Romy Sommer - Last of the Summer Vines - Escape to Italy with this heartwarming, feel good summer read!

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse

an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Romy Sommer 2018

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2018

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Romy Sommer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008301149

Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008301132

Version: 2018-06-06

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018 Copyright © Romy Sommer 2018 Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2018 Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com Romy Sommer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008301149 Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008301132 Version: 2018-06-06

Dedication This book is dedicated to my mother, who contributed hugely to this novel by keeping the household fed and clean, and who helped me research by sharing with me many bottles (and boxes) of wine. Also to my daughters, for giving me time and space to write, and for understanding when I am grumpy from lack of sleep – and for telling me that I should ‘volow my hart’. Finally, I dedicate this book to all those people who devote their lives to making wine: you often make life worth living.

Epigraph What is the fatal charm of Italy? What do we find there that can be found nowhere else? I believe it’s a certain permission to be human, which other places, other countries, lost long ago. – Erica Jong

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Keep Reading …

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

This book is dedicated to my mother, who contributed hugely to this novel by keeping the household fed and clean, and who helped me research by sharing with me many bottles (and boxes) of wine.

Also to my daughters, for giving me time and space to write, and for understanding when I am grumpy from lack of sleep – and for telling me that I should ‘volow my hart’.

Finally, I dedicate this book to all those people who devote their lives to making wine: you often make life worth living.

What is the fatal charm of Italy? What do we find there that can be found nowhere else? I believe it’s a certain permission to be human, which other places, other countries, lost long ago.

– Erica Jong

Chi lascia la via vecchia per la nuova sa quel che lascia ma non sa quel che trova

(Those who leave the old ways behind know what they’re leaving, but not what they’ll find)

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Heavy, warm air filled my lungs, tasting of full-blown summer though back in England spring had barely sprung. After the crisp chill of London, the rich scents carried on the breeze were strangely soporific.

‘You don’t want air con?’ the taxi driver asked, his deeply offended tone suggesting he’d prefer air con to fresh farm air.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes again. But I didn’t close the car window. Since I was paying premium price for this trip halfway across Tuscany, I’d darn well keep the window open if I wanted. I breathed in deeply again, this time not to smell the figurative roses but to calm myself. Breathe in. Count to three. Relax.

It was unbelievable that I was only now learning to recognise the signs of stress in my body and how to deal with it. Too many years driving myself to achieve. Too many years of not taking the time to listen to my own body. All those years focused on a single target, and where did it get me? Exile.

If only I’d gone a little easier on myself. If only I’d taken a holiday once a year like everyone else, instead of clapping myself on the back for my dedication. If only I’d made a priority of a few more hours’ sleep each night, maybe now I wouldn’t be forced to cool my heels here in the middle of nowhere.

Already bored of ‘if onlys’, I slid my mobile out my handbag and glanced at the screen. No missed calls. Not even a text message. Surely someone at the office would have tried to reach me by now. They’d had the big meeting with the CFO of the Delta Corporation this morning. Wouldn’t Cleo at least have let me know how it went?

Breathe in. Count to three. Relax.

On the plus side, I was really lucky I hadn’t been fired. I’d made such a stupid mistake. A stupid, expensive mistake, the kind that required a great deal of grovelling to fix. I’d done all the grovelling I could, but the rest of my team were still having to pick up the slack.