Karen Aldous - Under a Tuscan Sky

Gabriella pushed the plate of antipasto bruschetta in front of her. ‘I know you will do all you can. It’s just that I can’t imagine living and working anywhere else, not after almost forty years. Why don’t you spend some time here in Italy? We will do everything to help you. There are …’ Again Gabriella paused, sliding her fingers along her collar. ‘We will make it big family farm. Your nonna has meant for that.’ She slid down her hand down and rested it on her heart.

‘Thank you. You’ve been so loyal to Nonna. Of course she would want you here. In fact, there may be something in the legal pack. I don’t know until I go to see the lawyer. Mum said I should be able to meet up with him next week. Meanwhile, the property agent …’ she checked her watch ‘… who should be here soon actually, has a couple of people waiting to see it. Naturally, we need someone who will put their heart and soul into it, and, of course, have money to spend on the villa to renovate it and make it more habitable. I don’t know why Nonna didn’t spend more on her own comforts – maybe she didn’t have the money.’

Gabriella glared at her, alarmed, then poured fresh coffee from the percolator. ‘Elena, your nonna, wanted it that way. She was comforted by familiar things: her family and her memories of Angelo. He was her life, what with …’ She paused momentarily in silent thought. ‘You know your nonna would have loved you to have lived with her. She loved you so much and … I … although I don’t agree with her method, she had her reasons for making you her benefactor.’

Sensing Gabriella’s unease and agitation Olivia only hoped it was possible to help her and Nico. She understood, but she wasn’t totally convinced she had the power to enforce the rules, though she would certainly try.

‘I will do all I can. I promise.’

Olivia’s phone rang and she reached into her handbag.

‘Signor Ricci, yes. Very well, thank you. Yes. I’ve just arrived. I’m just coming. Oh, yes, Monday is fine. Yes, ten-thirty. Mr St. James, eleven, OK. Thank you.’ She pulled the phone away from her ear, then pushed it back again as the voice on the other end continued. ‘Yes, I remembered twelve-thirty. Signor Mas … You’d better spell that. Ah, Marcheschi. Thank you. Yes. Ciao.’

Her mouth felt suddenly dry. The responsibility was all on her to find the right buyers, and she hadn’t had a chance to spruce the house up yet. She needed to ask the right questions. She had two already and had also agreed to time with Alberto tomorrow. Breathing out a small sigh, she placed the phone in her bag. If she worked really hard, she still had Sunday to give the house an airing and make it presentable.

Nothing but several thousand euros was going to make too much of a difference to its appearance, but she certainly wasn’t prepared to do that. It had been a shock to discover the task Nonna had laden her with just a few weeks ago, and it was the reason she had felt the need to put the villa and business straight on the market.

It was far too much for her to handle. The price of it had surprised her too. She had completely underestimated what her Italian grandparents had here. She took her phone back out and swiped the screen, adding the details to her ‘Viewers list’, slowly entering the spelling of the name correctly.

Olivia glanced over at Gabriella who gazed at her with suspicion. She felt her body stiffen as she wondered if Gabriella really trusted her to do the right thing. How could she know what was right? There was nobody to ask.

‘Well, he’s coming along on Monday instead before the viewings on that day. I’d better get started,’ she told Gabriella, gathering her bags and feeling only able to empathize. There wasn’t much more she could do or offer to secure the couple’s future. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she told Gabriella and, lifting her chin, she marched out of the courtyard towards Nonna’s villa.

She couldn’t allow emotion to dictate, nor feel intimidated. She would at least look like she was confident about managing her nonna’s affairs, even if she didn’t feel it. With any luck it wouldn’t take long. If you believed the media, hundreds of people would love to own a vineyard in Tuscany. She only had to find the right one and pray they retained the staff. Nonna seriously hadn’t thought this through – that much she knew. She should have left it to someone capable.

‘Yes, and just ask me. I am happy to help.’

Still feeling wretched as she unlocked the door, Olivia placed her bags on a bench and, after scanning the darkness of the hall, headed for the main sitting room. The stale air immediately wafted up her nose, shocking her into opening shutters and windows, to allow the air and light to flood into the soulless room.

It had been neglected since her nonna’s demise, which was terribly sad. Barely anything touched since she’d left it, four weeks ago, soon after her grandmother’s funeral. For as long as she could remember, Nonna had lived in just the ground-floor rooms of the large villa, whilst she was virtually running a sizeable empire up in these Tuscan hills. She’d run the farm and the vineyards on her own for years since Nonno died – with staff, of course, and managing to keep up with much of the technology.

With Gabriella’s help, Nonna had made sure the accommodation had a professional website and an email address for bookings, as well as the telephone. Nonna had also told her they were on travel sites so that reviews and bookings were twenty-four seven. Olivia was in total awe that her nonna knew so much about it all.

Her eyes rested on Nonna’s old leather chair. It was still covered with a red chequered shawl and two cotton-canvas cushions, and it sat forlorn by the fireplace appearing sulky without its occupant. Behind it was the beautiful bridal chest or cassone , which was Nonna’s pride and joy. Every visitor was told the story of her family’s chest. How her great-great-grandfather had created intricate carvings for each panel. It was very special to her.

Olivia sat on the arm of the chair. Crossing her legs and wrapping her arm around the wing, she breathed a sigh. ‘Oh, Nonna, what am I meant to do? There’s the business that, in all honesty, goes way over my head. As much as I want to make sure Gabriella and Nico remain secure, it’s too much. I have a business and home in England. I just couldn’t cope with both. And, this man Alberto? Nonna, I can’t think straight. I mean, what happened today? Where did he come from? He was so … I don’t know how to say it in words. It was here.’ She clutched her stomach.

‘Immediately I loved his eyes, even though he wears glasses. And he has this geeky look, but his pheromones ate right into my skin. But – and this is the problem – I don’t know if I’m doing right by jumping from one relationship to another so quickly. I’ve always done it. Not feeling like this of course, no, this is quite different; but I hate that I just need to feel loved without ever really feeling it back. And I was so determined to actually experience total independence.’

She buried her face in the arm of the chair for several seconds, squeezing her brow and equating herself to some mad person talking to herself. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

Sitting upright, she stared down at the seat for several seconds as if waiting for an answer. She peered to the other side of the chair. The inglenook still contained ashes from a fire. The beam above held layers of dust, along with several photographs of Angelo; one of her mother, Roz; and two figurines: a couple dancing and an old man wearing a sunhat. Was that Angelo too? she wondered.

At one end was a photo of them both in a gilt frame. Love emanated from their faces. Her mind flashed to Alberto’s face, and the moment of intense yearning between them. She took the frame in her hand and squatted on the hearth. A brush and poker lay flat in front of a woodpile and the rug was speckled with ash and slithers of wood.