Flipped (Better With Prosecco Book 1)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  “Stefano, why don’t you go and keep Indigo company. I know that Sara and Stella would love to have you, too. Don’t worry, I’ll save the heavy cases for when you get back.”

  Stefano looked concerned. “You’ll look after Marbles? You won’t let her run away?”

  “That cat’s no dummy, Stefano. She knows where her bread is buttered. She’s not going anywhere. Now shoo, the both of you, and give me some space to finish this packing.”

  Thirty minutes later and she was nearly ready. She looked at the pile of cases stacked on the side porch and felt a big hole open inside her. She didn’t want to leave Borgotaro. She didn’t want to leave this house which had become the messiest, craziest, most frustratingly wonderful home she'd ever had. She didn’t want to leave without speaking to Dean. Now she had some distance she realized that her angry response to him that day had been a bit over the top. She'd love the chance to apologize. Even if they would never see each other again at least she would know they'd parted on good terms. He hadn't called her. She'd been too nervous to call him.

  Yesterday when she'd gone up to say goodbye to Sara she'd done a little fishing. “So how’s Dean re-adjusting to fame?” she’d asked, just throwing the question out casually, without meeting Sara’s eyes.

  “He hasn’t called us,” Sara had said, not meeting Hazel’s eyes either. “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “I’m sure,” she’d answered.

  Time for the last suitcase. She plodded up the stairs a final time. She'd fibbed to Stefano. She’d said she'd save the heavy ones, but when she started a job she liked to finish it. The suitcase was a beast, and after she'd manhandled it down the stairs, she tripped over the sill of the porch and the heavy case slipped from her hands hitting the porch floor with a thump. There was a piercing meow and Marbles came shooting out from under the case and was off running like she was being chased by a kitten banshee. Hazel swore under her breath and ran after her. Stefano would murder her if anything happened to that cat. She almost caught her but then watched in dismay as the tiny creature scrambled up the old tree in the front garden. When the little thing was just about even with the gutters on the roof she stopped, and clung there, shivering and wailing.

  Hazel stood below the tree and called up to her to come down. This would not do. They had no time for this. There were maybe ten minutes before they were out of here for good and there was no way Stefano would let them leave with his beloved Marbles stuck up in a tree.

  She called again. "Here, kitty, kitty. Come on baby. Just come right back down."

  Marbles wouldn’t budge, just kept shivering and crying. Cat food. Hazel thought. That kitten was a psychic. Every time she went near the cupboard with the cat food in it, Marbles appeared at her feet. She went inside and grabbed the cat food. She took it beneath the tree and banged the fork against the can.

  “Here, kitty, kitty.” Isn’t that what they said? Kitty didn’t budge. Hazel sighed. How was she going to get up there? She had to get this cat down before Stefano got home. She glanced nervously up the hill to check he wasn’t coming. There was no way she had a ladder high enough. There was only one way to get her down. If she went to the fourth floor widow’s walk and climbed out onto the roof, she could probably shimmy down to the edge and hold onto the gutter to grab Marbles. The branch where the cat was perched was only a foot or so away from the edge of the roof.

  Hazel had never been up to the tiny glass enclosure. It was apparently meant to be an enclosed widow’s walk, but how a widow was supposed to hang out here Hazel had no idea. It was so small she couldn’t even stretch her arms out to either side without banging the glass window panes. The room was filled with cobwebs and dust. Hazel coughed, wishing she'd thought to bring a bottle of water with her. She opened the window closest to the front and was assaulted by Marble’s wailing. For a small thing she could make a mighty big noise.

  She pulled over the wicker chair that had probably been in this room for a hundred years and knelt on it in front of the window, her hips level with the sill. Gripping the bottom of the open window she extended one leg gingerly onto the roof. Good enough. It didn’t seem too steep now she had a leg on it. She gripped the window tighter and hoisted her other leg out. All okay so far. She scootched her behind onto the roof tiles and wiggled, everything seemed secure. Slowly she let go of the sill and started a very careful butt shimmy down the roof toward the tree. She didn't look down. She didn’t need to remind herself how high up she was. A fall from here could be catastrophic.

  On her next shimmy, she lifted her right butt cheek and shifted her hip forward just enough to move to the next roof tile, then all hell broke loose. The tile slipped out from under her, clattering down the roof, and her balance was thrown. She reached out with her left hand to slow her tumble, but the tile under that hand gave way as well. She instinctively flopped onto her back before starting a rapid slide down the incline of the roof. Roof tiles were popping off all over the place now and clattered around her. She scrambled around with her hands to find something to hold onto, but there was nothing, and she kept sliding rapidly toward the edge. This is it, she thought. This is where I die. What a crappy way to end a life, during such a miserable time.

  And then she saw her life flash before her, just like they say it does in the movies. She saw her seven-year-old self rushing home from school with test results to write to her fantasy father and tell him. She saw her eighteen-year-old self sitting in her room drilling herself with timed AP English essays instead of going to the parties the other girls in her class never invited her to. She saw her twenty-three-year-old self sitting in her near empty apartment in Jacksonville pulling an all-nighter to help Liz win a client for her new marketing company. She saw Dean leaning over her, his face falling into shade as he blocked her from the Italian sun. She felt him plant his soft lips on hers.

  Slam!

  Her teeth clacked painfully together as the collision forced her to a jolting stop. That was it then. She was dead. Please don't let Indigo be the one to find her body on the ground. She’d be a total freak about it. Hang on. Wait a minute. Although her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, there was light beyond them. Sunlight? She took a deep breath (she was breathing!) and opened her eyes. There was the sky. And unless the Heaven sky looked an awful lot like the Borgotaro sky, it would appear she was still on the roof. There was a plaintive meow to her left. She carefully lifted her head to see if she could look down at her feet. There they were. Both heels of her practical travel sneakers were wedged securely in the gunk-filled gutter. She was still in one piece, lying on her back on the incline of the roof. The ancient, cast iron gutter had arrested her fall. They sure don’t make things like they used to, she thought, a hysterical giggle escaping her mouth. She was saved. She wouldn't die today.

  “What in the world are you doing up there, you crazy girl? He’s not worth it!” Indigo screamed at her from the road in front of the house.

  Hazel realized that she could tuck her elbows underneath her back and prop herself up enough to see the street way, way below. Stefano and Indigo were standing there frozen, staring at her as though she’d gone mad.

  “He is a ‘she’ Mother. You know all calicos are girls.”

  “What calico? I’m talking about Dean! Isn’t that why you're considering throwing yourself off the roof?”

  Marbles chose that moment to make her presence known with a loud wail. “Marbles!” Stefano shouted. “Hold on! Don't move. Daddy will save you! Atillio has a tall ladder.” And unbelievably, Stefano turned and ran back up the hill, abandoning Hazel and her predicament for the sake of his cat!

  Indigo watched him run off, and then turned back to stare up at Hazel and shrugged. “It’s not like you're going anywhere. You look pretty wedged in. Those sneakers will be a right pain to get clean.”

  It was true. Hazel was wedged in. But she was only just realizing how scared she was. How would she get down? And now she'd made the mistake of looking down at the street it wa
s again brought home to her just how high she was. Fear fluttered in her belly and rushed up into her chest. Her heart raced.

  “You have to get help! I have no idea how to get down from here.”

  “How on earth did you get up there? What were you doing? How am I supposed to get you down? Do you feel stable?” Hazel could hear panic creeping into Indigo's voice now. She’d scared her. A panicking Indigo wouldn't be good for either of them.

  “Mother, calm down,” she said. "I came up here to get the cat, but I slipped. I don’t think I’m going anywhere, but I’m not thrilled to be stuck up here. Could you maybe find help? Help Stefano and Atillio with the ladder?”

  Indigo started her stressed fluttering, hands in the air like butterflies. “Okay, I’ll get Atillio," she screeched, and turned to run downtown, the wrong direction. She was blocked by a sleek, black car that screeched to a halt in front of Indigo.

  She was about to yell out to Indigo to turn around and run in the other direction, but then realized the fear had truly gotten to her. She was hallucinating. She must be. Because the back door of the car opened and out tumbled Dean, a look of terror and distress on his face.

  “What the hell are you doing up there, Hazel? Hang on! I’m coming to get you!!” Dean raced around the fence toward the back door and Hazel felt her eyes fill with relieved tears. Dean. Dean was here.

  50

  Dean

  Dean had breathed a sigh of relief as the town car turned into Via Bellinzona and he’d glimpsed Indigo standing on the hill ahead of him. They were still here. He hadn’t missed them. His plans had not gone awry. Indigo was staring upwards and yelling words into the sky. Not a huge worry, it was Indigo after all, but it did require further investigation. The car nudged up close to Indigo, and Dean followed her line of sight. Hazel! Hazel was flat on her back on the roof, and from the look on her face she wasn’t doing it to get a suntan! He panicked. He hadn’t flown all this way to watch the only woman he’d ever loved slide off of a roof to her certain death! He reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door was locked.

  “Hold on,” said the driver, with a worried look at Dean’s frantic pulling. “I have to open it.”

  Dean heard a latch click, the handle moved, the door flew open, and he lost his balance, tumbling onto the road next to the car.

  “What the hell are you doing up there Hazel?” He scrambled to his feet and held his arms in the air, palms flat towards her, as though he could stop her fall through sheer will. He turned to Indigo. "What's she doing up there, Indigo? You were supposed to look after her for me!"

  Indigo gave him a disgusted look, "What? I didn't let her leave did I? Look!" She pointed up toward Hazel, "She's right there on the roof ready for you to save. Looks like I did a pretty good job, if you ask me!"

  Dean looked up at the roof and felt his stomach turn. It was so high! “Hang on Hazel! I’m coming to get you!!”

  He raced around to the back door of the house and raced up the stairs until he reached the closet that hid the ladder that led to the widow’s walk. He hadn’t been up here yet. Had he tried before his ill-fated Tower of Pisa climb, he might have saved himself the embarrassment of that day by discovering his fear of heights much earlier. His head popped up into the windowed enclosure and he scanned the roof for Hazel. There she was, wedged into the gutter, the top of her head about seven or eight feet in front of him on the left-hand side of the roof. Then he made a huge mistake. A strange mewing sound caught his attention, and he glanced beyond Hazel to catch sight of an animal stuck in the tall tree at the edge of the roof. The problem was, that along with his view of the kitten, he got a view of the ground below. The windows of the widow’s walk began to rotate around him.

  “No!” he told himself and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his vision. “Not now. This can not happen right now!” He took a deep breath and held it. He willed the dizziness to go away, but when he opened his eyes the room and the roof were still spinning.

  “Are you here, Dean?” Hazel called. She was straining, trying to stretch her neck so she could see behind her.

  Dean felt a rush of fear at her movement. He didn't want her to lose her balance. “Don’t move! I don’t want you to slip! Just stay there. I’ll tell you what to do.” Dean took another deep breath and moved toward the open window.

  “You can’t go out there!” Indigo shouted from the street below. “Stella told me you’re terrified of heights. Said you got stuck on the Tower of Pisa. That roof is really high!"

  “Not helpful, Indigo.” Dean called. Nausea gurgled in his stomach.

  “You were stuck on the Tower of Pisa?” Hazel yelled.

  “Yes, I was stuck! Do you think I would have let Isabella get close enough to kiss me if I wasn’t? I couldn't move!” Dean climbed onto the chair next to the window and gasped at the fear that flashed through him. He was totally vulnerable and open to the empty space in front of him. Only the roof was below. “Shoot!”

  “You won’t be very helpful either if you fall off that roof,” Indigo called.

  “Mother!”

  “Indigo!”

  Hazel and Dean shouted simultaneously.

  “But what are you doing here? I thought you were going back to your job, your life in Hollywood?” Hazel sounded on the edge of tears.

  Dean reminded himself that Hazel was probably more scared than he was. He stuck one leg through the window and let it rest on the top of the roof. The hot tiles felt firm underneath him. He felt a tiny surge of confidence which he took advantage of by thrusting his other leg out quickly. “I got fired. Didn’t Indigo tell you?” He called down, “Surely Stella gave you the gossip, Indigo?” He snatched his hands from the bottom of the window frame and grabbed the solid bottom sill. The roof spun around him. He was terrified.

  “Mother? You knew that?” Hazel called.

  “I thought I’d better stay out of it,” Indigo said. “I’ve caused enough problems interfering with your life. Watch out, Dean, those tiles are old and falling off.”

  Dean looked around at the empty patches on the roof, a black pathway leading down to Hazel’s precarious gutter stand. “Thank you, Indigo. Helpful again.”

  “But what are you doing here?” Hazel asked more quietly.

  Dean gripped the sill of the window firmly with his right hand and let his body slide down the roof. When the heart-stopping slide finished his feet were still maybe a foot above Hazel’s head. “I’m saving you from falling off the roof.”

  His breath was coming fast and furious. He thought back to all the times he'd felt guilty about the stuntmen working so hard on the sets of Rolling Thunder. He'd begged to do some of his own stunts, but the producers had always refused. His face and body just had to look good. It was too dangerous to risk damaging their money-maker. But boy was he was thankful for all of those hours in the gym. To get Hazel out of here he would have to hoist them both up back through that window.

  “Hazel can you put your elbows down?" She lowered her elbows and her upper body so she was once again lying flat on the roof. "Good stuff. Now do this carefully, but can you reach behind you and find my foot?”

  Hazel slowly swung her arm behind her, a whimper of fear escaped her which only strengthened Dean’s resolve. He would get her out of this. He would save her. Her hand connected with his foot. Indigo started jumping up and down and clapping her hands. her movements drew his attention for a moment and at the sight of the ground so far below he had to stop to let a wave of dizziness pass through him. “You’re doing great, Hay, now listen closely. I will pull my leg upwards to pull you toward me but you need to pull your feet out of that gutter, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered. He heaved his leg upwards, but she didn’t budge. He heard her grunting as she tried to detach her feet from their wedged position in the gutter. "They won’t move. I’m stuck here forever.” Now she was crying, and that was it for him. He wanted her in his arms right now. He wanted to hold her and tell her h
e'd keep her safe forever. She'd never feel afraid again. He pulled hard with his leg and he felt her pop up and out of the gutter.

  “My shoes!” she yelled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled hard with his right arm until he got his left arm on the sill and then pulled himself through the window, falling atop of the wicker chair until his foot, and Hazel’s hand were even with the bottom sill. She was right there, within reach, but still not safe.

  He was panting with the effort but they weren’t done yet. “Hold on, okay?” his butt was in the chair and his shoulders practically touched the floor, he did a sit up and reached out with his hands, grabbing onto Hazel’s arm. The problem now was that he couldn’t unhook his heels from the windowsill, so he just pulled her through the window. The chair toppled out from underneath him and they ended up in a jumble on the floor, their noses almost touching, their limbs wound together like a pretzel.

  There she was. Right in front of him. And this time he would never let her go. “Hazel,” he whispered, reaching up to sweep her hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

  “Dean,” she said, fully crying now. “I cannot believe you’re here. Don’t leave me again, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, and leaned forward to plant the softest kiss on her quivering lips.

  51

  Hazel

  Hazel couldn’t believe it. Dean was here. What did it mean? Was he coming back to get her? This kiss certainly felt like he wanted to be with her. Did she want to be with him? Heck yeah. She’d go anywhere with him. Hollywood, Jacksonville, Timbuktu. Now he was here and his lips were on hers she didn’t want anything to change.

  “What are you doing here?” she breathed, when he finally pulled away.