Three days had passed since Isabella's emotional awakening and the difficult conversation about Giovanni’s burial. She was recovering with astonishing speed, demanding to be moved from the sterile medical suite to the light-filled main bedroom, where she could at least look out over the snow-covered grounds and feel less confined. She was sitting up now, leaning against the pillows, her movements still slow, but imbued with the determined resilience that I loved.

The twins were a frequent, ...