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

by T A Williams

  It came as a positive relief to Sophie when they drove Paola down to the station in time for her three o’clock train back to Milan. After waving her goodbye and thanking her again for her expert discoveries – if not her personal revelations – Sophie climbed into the passenger seat alongside Rachel who was driving. Jeeves leant over from the back seat and nuzzled her ear. Sophie turned to scratch his nose and did her best to put a brave face on things.

  ‘Nice lady.’

  Rachel was smiling broadly. ‘With impeccable taste in men. Sounds like August in the Pyrenees is going to turn into Sodom and Gomorrah. Something tells me you should get a move on, sis, before Paola sinks her immaculate red claws into Chris.’

  The same thought had been swirling around inside Sophie’s head since lunch, but she knew her limitations.

  ‘I know when I’m outgunned, Rach. Look at her: she’s gorgeous, she dresses like something out of Vogue, and she speaks the same nerdy antiques language he does. I don’t stand a chance in comparison.’

  ‘Don’t be such a defeatist. You look great, you’re every bit as bright as Paola and you’ve got a head start in that you and Chris go way back. You know each other so well already.’

  ‘Maybe that’s a problem rather than an advantage. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that.’

  ‘I don’t see it. Like I say, don’t do yourself down.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve always had a way with people, with men, while I’ve struggled.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. You managed to land yourself the most desirable man in Rome.’

  ‘Me and God knows how many other women.’

  ‘Rubbish, if you want Chris, you just need to go for it. If it had been me, I’d have grabbed him and snogged him when he was here at the weekend. That way you’d have found out straightaway how he felt about you.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re you and I’m me.’

  ‘Well, couldn’t you at least have just told him straight out how you feel? I would have done.’

  Sophie hung her head. ‘You’re right, I know you’re right, but I lost my nerve… or something like that. I feel so silly, looking back. The problem now is how and when I can see him again before he heads for the Pyrenees.’

  The more she thought about it, the more complicated it became. Was he going to come back over to Paradiso? Her problem – and it was a big one – was that, if he couldn’t come over here, the only way she could go over to the UK to see him would have to be a day trip, flying there and back within twenty-four hours with only a very short time to see him and talk, because of Uncle George’s pesky stipulation that she and Rachel needed to sign in together from the study every day. She took a deep breath, quite sure what she needed right now.

  ‘I need the world’s biggest ice cream. Feel like keeping me company?’

  Her ice cream might not have made it into the Guinness Book of Records but it was mightily impressive all the same. The monstrosity that arrived, labelled by the ice cream cafe under the arches in the town centre as Montagna Gelata, contained at least ten, maybe a dozen, scoops of multiple flavours of delicious homemade ice cream, smothered in whipped cream and drizzled with raspberry syrup and caramel. The waiter reverently set it down on the table, along with a more modest-sized serving for Rachel, and even Jeeves looked taken aback. The waiter straightened up and gave Sophie a smile – she couldn’t tell if it was as encouragement or commiseration.

  ‘Buona fortuna.’

  ‘Wow, Soph, if that doesn’t sort you out, I don’t know what will.’

  Sophie began to work her way systematically through the mountain of ice cream and did her best to think rationally. Chris, her best friend, had a very suitable and very beautiful woman on his trail and maybe this was the woman he had indicated as somebody he fancied. From what Paola had said, she had little doubt that the company jaunt to the Pyrenees would inevitably result in his conquest – with or without persuasion – and she knew she had to act fast to pre-empt Paola’s plans. Her sister was evidently thinking along similar lines.

  ‘You’ve got to get him back over here before the company retreat and have it out with him, one way or another. When’s the trip to the mountains taking place?’

  ‘August.’ Sophie’s mouth was crammed full of ice cream and she had to take a mouthful of water and swallow hard before carrying on. ‘Stupidly, I didn’t ask the exact dates, and August starts in two days’ time so I suppose it could be as soon as this coming weekend or, hopefully, not for a few weeks.’

  ‘Well, that’s easy to find out. Phone Chris and ask him.’

  To give herself time to think, Sophie scooped up a spoonful of caramel and meringue ice cream with what looked like half a glacé cherry buried in the whipped cream on top of it. ‘You’re right. I can do that easily. After all, he’ll be expecting me to call him to let him know what Paola said about the valuations.’ Not without difficulty, she manoeuvred the heaped spoonful into her mouth where it gradually began to melt. As she did so, Rachel pulled a paper serviette out of the container on the table and reached across to wipe a splodge of cream off the end of Sophie’s nose.

  ‘Why not call him now? Strike while the iron’s hot and all that.’

  Sophie, unable to speak for the moment, just nodded. Rachel was right. That was the best thing to do. Or was it? She swallowed her mouthful and voiced her fears.

  ‘I’ll text him and get him to call me when he can, just in case he’s in a meeting or something. The thing is, though, I don’t want to get him to come rushing back over here just for him to tell me he fancies somebody else. And don’t forget that I just think I fancy him at the moment. We haven’t even kissed yet. What if he kisses me and it feels weird?’

  ‘I understand that, but you’ve got to find out one way or another as soon as possible. You can’t run the risk of letting him go to the company training week where, as sure as eggs is eggs, he’ll end up in Paola’s clutches.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t come here before the Pyrenees, what then?’

  ‘Then, Soph, it’ll all be in the lap of the gods.’

  Chapter 17

  The gods emerged victorious.

  To Sophie’s intense frustration, when Chris phoned her back later that afternoon in response to her text he informed her the company retreat was going to start in less than two weeks’ time and he was up to his eyes with work – including four days in Scandinavia – and unable to come back to Paradiso even for a day. Even worse, almost immediately after the week in the Pyrenees he would be flying off to the USA and Canada for a series of big antiques conventions and wouldn’t be back in Europe until early September. Regretfully, she agreed a provisional date towards the end of September for him to come and visit again but she knew, deep down in her heart, that it might well be too late by then.

  She toyed with the idea of calling him back to suggest a brief meeting in London one day the following week – which would involve her jumping on one plane and then flying straight back almost immediately – but finally abandoned it. The time they would have together would be impossibly brief and with the additional danger of potentially ruining their friendship if she just blurted it out and it transpired that he didn’t see her in a romantic way. She felt she just couldn’t take the risk of screwing up their current relationship. In consequence, all she could do was to hope that things wouldn’t go the way Paola intended at the mountain retreat, and did her best to dismiss him from her mind. This was far easier said than done, but at least she had other things to occupy her.

  First, there were her regular short stories to write and then there was her book.

  A direct result of this mess with Chris and the frustrating position in which she found herself was the discovery that it did at least stimulate her creative juices. Her next short story featured a love triangle with two suitors competing for the hand of one indecisive woman – who almost ended up losing both – while the one after that was a story of two lovers, separated by their jobs in different c
ountries. As for her book, one evening the elusive first line for her book suddenly came to her and she hurried down to tell Rachel.

  ‘I’ve got it. How about starting my novel with this? “Beatrice sighed as she leant on the battlements and stared out into the night sky. All her high hopes had come crashing down and she felt desperately alone.” How does that grab you?’

  ‘I like the idea of starting the book with what sounds almost like the conclusion, making the reader curious to read on to discover what’s gone wrong. And Beatrice is a great name for a romantic heroine.’ Rachel hesitated. ‘There’s just one thing. This isn’t going to be autobiographical, is it? I’d hate to think you were feeling desperately alone with your hopes crushed. Try not to worry too much about this Chris thing. It’ll sort itself out and, if it doesn’t, you’re a clever, attractive, soon-to-be very rich woman and you’ll easily fix yourself up with a replacement.’

  Sophie shook her head, although without much conviction. ‘No, of course it’s not going to be about me. As for Chris and what might or might not happen, I know I’ll be fine. I’ve got Jeeves and I’ve got you, remember.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. And besides, you and I are in the same boat, after all. I’m not seeing anybody at the moment, but I know that sooner or later I’ll find someone new and it’ll work itself out.’

  Sophie paused. Might this be the opportunity she’d been waiting for to find out what exactly had happened between her sister and her ex? ‘Rach, on that subject, do you feel like telling me what happened between you and your boyfriend a few months back? You said you’d done something stupid but that it wasn’t what I thought. So I’m assuming you didn’t leap into bed with some other man, but what could you have done to cause the break-up of the relationship after, what, two years?’

  ‘Two and a half, almost three.’ Rachel sighed. ‘The stupidity on my part was to believe the lies of Donna, a woman I thought was my friend. She and I met up for a drink and a chat one evening after work and she told me she’d seen Gabriel with another woman, and stupidly I swallowed the story hook, line and sinker. I charged back home and started screaming and shouting at him – in my defence I had had a few drinks by this point – and he just clammed up and left without a backward glance. I only found out a couple of days before coming over here last month that the story was all made up. Another friend set me straight. It turns out Donna wanted Gabriel for herself and she was prepared to do anything to get him, including sabotaging my relationship with him and destroying her friendship with me, and I fell for it.’ She raised her eyes towards Sophie. ‘Like I say, pretty stupid, right?’

  ‘So now you know it wasn’t true, would you like him back?’

  ‘It’s not a question of me wanting him. I imagine he doesn’t want anything to do with me after such a blatant lack of trust. You know me – I do have a tendency to fly off the handle a bit too easily. No, however much I might like him back, I’m sure he doesn’t even want to hear my name.’

  ‘And did he get together with this Donna woman?’

  ‘From what I’ve heard, no.’

  Rachel looked so down that Sophie couldn’t resist reaching over and giving her hand a supportive squeeze.

  ‘Tell me about Gabriel. Who is he? Why did you fall for him in the first place?’

  Rachel paused for thought. ‘He’s an attorney. I met him at a party and we just hit it off. In many ways, he’s not my type. No bulging muscles, no movie star looks, no sports car, no amazing moves on the dance floor; he’s just a very caring sort of guy and I felt comfortable around him from the start. He has a firm sense of right and wrong – he specialises in human rights cases – and that’s why I know my lack of trust must have cut him to the quick.’

  ‘And he’s from Florida?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a partner in a law firm in Orlando – Anderson, Cooper and Gomez. He’s Cooper.’

  ‘He sounds like a good guy. I think you should get in touch. Three years together is a hell of a lot to throw away. I know – I was with Claudio for about that length of time.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s it, isn’t it? You were with Claudio for years but you’d never take him back after what he did to you. I just know that Gabriel must feel the same way about me.’

  ‘Rach, there’s a big difference between you making a wrong assumption and Claudio sleeping with half of Rome. Why don’t you give it a try? Contact him. Go on, I would if it had happened to me.’

  But Rachel refused to follow her advice. Clearly, she had made up her mind that there was no point in trying to crawl back just to be slapped down again. Sophie made another few attempts to get her to see reason, but they were all met with stone wall determination so, in the end, she let the subject drop. At least she now knew more about her sister, which was progress as far as relations between the two of them were concerned.

  Armed with her first line, she now returned her attention to her novel and, at last, the words began to flow, but before she could throw herself fully into her new project, there was a more urgent one to be sorted out. She needed to find a builder. Beppe had suggested several and she had been contacting them over the past weeks but, as Signor Verdi had warned, they all turned out to be either fully booked or on holiday for the whole of August, if not longer. She was beginning to get desperate when Rita came up with a fine solution.

  ‘My brother retired last year. He was a builder, and a good one as well. He might be prepared to do it if it isn’t too hard for him. And if he can’t, he might know somebody who can. Would you like me to have a word with him?’

  Sophie was so grateful she almost kissed her, and when Rita’s brother confirmed that he would come round that very afternoon to take a look she did catch hold of her and kiss her warmly on the cheeks.

  When she wasn’t writing, the other job to which both she and Rachel applied themselves was cleaning and pricing the items that would go on sale at the antiques fair at the end of August. Pricing involved scouring the internet for similar items for sale and taking those prices as a rough guide, minus a healthy discount in the hope of selling as many of them as possible. Gradually the pile of gleaming old bits and pieces, each with a neat price tag, started to grow.

  And finally, there was the small matter of eight Spaniards due to descend upon them in two weeks’ time. Fortunately it looked as though there would be just enough bedrooms for all. Rachel reckoned the group would consist of two couples and four individuals so, including their two rooms, that meant that all eight bedrooms would be occupied. They both gave Rita a hand to start getting everything ready and were mildly surprised to find that she was positively relishing the challenge.

  ‘Your uncle often used to entertain people when he came here. We’ve had members of parliament, film stars and even a Nobel Prize winner. It’ll be just like old times.’

  Rita’s brother, Giorgio, declared himself more than prepared to do the remedial building works and started almost immediately. Needless to say, this created considerable dust and disruption for Rita but she obviously had years of practice getting him to obey her orders and by the end of the following week, a matter of hours before the arrival of the Spaniards – or S-Day as Sophie referred to it – he had done it all: the lead work on the roof, the chimneys, the broken arches, and a few other bits and pieces he had spotted as he went along.

  When S-Day Saturday dawned and Sophie returned from an early morning walk around the estate with Jeeves, she felt confident that they would be able cope with the influx. Rachel was still in bed – probably a wise precaution before what would be a long day – but Sophie didn’t feel tired so, as the Spanish contingent were supposed to be arriving in the late afternoon, she decided to go for a longer walk that morning, before it got too hot. With eight guests to look after she wasn’t sure when the next opportunity to take the dog out for a few hours would present itself. On impulse, she sent a text message to Dan, asking if he felt like keeping her company, and by the time she had emerged from the shower, he had replied, suggesting
a route. This involved driving up into the hills for half an hour or so and then hiking up to a ruined tower which interested him for his book. Because she had Jeeves, she offered to pick him up in her old car which hadn’t been getting much use recently.

  Seeing him again immediately brightened her day and it occurred to her that as time passed, Chris might soon be in danger of having a rival for his best friend status with her. She hadn’t seen Dan for a few days and she wondered if he had been away again. It turned out that he had been in Genoa and Pisa, studying documents at the university libraries, and had only got back last night. She told him all about the building works, her breakthrough with her book and the impending arrival of the Spaniards. She stopped short, however, of mentioning Chris and the Pyrenean retreat and Paola’s interest in him.

  Following his directions, she turned right at the bottom of the hill and headed inland. Before long the suburbs of Santa Rita gave way to open fields, rows of greenhouses and polytunnels. They passed through a decidedly more agricultural area before starting to climb into the first foothills of the Ligurian Apennines. The vegetation changed rapidly from cultivated fields to native woodland and they were soon driving up ever-steeper inclines into thick deciduous forest. According to Beppe, these woods were rich in porcini mushrooms and, although the season had yet to get going properly, they kept coming upon empty cars parked here and there by the roadside, no doubt belonging to hopeful mushroom hunters in search of these valuable prizes. After twenty more minutes of climbing, they reached a spot where the ground levelled out into a little car park and Dan indicated they should stop.

  When she got out of the car Sophie immediately felt the difference in temperature. It wasn’t cold, but there was probably a difference of at least ten degrees between here and the coast and she almost wished she had brought a jumper. Reading her mind, Dan tapped her on her arm and pointed over her shoulder.