by Daisy James
Life wasn’t fair, but all anyone could do was make the best of the cards they were dealt.
Chapter Twenty
Eduardo’s ristorante, San Gimignano
Colour: Sparkling prosecco
‘Wow, this pappardelle con ragù di cinghiale is absolutely delicious,’ declared Jennie. ‘Do you think Eduardo will give me the recipe?’
‘I doubt it,’ laughed Luca, glancing in the direction of his friend, who was busy polishing glasses at the bar with one eye on the kitchen door and the other roaming around his clientele, as vigilant as a fox ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey, except his would be with a bottle of grappa. ‘It’s an old family recipe handed down from his great-grandmother. You know, us Tuscans can be very particular when it comes to our recipes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, there’s no way we would ever put meatballs with spaghetti, or sprinkle cheese on a seafood pasta, and if you want to remain friends with your neighbours, never let them find out that you prefer a handful of fresh parsley in your minestrone – rumour has it that there’s a family in the next valley who haven’t spoken to their neighbours for twenty years because of this!’
‘That’s utterly crazy!’
‘Italian cuisine is all about authenticity – this is where the slow-food movement started as a backlash against the creeping popularity of fast food. We can’t understand why people want to sip on a cappuccino out of a cardboard cup whilst walking down the street when they could linger over an espresso or a latte at a pavement cafe. Food is passion, it’s pride, it’s love.’
Izzie sneaked a glance at Nick from beneath her lashes, keen to ensure he’d recovered from his earlier disclosures. She needn’t have worried because his head was tipped back, his dark curls falling away from his face as he roared with laughter at something Dylan had told him before helping himself to another glass of grappa.
Eduardo had seated them at a table in a rear courtyard, heated by two huge outdoor chimeneas and decorated with the ubiquitous ceramic pots filled with geraniums and strings of twinkling fairy lights. A ripple of live guitar music filtered through from the main restaurant, along with tendrils of warm red wine and baked garlic, inducing a convivial atmosphere for the choir’s final evening in Tuscany. Izzie was relieved to see that the whole choir – all fifteen of them – were enjoying their last night in Italy together, with everyone taking turns to share anecdotes of their time there.
Those who had chosen to engage in a week of snow sports regaled them with stories of daring and comedy, with one member raising his hand in the air to display his strapped fingers.
‘Broke my pinky!’ said Archie, with an element of pride.
‘Well, at least it won’t affect your vocal cords,’ replied Nick, holding up his glass to toast his fellow baritone.
Those who had engaged in more sedate pursuits spoke of mornings spent gazing at some of the most amazing art in the world, telling stories of Botticelli, Donatello, Masaccio. One of their visits had been to the Galleria dell’Accademia, where they had spent the best part of an hour simply marvelling at the genius of Michelangelo’s hand. They had devoured every fact their guide Fabio had imparted, asked endless questions and taken hundreds of photographs. Every one of them had promised to return with their partners, their friends or their families in the summer to climb the hill to Piazza Michelangelo and show them the spectacular view of Firenze spread out on the other side of the River Arno.
Izzie watched the group’s interactions as if enjoying a stage play, sitting in the grand circle and listening to the various snippets of conversations. She had devoured everything Eduardo had put in front of her, including a huge slice of his torta della nonna, but she had chosen to abstain from the grappa that was currently doing the rounds, preferring to drink in the atmosphere of San Gimignano at night as it might be the last time she would see the beautiful town, at least for a while.
A sudden sweep of melancholy engulfed her, that her future had once again not panned out as she had hoped. However, she quickly put her sadness into perspective – the sale of Villa Limoncello was a mere blip in life’s journey after the chasm she had navigated her way out of after losing Anna. Regret was a pointless emotion, so what she had to do now was concentrate on enjoying every moment she had left in Tuscany, just like her guests were doing, then start making plans for a new future.
She felt an uptick of optimism, and when she tuned back into what was happening in the restaurant, she saw Luca was gazing at her with such intensity that her cheeks flushed and her resolve to focus on Harry’s new project in Cornwall crumbled. Even if the villa was sold, that didn’t mean she had to return to the UK. Look at Meghan – she was doing everything she could to find a job in Florence, or Pisa, or Siena or anywhere in Tuscany, or Italy for that matter, so she could be with Gianni.
Why wasn’t she doing the same?
Confusion reigned, but that wasn’t the time to deal with it. She smiled at Sofia, who was chattering away about the costumes she’d helped stitch for the latest theatre production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, then she looked across at Dylan and Phoebe, their heads bent together, Dylan’s arm draped across the back of Phoebe’s chair as he smiled into her eyes, nodding occasionally. She hoped Dylan would be able to help Phoebe come to terms with Nathan’s betrayal. After all, it was only money, as well as the loss of a promotion which would only have kept her on the eternal treadmill of all work and no play. Hopefully a sideways move would prove beneficial in that the pressure she had been under for so long would lessen and she’d be able to take some time for herself to make new friends, form new attachments, maybe fall in love.
She switched her scrutiny to Dylan and saw a man who was already well along that path, even if Phoebe hadn’t realised it yet. She knew from what Jennie had said that Dylan deserved every slice of the happiness pie that was on the menu after the way he had put his life on hold to support and care for his brother and sister. This was his time to grasp life and she hoped he could do that – with Phoebe by his side.
‘So, Dylan, now that you’ve sold your business to that tech giant, have you had chance to write any more songs?’ asked Archie, the choir member with the broken finger, who had struggled to eat the huge T-bone steak he’d ordered until Jennie offered to cut it into smaller pieces for him.
‘I’ve written a whole album, Archie, my friend!’ laughed Dylan, leaning back in his chair, hooking his ankle over his thigh, his face taking on an animated expression at the opportunity to talk about his music.
‘When might we get to hear a couple of them?’
‘Soon – you are my beta listeners!’
‘Well, there’s no time like the present,’ said Archie, a gleam in his green eyes as he leapt from his chair and dashed into the restaurant to speak to the guitarist who was taking a well-earned break at the bar.
Izzie twisted in her seat to see Archie gesturing towards the courtyard. The guitarist smiled, nodded, indicated his instrument, and Archie picked it up and made his way back outside.
‘The stage is all yours, mate!’
Dylan grinned, accepted the guitar and cradled it into his body like it was a beloved pet, strumming his fingers across the strings until he got a feel for the instrument, then playing as though there was only him and his guitar in the whole universe.
When he started to sing, his voice as smooth as caramel, goosepimples ran the length of Izzie’s arms and her swirling emotions from everything that had happened that day caused her throat to tighten. She looked around the table and saw that all eyes were resting on Dylan, listening attentively to the lyrics. The song had clearly been written for Phoebe and here he was, sitting in a courtyard in San Gimignano, singing it to her with such intense emotion that no one would have doubted its inspiration.
When the final note faded into the midnight air there was a brief pause as everyone held their breath, waiting for Phoebe’s reaction, and when she leaned forward, slowly, tentativel
y, and met his waiting lips, the whole restaurant erupted into a frenzy of delight with whoops and applause, even a whistle from Archie.
Jennie was the first out of her seat to embrace the couple, then it was Sofia’s turn, and within minutes the whole choir had surrounded Dylan and Phoebe.
‘He’s far too talented for our little choir,’ one of the museum fans whispered to Izzie as she wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘He should be the lead singer in his brother’s band!’
‘His sister, Martha, is a talented clarinet player too,’ added the woman’s friend, replenishing everyone’s glasses of prosecco so the group could toast Dylan and Phoebe’s relationship.
Izzie glanced across at Luca, who was standing at the bar with Eduardo, watching the unfolding romance, the expression on his face unfathomable. She was about to go over and talk to him when Nick stood up, called for everyone’s attention and declared it was time to go or their taxis would leave without them. To the cacophony of scraping chairs, everyone gathered together their belongings and made their way through the restaurant, thanking Eduardo, thanking Luca, expressing their effusive praise for the delicious food.
When everyone was outside, Izzie turned to Luca.
‘Luca, I…’
‘Would you be able to guide the choir to the car park, Izzie? There’re a few things I need to talk to Eduardo about. I’ll see you tomorrow for the final patisserie session.’
Luca smiled and leaned forward to place chaste kisses on her cheeks, a gesture that caused Izzie’s heart to thump to her boots, but there was no point asking him what was going on because Eduardo remained by his side and her guests were waiting for her just beyond the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Eduardo’s ristorante, San Gimignano
Colour: Titian fizz
‘Luca, tell me to mind my own business, but I think you need to sit down and talk to Izzie.’
‘Eduardo, can we not do this right now…’
‘There’s no point ignoring the facts – that’s no good for anyone. You saw the look on her face. She’s hurt and I don’t blame her. You practically ignored her all night, as though you have no feelings for her at all – and you and I both know that’s as far from the truth as it’s possible to get.’
‘Eduardo…’
‘Explain to her about your decision to sell the villa – she’ll understand. There aren’t many people with the bottomless pit of money that it takes to maintain one of those aging duchesses. Then, when that’s out of the way, tell her you love her and that you don’t want her to take the job in England – there’s plenty of work in the villas and houses around here owned by wealthy expats who want to drag their crumbling old properties out of the doldrums and into the twenty-first century. But unless you tell her how you feel, she’s got no reason not to take the job. It’s a great opportunity from what you said – no one’s going to turn down the post of creative director for a property company without a very good reason.’
‘Exactly! How can I expect Izzie to give that up? I’m not that selfish. It’s the perfect job for her – what she’s always dreamed of – a bunch of old houses to renovate and re-style, not to mention the fact that it’s in her home county and within cycling distance of her parents. I’m sorry, Eduardo, I can’t be the one to take her away from her mother and father after what they’ve been through.’
‘In my experience, most parents want their children to do what makes them happy, Luca. You’re not taking her away from them, you’re offering her a lifetime of happiness! Look, if you won’t listen to me, perhaps Elina can talk some sense into you.’
‘Mio Dio, not Elina!’ cried Luca, faking horror at the threat of having a chat with Eduardo’s wife, and the mother of his two children Alessio and Cara, about the rollercoaster ride that was love.
Eduardo smiled, but he wasn’t swayed by Luca’s attempt at levity.
‘Luca, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for Izzie, but I urge you to reconsider. The only way to deal with this is to talk to her and be honest about your how you feel, what you truly want, and then, if she decides to go home, you’ll have a clear conscience, knowing you did all you could to make her stay. It’s up to Izzie to decide between Italy and Cornwall, or even London. If you don’t do this, then I suspect you’ll never forgive yourself. Do you want to spend the rest of your life thinking about what could have been, like Carlos?’
‘What do you mean “like Carlos”?’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if it helps to persuade you to see the light then I’m going to, but first you have to give me your word that you’ll keep it to yourself.’
‘What’s Carlos done?’
‘I need your promise first.’
‘Okay, but…’
‘Ever wondered why Carlos hasn’t dated since he started working at Antonio’s last summer? Why he was always so keen to take on extra shifts while you and Izzie were renovating the villa? Well, it’s not just because he loves the restaurant, you know.’
‘It isn’t?’ smiled Luca, thinking of his sous chef who ran the trattoria even better than he did himself. He realised with a pang of guilt that it had never occurred to him to wonder why Carlos was never seen in the company of a date; he just assumed he preferred to conduct his love life with discretion and privacy.
‘Carlos was given the chance to follow his long-term partner to Australia to set up their own Italian trattoria in Melbourne, but he prevaricated for so long that he missed the boat so to speak, and within weeks of arriving Adi had met someone else. I won’t go into details, but Carlos was devastated and he regretted not having the courage to take the leap into the unknown, to propose before Adi caught the flight.’
‘I never knew…’
‘Just don’t make the same mistake. Oh, I’m not suggesting you propose to Izzie – just talk to her, find out how she feels, what she really wants. If it’s to go back home, then fine, but if it’s to stay here with you – and that’s the team I’m batting for – then you can’t throw away the chance at happiness that’s staring you in the face. I remember how upset you were when Sabrina refused to relocate to San Vivaldo.’
‘Eduardo, can we—’
‘And what a huge shock it was when you found out she was seeing Claudio behind your back, but as your friend I can tell you one thing – you never looked as happy with Sabrina as you do when you’re with Izzie. She brings something so carefree, so spontaneous out in you! Not to mention the fact that she’s been the catalyst to you starting to work on the villa, and even though it hasn’t turned out as you’d hoped, the building has brought you closer together, like one of Carlotta’s matchmaking success stories!’
Luca fiddled with his half-empty glass of Vernaccia that he’d made last all night so he could drive home. Everything Eduardo had said started to rotate in his head like a whirlpool of mist until he felt completely disorientated.
‘Luca? Luca, will you do that?’
Eventually, Luca tuned back in to what Eduardo was saying.
‘Yes, you’re right, thanks.’
Luca leaned forward and enveloped his friend in a tight bear hug, slapping him on the back to show him how much he appreciated his advice without having to actually say the words. Eduardo’s reasoned argument was spot-on. Right up until the week before Izzie had turned up at the villa, he had been rehearsing what he was going to say to her about the future, how he planned to tell her he was selling the villa, then move the conversation on to more personal matters, to tell her how he felt about her and ask her to move in with him in the apartment above the trattoria. But then Harry’s offer had thrown a curveball into the mix and he’d had to reassess his plans.
As he jumped into his beloved Spider for the short journey home to San Vivaldo, he made a decision and the vice-like grip that had squeezed at his temples since Izzie had arrived at Villa Limoncello diminished and the tunnel of indecision filled with light. Eduardo’s story of what had happened to Carlos galvanised him into action. His fr
iend was right – if he allowed Izzie to leave at the weekend without telling her how he felt, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
When the street lights of the village came into view, he resolved to present the final patisserie course, and then, after the Snowflakes & Christmas Cakes guests had finally left for the airport and before Meghan and Jonti arrived on Saturday morning, he would take Izzie’s hand, guide her to the limonaia she loved so much, and in the presence of the lemon trees he would tell her he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The kitchen, Villa Limoncello
Colour: Velvety sunshine
Izzie woke to the sound of her alarm for the first time since arriving in Tuscany back in the summer. Usually she was roused by the dawn chorus coaxing her down the stairs for an early morning stroll through the garden before even the nocturnal animals had scampered back to bed. However, last night she’d had difficulty falling asleep, her thoughts ricocheting from the disappointment that Luca hadn’t suggested she join him for a nightcap at Eduardo’s or even chosen to escort them back to the villa where she could have persuaded him to have a coffee and then cross-examined him about what was eating him up.
But she had no time to wallow in her insecurities because she had breakfast to sort out and the ingredients for that morning’s tutorial to prepare. Friday – it had been the day she’d been looking forward to the most, culinarily speaking. Luca was planning to showcase his grandmother’s recipe for tiramisu with a Christmas twist, whilst she was going to attempt her limoncello and white chocolate yule log which she had been practising all week and she had just about got right.
