The Lemon Tree Hotel

by Rosanna Ley

  Isabella wriggled under his scrutiny. ‘I see.’ She could move away of course – but she didn’t.

  ‘I didn’t expect to find you here, Isabella.’ He smoothed her hair from her face. ‘I didn’t expect there to be such . . .’ he hesitated ‘. . . such a complication.’

  ‘A complication?’ She’d heard more flattering descriptions. But she was trying to understand.

  He held her face in his hands and he kissed her – a long, deep kiss that seemed to travel far inside her, twist in her belly, and liquefy into desire. Mamma mia . . .

  ‘In a day or two I will leave,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘But I will come back.’

  Would he? Could she take that risk? Isabella slipped her hands under his shirt and around his waist, feeling the warmth of his flat belly, the ridges of his back, the knobs of his spine. Slowly, she brought her hands back, undid the buttons of his shirt, one by one, starting at the neck, not taking her eyes from his.

  ‘Isabella,’ he murmured. The sadness was in his eyes now too. She wanted to change that. She wanted to make it better.

  She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, her palms on his warm skin.

  He bent his head, let out a small groan, and she pulled him closer to her breast.

  Her hands dipped lower to the waistband of his jeans. She fought with the buckle.

  He raised his head to look at her. ‘Are you sure you want this, Isabella?’

  She nodded. Their breath was growing faster, more urgent. She pulled the buckle free and slipped her hands lower.

  He paused, his hands under her blouse now, but stopping short of her breasts. His eyes as he looked at her were dark and hungry. ‘Really sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed. She pushed the secrets to the back of her mind. ‘Yes, Ferdinand, I’m sure.’

  CHAPTER 36

  Chiara

  Alonzo turned up the following morning as Chiara had guessed he would. He wasn’t the type of man to take no for an answer, certainly not the type of man to be told he couldn’t come home.

  He came into the office. Fortunately, she was alone. ‘Chiara,’ he said sternly, ‘we need to talk.’

  ‘Very well.’ She mustered all the dignity she could. ‘Let’s go to our rooms.’ This was not going to be a public occasion. She was going to remain calm – she only hoped that Alonzo would do the same.

  Once inside, with the door closed, he turned to her. ‘So – have you had enough time now to think things over?’

  Chiara had had more than enough. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and I can’t see any way forward for us, Alonzo.’ She had thought and thought. ‘The distance between us has grown too wide.’ Because it wasn’t just the violence or the way he ran his business in Pisa. It wasn’t just his lack of compassion and integrity, or the fact that she did not love him as a wife should. Neither was it Dante and the way she felt about him. It was everything. She had thought she could keep her promise to Elene, but the only way she could do that would be to betray everything she believed in – and that was one step too far. Her recent discovery had tipped her over the edge. She could not stay married to this man and retain one small grain of self-respect.

  You should be proud of what you have done here, Dante had told her. You have achieved so much. And she was. She had. But . . . It was one thing to stay with Alonzo after he had slapped her – one could say she had pushed him; she had been with Dante after all, and crucially, it was only Chiara who was being hurt. But it was quite another thing to stay with him now, knowing what she knew. She was deeply ashamed. And so. ‘Our marriage is over,’ she told him.

  He laughed. ‘What there was left of it, hmm?’

  ‘What there was left of it,’ she agreed. But it was no laughing matter. Somehow, she had to explain this to Elene. Somehow, she had to live with the knowledge that she had let her down – again.

  He turned away, then back to her. Raised an eyebrow. ‘And Elene?’ He knew her so well. He knew which buttons to press, where her guilt would always lie.

  Chiara tried not to let her shoulders slump. ‘I’ll talk to her.’

  He frowned.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry.’ She kept her voice level. ‘I won’t tell her about what goes on in Pisa – that’s your affair, as you pointed out. And I won’t tell her—’ She put a hand to her face, touched her cheek. Not for his sake – but for Elene’s. She didn’t want to be the one who made Elene think badly of her father. Let her keep her love for him, her belief in him; Chiara didn’t want her to be hurt any more.

  ‘Elene will be devastated,’ he said. And to his credit, Chiara could see that this affected him deeply. Elene was his one soft spot perhaps; his love for her a redeeming factor in all this.

  She bowed her head. ‘But we can’t keep using our grown-up daughter as the only reason for staying together,’ she said gently. She had done all she could for Elene. Now, she must let it go. They might never be close, but neither would they be close if Chiara chose to continue living such a whopping and unacceptable lie.

  ‘Of course, I know the real reason for your sudden morality.’ Alonzo walked over to the window and stared out at the olive grove.

  Chiara tensed. She knew he wasn’t the kind of man to accept this without a fight. ‘The real reason?’ she echoed.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ he said. ‘This has all happened since Dante Rossi tried to force his way back into our lives.’

  Chiara remained silent. She watched him. Where was he going with this?

  ‘Pisa is your excuse.’ He turned around to face her once more, his eyes cold.

  Chiara wondered how she could ever have thought they might grow to love one another. She was only just acknowledging quite how far they had grown apart.

  ‘My business dealings, the way I lead my life, are your excuses. But I know better.’

  ‘It’s not just one thing, you’re right.’ She kept her bearing erect and still. ‘It’s many things. What point is there staying together when there’s no love between us?’ It was an appeal to his better judgement. Forget your pride. Let it go.

  He took a step closer to her, then another. ‘It’s him,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it?’

  But even if he was right, even if her feelings for Dante, suppressed for forty years, had been the trigger . . . Alonzo was responsible for his own actions – as human beings they all were. ‘It’s everything,’ she insisted.

  ‘Everything, hmm.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘Very well, have it your own way.’

  Chiara blinked at him. Was he giving in so easily? It seemed unlikely.

  ‘But if our marriage is over, then I shall expect some compensation, my dear.’

  ‘Compensation?’

  He clicked his tongue. ‘Really, Chiara, you are supposed to be a business woman, are you not? Financial compensation for the funding my parents put into The Lemon Tree Hotel.’

  ‘But that was before we married.’ She stared at him.

  ‘Oh, I think we both know the nature of their deal, do we not?’ He was smiling now. ‘You could even call it a dowry I suppose – though that seems a little old-fashioned. But then – our parents were old-fashioned, as we both know.’

  Chiara’s mind went into overdrive. Of course, he had a point. Their parents had shared a deep and strong friendship – which was why Alonzo’s parents had invested in the hotel. And in a way their marriage had been part of it. She thought quickly. Just how much was he talking about? If she knew Alonzo, it would be a lot. ‘And Elene?’ she demanded. ‘And Isabella?’

  He shrugged. ‘What do they have to do with it?’

  ‘It’s their inheritance.’ What was he thinking of? If he destroyed The Lemon Tree – or even tried to – then he destroyed his own family. ‘Would you take that away from them too?’

  He seemed to be considering this. ‘The hotel could afford some compensation,’ he said smoothly. ‘I have to live.’

  ‘You have your own business interests, Alonzo,’ she reminded him. ‘Can you not make a living fro
m them?’ Though it was hard to keep the sarcasm from her voice. ‘They are not at risk surely? Unless there is . . .’ she hesitated as an idea occurred to her. Because she didn’t want to let him have any part of The Lemon Tree Hotel. His parents had put in the money yes, but in all the years they’d been married, Alonzo had given the place almost no support . . . ‘some chance of exposure.’

  ‘Exposure?’ He shot her a quick glance.

  Now it was her turn to shrug. ‘If you understand my meaning,’ she said softly.

  ‘Why you—’

  ‘Alonzo.’ She put up her hand. She had been ready for the moment in which he would lose his cool. And she wouldn’t have threatened him – if he hadn’t threatened her hotel, her family. ‘I don’t think it would be such a good idea to hit me again.’

  He hesitated.

  ‘You should leave,’ she told him. ‘You should talk to Elene, you should get some things together, and you should leave. You are a father and a grandfather as well as a businessman, you know.’

  It was hard for Alonzo to lose face, she knew that. But she also knew that she had given him no choice. So, before he could argue further, Chiara swept from the room. She would talk to Elene. It was done, and now there was no going back. Her daughter would have to understand.

  CHAPTER 37

  Elene

  Elene looked up when her mother came into the kitchen. She saw the look on her face. More trouble? She was relieved at the way her mother and Isabella had taken the discovery of Ferdinand Bauer’s architectural sketches – it could have been a lot worse. She had always known in her heart that they wouldn’t go down well – why would they, when her mother and Isabella preferred the hotel to be stuck in the last century? And, of course she had envisaged telling them in a very different way – a gradual way, a more gentle and persuasive way. But given the circumstances – and she was still cross with Isabella for opening that envelope – her mother’s moderate reaction had been a welcome surprise. We shouldn’t be entirely resistant to change, Bella . . . That was a new one. She supposed that her mother and Silvio had been right – she shouldn’t have gone behind their backs. But it was done – and maybe after all, some good would come out of it.

  ‘Mamma?’ She slipped off her apron. It was time for a break. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Her mother hesitated. ‘You look tired, darling,’ she said.

  ‘It’s been quite a morning.’ Elene decided not to tell her about Ghita going home sick and Febe confiding in her that she was pregnant. Her mother looked exhausted too – they all were. It was time for the season to start winding down at The Lemon Tree Hotel.

  ‘Do you have a moment? Your father’s just arrived and he wants to talk to you, but I wondered if I could have a quick word first.’ And she looked around as if Papà was about to charge into the kitchen after her.

  ‘That’s fine. Shall we get a coffee?’

  ‘Or perhaps some fresh air.’ Her mother took her arm and steered her out of the back door. ‘I want to talk to you in private,’ she murmured into her ear.

  Oh, dear. But Elene submitted with good grace.

  They walked through the kitchen garden. ‘I don’t want to pile more pressure on to you, when I can see you’re exhausted,’ her mother began.

  Oh, dear, Elene thought again.

  ‘But I have to be honest – with myself and with you.’

  Elene steeled herself. ‘Is this about the drawings? We did say we’d discuss each one—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  Her mother hesitated. ‘It’s about your father and me.’

  Elene felt a deep sense of foreboding. ‘Go on, Mamma.’

  The scent of flowering sage and thyme rose up to meet them as they came to the edge of the herb garden. Her mother trailed a hand through the purple flowers. A bee buzzed crossly. ‘We have decided to separate, cara.’ She held up a hand before Elene could say anything. ‘I know you don’t want it. I know you hate the thought of it. But we’ve made the decision – and now we have to see it through.’

  Elene sighed. ‘We?’ But there was such a note of finality in her mother’s voice – she knew it was hopeless.

  ‘Your father and I. You see, darling, we’ve grown apart. We both love you – and that will never change, believe me. But we don’t love each other – not any more.’

  ‘What happened?’ Elene knew something had happened in Pisa – she just knew it. Her mother had been acting strangely even before she left, and when she came back . . . Had they had some sort of showdown there?

  ‘Nothing specific.’

  Elene narrowed her eyes. She was lying.

  ‘I can’t tell you exactly,’ she amended.

  Elene shrugged. It was one of her defensive shrugs that made it look as if she didn’t care – but what did Mamma expect of her? And what difference did it make, really? Her father spent such little time here – Silvio was right. But in her heart, she felt something sink still lower. Her family – breaking apart.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ her mother whispered.

  ‘You promised not to leave him.’ Elene supposed it was selfish to remind her mother of that. She supposed she should never have extracted that promise from her in the first place. But she had felt so frightened. She couldn’t explain that childhood fear – not to Silvio, not to her mother, not even to herself.

  ‘I know.’ Chiara reached for her hand and clutched on to it as if she needed some reassurance from Elene. It was a strange feeling, because her mother had never really needed anything as far as she knew, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the role reversal that seemed to be taking place between them.

  ‘And I tried,’ her mother said. ‘But things have changed. I’m so sorry to let you down.’

  Elene nodded. The full impact of what her mother was saying seemed not to be sinking in. Did that mean that she had been expecting it? Or was she so cold, so heartless that she didn’t care?

  Her mother was still talking. ‘I made that promise to you in good faith, I really did. But I cannot keep it.’

  ‘Did Papà find out?’ Elene pulled her hand away. She felt as if she should maintain a defensive stance. ‘Because if he did – I didn’t tell him, you know.’

  ‘Find out?’

  ‘About Dante Rossi.’

  Her mother shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t find out.’ For a moment she gazed towards the olive grove as if she were thinking of some other time. ‘That wasn’t the reason, Elene,’ she said. ‘This has nothing to do with Dante.’

  Was that true? And did it even matter now? ‘And Papà?’ she asked. ‘Will he live in Pisa?’ Would he still visit them? Would Elene have time to visit him?

  ‘You can ask him yourself.’ Her mother hesitated. ‘He’s coming to talk to you too.’

  Elene looked at her, really looked at her, and she suddenly felt ashamed. ‘I shouldn’t have made you choose,’ she blurted. ‘Silvio was right. I should never have made you choose.’

  *

  When Elene returned to la cucina fifteen minutes later, sure enough, her father was waiting to speak to her.

  ‘Papà.’ She walked into his arms.

  He held her for a moment without speaking. ‘Will you forgive me, Elene?’ he said at last. ‘I never meant for this to happen.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. If the love has truly died between you . . .’ Elene drew away. Why was it so easy to give affection to her father and so hard to respond to her mother? She’d almost given in to it a few minutes earlier outside in the olive grove, but something always stopped her. Was it because they were both strong women, both too determined to get their own way?

  He tipped up her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. ‘I haven’t behaved well,’ he said. ‘I’m your father and I’ve had to be reminded of that fact. And . . .’ His voice had a tremor to it that she’d never heard before. ‘Well, never mind.’

  Once again, Elene had the sensation of being thrust into a different role. ‘
I understand,’ she said, though she didn’t. ‘I just want you and Mamma to be happy.’ And slightly to her surprise she realised that this was what she wanted. ‘And for everything to stay the same,’ she added. Which she wanted even more.

  ‘Nothing will change, Elene,’ he told her. ‘You’ll see. You can take time off and come to Pisa. I’ll buy you lunch.’

  She laughed.

  ‘I’ll still come to Vernazza – and buy you lunch there as well.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘I most certainly will. Just as I said: nothing will change.’

  CHAPTER 38

  Chiara

  The following evening, Chiara took Giovanna over some supper. She hadn’t seen her since her return from Pisa and she wanted to make sure that all was well. More than that, she realised, as she knocked lightly on the front door and let herself into the cottage, she needed Giovanna’s touch of quiet sanity in her life. Half an hour or so with her old aunt would be soothing and just what she needed after the last few days. Alonzo had taken some things and left the hotel. None of it had been easy, and there would be many more difficulties ahead, but Chiara was relieved that it was done. As for Elene . . .

  ‘Chiara.’ Giovanna came into the kitchen. ‘How lovely to see you, my dear.’ She was looking well.

  ‘Aunt Giovanna. Good evening to you.’ They exchanged kisses, and Chiara gave her the bowl of pasta.

  ‘Grazie mille, my dear.’ Her old eyes were bright as she sniffed appreciatively.

  ‘Prawns with courgettes and saffron,’ Chiara told her. Elene had such a touch with the saffron – and whatever else was going on in her life, it never seemed to affect her abilities as a chef. The sauce would be creamy with a red warmth, just a hint of winter fires embedded within. Though Chiara did not want to look ahead to winter too soon . . . She was conscious of a feeling of dread, of loss, that she wasn’t accustomed to.

  ‘Do you have to rush back, my dear?’ Giovanna leaned forwards in a conspiratorial manner. ‘Can you stay for a small aperitivo?’