A Little Piece of Paradise: A sweeping story of sisterhood, secrets and romance (Love from Italy Book 1)

by T A Williams

  The letter indicated that ‘sufficient funds’ had been deposited in a bank account, to which they would both be signatories, to pay for all the stipulated works and, most pleasing of all, he had also left enough cash to keep them ‘in comfortable style’ for the next three months. This was really good news. Sophie had been barely ticking over financially since returning from Rome and her savings had been dwindling fast, but three months rent-free and without household expenses would mean a considerable saving, even if this project went belly up and they didn’t get the castle to sell after all. She signed the agreement willingly and saw her sister do the same.

  After signing duplicate copies of the letter and returning the originals to the lawyer for safe keeping, they followed him up an imposing flight of stone stairs to Uncle George’s study. Up here on the first floor the window openings were considerably wider and the rooms far lighter – and in consequence less intimidating – than downstairs. Here, for the first time since arriving in Paradiso, Sophie began to feel emotional. Their father had died when they were both very young and Uncle George, their mother’s unmarried brother, had played a big part in their lives, despite having settled in America. Seeing his study with his chair and even a pair of reading glasses on top of a year-old copy of the Wall Street Journal suddenly brought home to Sophie that he, too, was dead, just like both her parents. There was an old photo on the desk of a smiling Uncle George with their mother and the two little girls on the beach at Perranporth where they had often holidayed together. Her eyes filled and she scrabbled in the pocket of her jeans for a tissue.

  With the help of her faithful hound who started poking her with his cold wet nose, she gradually regained control. When she finally wiped her eyes and blew her nose she was touched and secretly pleased to see her sister had been similarly afflicted. She cleared her throat and they both went across to join the lawyer at the computer where he was tactfully averting his eyes from their grief.

  ‘I’m sorry, Signor Verdi, but I was… we were very close to Uncle George, even if I hadn’t heard from him for a while. He was a lovely man and we thought of him as a sort of replacement father after the death of our dad.’

  The lawyer looked up again and nodded soberly. ‘I knew him well and I had considerable respect for him. He was indeed a good man. Such a shame.’ He checked that they were both sufficiently recovered to continue. ‘Now, if you would like to stand side-by-side in front of the screen, I will explain.’

  It was simple. First Sophie had to put her left hand on the screen, fingers splayed, and then Rachel had to place her right hand on top of Sophie’s, similarly splayed, pressing down so that the ten digits were all touching the screen together. This was the first time Sophie had had any physical contact with her sister for six years and she felt the tears stinging in the corners of her eyes again. She wondered if Rachel was similarly affected but resisted the temptation to glance across to see. Apparently oblivious – or maybe just being diplomatic – Signor Verdi carried on with his instructions.

  ‘The computer has now registered and recorded your handprints, so it’s all set. When you see the thin red line around the fan shape of your fingers on the screen change from red to green, a message will appear.’

  The screen flashed green and a note sounded on the computer. As it did so, a box appeared in the top corner:

  Day 1 registration successful. 91 days remaining.

  Signor Verdi nodded approvingly. ‘So you can see that the time and date have been recorded. Today is Tuesday the first of July. It’s imperative that you repeat this procedure every day up to and including the thirtieth of September. Including today, that adds up to a total of a ninety-two days. You can sign in at any time within each twenty-four-hour period, but it must be done. Like I told you before, I have strict instructions to inform you that missing even one day will invalidate your claim and the property will revert to other beneficiaries. If you run into any problems, you should contact me at once. Here’s my card. You can always get hold of me on my mobile. Are we clear? Good.’

  Back downstairs he passed on additional useful information before leaving. There was a man who did the garden on Thursdays and a lady who lived in the village who would come in most mornings to keep the place tidy and to look after the laundry. Once again, ‘suitable remuneration’ for both of them had already been arranged through the lawyer. The lady, Signora Morandi, would also be able to give the girls all sorts of practical information, from where to eat – Signor Verdi assured them the Vecchio Ristoro, the restaurant just across the piazza, was excellent – to medical services, refuse collection and shops. He issued them with sets of keys and the code for the Wi-Fi. An appointment had been arranged for them to meet the local bank manager the following day and to do this they could either travel there in Sophie’s car or they could use the car that Uncle George had left here in the garage.

  All in all, it sounded as though their uncle had thought of everything and Sophie was impressed – and relieved – that there was alternative transport available if her car were to give up the ghost entirely. In consequence her already strained emotions took another hit. After they had seen the lawyer out, Sophie sat down on a fine old chair in one corner of the hall and cried her eyes out all over again.

  A matter of seconds later she felt a familiar nudge of a canine nose against her thigh, accompanied by a little whine of concern. She reached out to stroke the Labrador and glanced up to see her sister standing over to one side, tears running down her cheeks as well.

  ‘He really was a lovely man, Soph.’ The tender note in Rachel’s voice did nothing to staunch the flow of tears down Sophie’s face and she just dropped her head and cried until, finally, she could cry no more. She gave Jeeves a pat on the head and stood up, searching in her pocket for her tissue again. Finally surfacing, bleary-eyed, she turned towards her sister.

  ‘I suppose I’d better bring the car in. How did you get up here?’

  ‘By taxi from the station. I flew over from Orlando to Nice yesterday and took a train to Santa Rita this morning.’

  ‘So you’re living in the States?’ This came as a bit of a surprise. Given that Rachel had been studying Spanish as well as English and had gone off to Puerto Rico, Sophie had always imagined her sister living in a Hispanic environment. Of course, thinking about it, she remembered that Spanish was widely spoken in Florida so maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

  Rachel nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her reply was curt and Sophie could see the tension on her face. Now that they were alone here, just the two of them, sooner or later they would have to sit down and talk but, for now, it didn’t look as though Rachel was in a communicative mood, although she did manage a sensible suggestion. ‘Why don’t you go and fetch your car while I see if there’s something here to drink?’

  Leaving Jeeves with Rachel, Sophie went out, struggled to open the other half of the gates, and brought her car into the courtyard, pleasantly surprised that it started first time although the noisy clatter and the smell of burning were still a worry. She tried shutting the gates afterwards but only managed to get them roughly back together. Without some oil or grease, she got the feeling locking them properly was going to take a lot more strength than she could muster after two long days in the car. She grabbed her bags from the back seat and carried them up the steps and into the castle.

  The heavy front door clunked shut behind her and she heard Rachel’s voice echoing along a corridor. She found her in the large kitchen at the rear of the property. Although as their uncle had said in his letter it badly needed a makeover, the room was clean and comfortable in a nineteen-sixties way, with beige Formica worktops and starkly functional chocolate brown units with chrome handles. Although retro was supposedly back in style, she had a feeling this colour scheme wasn’t, so she had to agree with her uncle’s assessment that it needed replacing. Rachel was standing by the big old table with two mugs of tea in front of her.

  ‘Somebody – presumably this Mrs Morandi – has s
tocked the fridge with more food than we’ll be able to eat in a week. There’s white wine and champagne in there if you prefer, but I thought as it’s still the afternoon we might do better to start with tea. Besides, I’m feeling jet-lagged so I don’t want to compound my problems with too much booze.’

  ‘Tea’s perfect, thanks.’ Sophie glanced down at her dog stretched out on the floor at Rachel’s feet. ‘I’d better give Jeeves another drink. His bowl’s in the car.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ve already given him some water and he’s drunk a fair bit.’ Rachel pointed towards a bowl half-filled with water, surrounded by drops of water all over the tiled floor.

  ‘Thanks, that was kind. Sorry, he’s such a messy drinker.’ Sophie was impressed. Steering clear of free alcohol, making tea and even thoughtful enough to give her dog a drink, this appeared to be a different Rachel from the one she had last known. She pulled out a chair and sat down, took a sip of hot tea and settled back, wondering what to use as a conversation starter.

  Chapter 3

  The conversation didn’t have a chance to start. No sooner had Sophie sat down than Rachel picked up her own mug of tea and turned for the door.

  ‘Like I said, I’m feeling zonked, so I’m going to stretch out on one of the sofas in the lounge and take a little nap.’

  And that was that.

  Sophie almost got up and followed her, eager to see the rest of the castle for herself, but she forced herself to remain seated. Rachel had been polite, but little more, and from her tone Sophie could tell she was still wary. She sat there, sipping her tea and wondering whether this was just a result of a guilty conscience or something else. After all, Rachel had gone off six years ago leaving her to look after their ailing mother without a backward glance. The only information she had gleaned so far was that Rachel had been living in the USA. Assuming they managed to cohabit for three months, half of the value of this wonderful old building would pass to her, but Sophie had no idea what her sister’s plans would be after that. Would she stay in Europe or return to the USA?

  She finished her tea and looked at her watch. It was gone half past five and she knew Jeeves deserved a decent walk in the fresh air after the long journey, so she decided to take the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and check out the garden.

  It rapidly became clear that there was far more than just a garden around the castle. As she walked out into the late afternoon air, the trees resounded to the calls of a multitude of little birds high in the branches and, beyond the trees, the land stretched onwards. The stone perimeter wall extended all the way along to the right, concealing them from the road, while the trees soon gave way to an open area of very arid lawn dotted with peach and apricot trees laden with fruit, beyond which was the unexpectedly large vineyard. The castle was situated on top of the ridge and the land was remarkably level here – and there was a lot of it. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the far end of the grounds where the stone wall turned to the left and finally stopped. The wall was replaced by new-looking wire fencing that formed a formidable barrier but allowed sweeping views over Santa Rita in the valley below.

  Strolling back towards the castle, she came to a modern galvanised iron gate part way along the fence, and from the vehicle tracks in the gravel, it occurred to her this was how the gardener gained access to the property.

  The estate – because that’s what it was – was charming and very private, and after two full days cooped up in a car, Jeeves took full advantage, charging around and barking, begging for her to throw sticks and huge pine cones for him to retrieve and bring back to drop at her feet. She let him run about for as long as he wanted before he finally returned to her side and the two of them sat down – she on a bench and the dog stretched out in the dust at her feet.

  A little while later she was just thinking about getting up again when she spotted a figure coming towards her. It was Rachel.

  ‘Soph, you need to come and see this.’ She sounded unexpectedly chirpy and Sophie jumped to her feet, as did Jeeves.

  ‘I thought you’d gone for a lie down.’

  ‘I did, but I couldn’t sleep after all. It’s a spooky old place so I came outside.’

  Sophie followed her sister back until they could just about glimpse the rear of the castle through the trees once again. Here, off to one side, there were three stone outbuildings and it was in the first of these that she saw what it was that had excited her sister’s attention. It was a large, sleek and no doubt expensive Mercedes saloon – presumably Uncle George’s car. Sophie gawped at it in awe.

  ‘Wow! You could fit my car in the boot.’

  ‘It’s gorgeous. And the lawyer said we could use it?’ Rachel’s eyes were just about bulging out of her head.

  ‘That’s what he said.’ Sophie went over and peered in through the side window. It all looked amazingly luxurious with its leather-clad interior. ‘It seems almost improper to think of Jeeves sitting on the back seat.’

  ‘He’s a good boy. I’m sure he’ll behave.’

  They were still ogling the car when a few minutes later they were surprised by a sudden short sharp woof from Jeeves and the sound of a male voice from behind them.

  ‘Excuse me, ladies, but I thought I’d better come and introduce myself. My name’s Dan.’

  They both swung round in astonishment. The man was speaking in fluent English. He even had a soft American accent. More amazing was the fact that he was very good-looking and even more amazing was the fact that Sophie noticed. After her experiences with Claudio she had had very little interest in members of the other sex over the past twelve months. Such was her surprise, she actually took a step backwards, bumping into the wing mirror and banging her funny bone. Suppressing an expletive, she gave the man a welcoming smile, noticing out of the corner of her eye that her sister was also beaming at him.

  ‘Hello, Dan. I’m Sophie Elliot, and this is Rachel. We’re sisters.’

  ‘I can see the family resemblance. You must be George’s nieces. He often spoke about you.’

  While he was speaking, Sophie took a better look at him. He was tall, with close-cropped fair hair and a stubbly chin. His shoulders were broad and he looked fit. He was wearing shorts and a faded T-shirt that bore the vestiges of a Harley Davidson logo on the front, and he looked very appealing. Sophie was almost annoyed at the unexpected ignition of a spark of attraction inside her. She soon discovered that she wasn’t the only one to find him attractive.

  ‘Hi, Dan, is that an East Coast accent I can hear?’ Rachel was looking especially pleased to see him.

  ‘It is. How did you work that out?’ By this time Jeeves had also decided that the tall American was a friend and was standing up on his back legs, scrabbling at him with his paws while Dan fondled his ears. From the expression on Rachel’s face she probably wouldn’t have minded having her own ears – or more – fondled by him and Sophie saw her smile broaden even more.

  ‘I recognise the accent because I live in the States. I’ve been living in Orlando for the past five years. Where’s home for you?’

  ‘Cambridge, Massachusetts, although I’m from New York originally.’

  ‘So how come somebody from the United States has ended up here, Dan?’ Sophie wondered if he was the gardener. And if he wasn’t, how was it he was wandering about on private property?

  ‘It’s a bit complicated, sort of a busman’s holiday, a mixture of work and leisure. I’m here on an extended summer vacation – it’s like a mini sabbatical. I teach history at Harvard and I’m trying to finish writing a book. Nothing too exciting: a historical treatise on the influence of the so-called Saracen raids on the Mediterranean coastline in the Middle Ages.’ He gave them a wink. ‘It isn’t likely to be a blockbuster. Anyway, George gave me a key to the gate back there and I’ve been keeping an eye on the castle since he passed away. I was walking up the track and I heard voices, so I thought I’d better check you weren’t thieves about to drive off in the Merc.’

&
nbsp; ‘Well, thank you very much. Is it you we have to thank for the beautiful flowerbeds?’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s all down to Beppe. He does the garden. He comes in every Thursday.’

  ‘So you knew Uncle George well?’

  ‘We were good friends. I’ve known him for years. When he heard I was looking for somewhere to live along this part of the Ligurian coast for a few months, he told me about a house to rent just back along that way.’ He waved in the direction from which he had come. ‘He was a good guy and I was very sorry he died.’ Looking back at them again he addressed himself to both of them. ‘So how long are you staying?’

  Rachel answered immediately. ‘Till the end of September.’

  Sophie saw what might have been interest on his face. ‘That’s pretty much the same as me. I arrived a month or so ago and I’m planning on staying until early October before I have to go back to work. That should give us time to get acquainted.’

  ‘And where did you say you lived, Dan?’ Rachel was hanging on his every word.

  He waved back towards the vineyard again. ‘About a half mile that way. I’m in the stone house by the top hairpin bend. You can’t miss it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get off. I’m sure I’ll see you around.’

  He headed back towards the side gate and both girls found themselves watching his retreating back. Sophie gave a tiny little internal sigh. With his broad shoulders and strong tanned legs, she couldn’t deny that he did look good.

  ‘Blimey, Soph, I think I’m in love… or at least lust.’ Rachel kept her voice low but there was no hiding the feeling in her tone. ‘What a hunk!’

  For a moment, Sophie was reminded of all the times in their teens, and even in Rachel’s first year at university when Sophie had been in her final year, when they had fallen out over random boyfriends. Time and time again Rachel, with her short skirts, cheeky grin and buoyant self-confidence had ended up the victor. Now they were almost ten years older, would history repeat itself? No sooner did the thought cross Sophie’s mind than she did her best to dismiss it. First, he was American and he was going to disappear back to the States in the autumn and, second, she had already announced to the world in general – or at least to Chris and a few other close friends – that she had no interest in hooking up with another man any time soon. Most importantly, however, although she and her sister might have been lusting after Dan, he had given no sign of reciprocating their interest. Rather than respond, she decided to change the subject.