Rosanna Battigelli - Captivated By Her Italian Boss

“I’ve read stories about how some men in the South used to kidnap young ladies, take them up to a mountain cave and compromise their honor so their family would have no choice but to let them get married.”

“ Mom! Really? Are we talking about the same century?” Neve couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “I wasn’t doing anything other than smiling back. And I didn’t get the feeling he wanted to marry me,” she had added flippantly. “I don’t think you have to worry about him carrying me off.”

Her mother’s cheeks had reddened. “Neve, you are not to give him or anyone like him any attention. You’re in Italy, remember. Men are more... passionate here. You came here a virgin. I don’t want you to fall for the first Romeo that pays attention to you and let him—”

“Mom! Oh, my God!” Neve had jumped up, her face flaming. “Just stop ! Give me some credit, would you?”

She had barricaded herself in her private bathroom, ignoring her mother’s calls and halfhearted attempts to apologize. She had come out after her mother had gone, and wiping her tear-streaked eyes, she had walked to the balcony...

* * *

For the next few days Neve had been too busy with her school obligations to think much about the ad. When an email from a Mrs. Lucia Michele arrived, informing her that she was one of the applicants who could proceed to be interviewed, Neve’s heart had done a leap. She had thought it was a long shot, as there must have been hundreds of applicants, if not more, and her pulse had quickened at the thought that she might actually stand a chance of being hired.

Mrs. Michele’s email had informed Neve of the interview details. It would be conducted by her . The employer would be watching the interview privately. Due to the sensitive nature regarding the child, she had been instructed to keep the employer’s identity confidential until the chosen applicant actually arrived in person in Southern Italy.

And now here Neve was, communicating with Signora Lucia Michele, who was asking her in halting English about her philosophy of discipline. Neve felt a little self-conscious doing a Skype interview while her prospective employer watched from his computer.

Neve paused for a moment, wondering what stance “the boss” expected her to take. She looked beyond the woman, almost expecting that he—why she thought it would be a he , she didn’t know—would appear, and took a deep breath. She could only answer truthfully.

“I believe that consistency is essential in discipline,” she replied, her voice steady. “The child must know what you expect, and as a kindergarten teacher, I tell my children right at the beginning that I expect to be treated kindly, with respect, and that I will be treating them in the same manner. I make sure they know right away that A, their parents have trusted them to my care because I will keep them safe and take good care of them, and B, they will learn and have fun with me.”

She couldn’t help smiling, thinking of her school kids as they looked at her with wide eyes on the first day of school. “Those are the two main things they need to know. And then, day by day, they will learn how to interact, how to solve problems, how to be a good leader.” She looked straight at the camera. “And they will learn about consequences when they do something inappropriate. I believe in positive discipline and fairness, and flexibility when it is required...without laying a hand on the child.”

Signora Michele gave a curt nod. “And I see you have...ah...some esperienza with children who have suffered—how do you say?—oh, yes—loss?”

Neve tried to control her eyes from misting. Yes, she had experience, she replied, and bit her lip. She told the signora about the courses she had taken to help understand what children who had lost a parent through death or separation or divorce were going through. “You can’t assume that every child who enters your classroom has had a happy, cheerful childhood,” she said wistfully. “If only...” She blinked and thought of a frail-looking girl called Tessa, who had lost her mother to cancer a month before starting kindergarten.

Don’t cry , she told herself. Hold it together.

And then Signora Michele turned slightly and touched her ear. Neve spotted the hearing device that was obviously the means of communication between her and the employer.

She nodded and turned back to Neve, her face expressionless. “Thank you for your time, Signorina Wilder. You will be contacted with an answer within a day or two. There are still a few other applicants to consider... Grazie .”

Neve nodded and gave her a small smile before the woman left. She looked again right into the camera at the top of her screen, knowing the employer would be watching until the last moment. Neve stared briefly, then nodded, her eyes never faltering.

“Grazie,” she addressed the unseen employer before shutting down her laptop.

* * *

Davide Cortese’s pulse leaped. If he had entertained the smallest doubt when she had first appeared on his laptop screen in his study, after mere seconds he could no longer deny it. The interview had lasted twenty minutes or so between his assistant and the applicant, but it had taken him only a few stunned moments to realize the latter’s identity.

Neve Wilder. He hadn’t seen her name and the others in the file Lucia had prepared; he had wanted to see all the Skype interviews first. Neve was the thirteenth applicant to be interviewed by Lucia, and Davide had almost lost hope that a suitable nanny could be found for his five-year-old niece, Bianca.

His expression softened at the thought of his niece. She looked like the mirror image of her mother, his sister, Violetta. Her face still had the cherubic roundness of babyhood, but she had grown taller, even since the accident. The accident. Just those two words caused his body to freeze, just like the first time he was told by Violetta’s friend Alba that Violetta and her husband, Tristan, had skidded on an icy mountain road after their skiing weekend in Banff and had died instantly when their vehicle hit a tree.

Alba, who had been babysitting Bianca, had delivered the news tearfully by phone, and all at once Davide had felt numb, devastated, angry, sad and desperate. His only sibling, gone. She was six years his senior, and he had always looked to her for guidance growing up, especially after both their parents had died. Their father had passed first when Davide was ten, and their mother, heartbroken, had succumbed to cancer a year later.

Life had been hard enough without his gentle father around, but losing his mother so soon after was a blow that had siphoned what remained of Davide’s childhood spirit. Davide had lost his joy, his appetite, his interest in school. He had become frail, withdrawn and had often missed school.

He and Violetta had been looked after by their uncle, Zio Francesco , a priest in their town of Valdoro. Zio Francesco had told Davide when he was older about how he had begun to despair of reviving Davide’s spirit and physical health. He had wondered if bringing him out to the farm and letting Davide occupy himself with planting jobs and the tending of the animals might restore him in some way.

His uncle had wept while reciting his rosary after noticing how several days on the land had brought a change in Davide’s behavior and outlook. After a few weeks Davide had willingly returned to school, but had continued to work on the farm after school and on weekends, as well as throughout high school and in the summer when back from university.

Davide’s heart tightened. He would never forget what Zio Francesco had done for him.