending not to notice her face turning as red as the sweater she was wearing. Aldo wondered in amusement if it was a family trait, having seen Tedesco turn almost that exact shade during particularly vicious arguments. Sabbadin did not seem particularly surprised by her presence but Aldo for his part had assumed she had already been packed off to younger, more secular relatives months ago.
“She's not been feeling well,” Tedesco explained, “Ecco, cara, I'll call for some tea,” he said, gesturing to his assistant, “You'll feel better.”
Aldo could see that she did indeed look under the weather, her eyes and nose red and swollen, and her movements slow and a bit clumsy as she settled herself on the couch next to her great-uncle. (Aldo wondered uncharitably if Tedesco's insistence on bringing her into the room was an attempt at germ warfare, but then felt ashamed of himself. She really did look miserable.)
As soon as she was seated, Tedesco immediately wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side, pressing an absent-minded kiss to her head before continuing where they had left off as if nothing peculiar had happened, “Now, this reference to Rosa Mystica, I'm not sure about it...”
Aldo found himself distracted from the discussion, however, taken in by this incongruous version of Tedesco. Aldo had never seen the man interact with any female, let alone a little girl, with anything but coldly polite disinterest.
His niece —Maria, was it?— had settled against the patriarch without apparent discomfort, though, and after the tea had been delivered and Tedesco had made her a cup with lemon and surely too much sugar, she had stayed quietly tucked next to him, staring sleepily into space between sips, seeming to find nothing unusual in Tedesco's behavior.
The discussion had continued over her head for some time before she started to nod, and Tedesco extracted the cup and saucer from her loose hands to send her back to bed.
Her presence in the room hadn't lasted more than half an hour, and yet Aldo found himself puzzling over it on the long train ride back to Rome. What on earth was she still doing in Venice? Weren't most of Tedesco's family down in the south? And who on earth was this domestic, grandfatherly Tedesco?
Sabbadin, seeming to read his thoughts, asked with a smirk, “What? Surprised by Nonno Goffredo?”
Aldo huffed in annoyance and tossed down the newspaper he'd been pretending to read. It was useless to try to hide anything from the Milanese cardinal.
“You're telling me you weren't surprised? Tedesco, a family man?”
“I don't know what you mean,” Sabbadin replied, obviously enjoying the advantage of whatever superior knowledge he had about the situation. “He has always been most passionate about 'family values.'”
Aldo scoffed, “When it comes to denying the dignity of others' families. But caring for a child?”
“A teenager, actually. She's fourteen.” Sabbadin corrected.
Aldo gave him an unimpressed look, “You've been digging up information about a fourteen year old, Giulio? Surely your talents have better uses.”
Giulio was unfazed, “Ray was the one who told me, actually. She's coming with the Patriarch on his next visit to the Vatican, and he thought it best to know her situation to make arrangements.”
Aldo couldn't help his surprise, “A teenage girl at the Vatican?”
Giulio laughed, “Scandalized? Now you sound like Tedesco. She's hardly the first young lady to stay at the Santa Marta.”
“Not scandalized,” Aldo said grumpily, perhaps because Giulio had a point, “It's just unusual, that's all. I would have thought Tedesco would have packed her off to relatives by now.”
Giulio shrugged, “That was the original plan, I believe. I'm not sure what's changed, but it seems she'll be around at least another month until Tedesco's next trip to Rome.”
“Maybe her Italian is poor? It would make sense, coming from New York. She could be staying with Tedesco until it improves if her other relatives don't speak English.”
“She was raised in Italy.” Giulio replied skeptically, “Her parents only moved to America five years ago.”
Aldo raised an eyebrow, “Ray really did do his research.”
Giulio shrugged and picked up Aldo's newspaper, “Well, she's an oddity, at least when it comes to our dear Patriarcha. I supposed it's natural to be curious. At least we can hope it keeps him distracted enough not to cause any trouble for the time being.”