by Robena Grant
****
Villa Ventimiglia was breathtaking. The main house was huge, built from stone. The estate, set in the midst of olive groves, ran for miles into the hills above Calvi. Gardens and walkways surrounded the house; huge trees provided ample shade for seated areas.
“Is built in the eighteen hundreds…not so old for Corsica,” Nico said.
There were four small stone houses with flat roofs, on a level section slightly below the main house. The small houses appeared ancient. All had the same dark brown wooden doors, and brown shutters on the windows. Pots of geraniums, one on either side of each doorway, added a burst of bright red color.
“Original, from when my ancestors came from Italy.” Nico waved his arms about as he spoke.
“How long ago was that?” Susan asked.
“In the fourteen hundreds.” He pulled up in the small courtyard.
“Wow.” Dia checked out the houses again. “So, we’ll be staying in these?”
Nico jumped out of the car.
How awesome was that?
Nico opened a door to one house. He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Inside, you will find all the modern conveniences.”
He was right. Each house had one bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a huge room with a stone fireplace. French doors opened out onto a wide terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. Dia and Susan’s houses were next to each other, in the middle of the row of four. Those at either end were vacant.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Dia walked out onto the terrace. Susan followed. Nico went back for the luggage. They stood, saying nothing, but grinning like a couple of kids. Nico put her luggage in the bedroom, and then hurried outside.
“Susan,” he said. “Let me show you. Your house is next door.”
Dia stood on the terrace soaking in the ambience, the lush, grassy scent of nature, the warmth of the sun on her face. A door opened behind her.
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Susan pushed forward and peered around the corner from her terrace. “What a magnificent view.”
Dia leaned against the railing taking in the sights of the bay below. “It’s perfection.”
Carlo would love this. She rubbed the silver bracelet with a thumb and finger.
“You wait, this view is excellent. But…the pool…I take you there. It is new.”
Dia heard the pride in Nico’s voice, but she couldn’t see him. Each terrace was private, which she suddenly realized was a good thing. She was certain Nico would be a constant visitor to the house next door.
“You can see the Citadel from there,” Nico called. “Bring the camera.”
Susan laughed. “Let’s go see.”
“Then you will come up to the house and meet Mama and my aunts,” Nico said. “They will have prepared for us a lunch.”
“Are you ready, Dia?” Susan asked.
Dia heard the trace of nervousness in Susan’s voice. “Of course, I’ll be right out.”
The walk to the pool wasn’t far, and once again Nico had not exaggerated. Some of the trees had blocked this view from the terrace. The pool area had been cut into the hillside. There were comfortable looking deck chairs, and rich burgundy umbrellas. The pool water beckoned, cool, blue, and speckled with sun. A small stone wall waterfall burbled from one end of the pool.
Dia knew what she would do this afternoon. She strolled to the edge of the decking. The entire bay of Calvi spread out before them. Above the coastal town stood the Citadel, as if providing protection. The Mediterranean, an exquisite turquoise, hosted boats of every size and nature.
“Niiiiiiccccooo,” a female voice called.
They turned toward the villa. A woman stood shading her eyes with one hand, beckoning with the other. She spoke quickly. Dia thought she recognized the word for lunch. Nico responded that they would be five minutes.
“Can I pick up my gifts for the ladies?” Susan asked.
“Me, too,” Dia said.
“But of course.” Nico slung an arm around Susan’s shoulders. “Let us hurry, though. We do not want to keep Mama waiting.”
****
“Is best you forget the names—you just call Mama, and everyone else you call Auntie.” Nico laughed. He repeated everything in Corse to the women. Mama nodded, and the aunts beamed.
Dia was happy to comply because all four aunts looked and dressed exactly the same. Mama was a little taller, and her hair was almost white. Susan smiled shyly as she held Mama’s hand making an effort to say something in Italian. Then she picked up the paper bag she’d put at her side, and produced five gifts.
“Grazie. Questo é per lei.” Susan handed each lady a gift.
Dia smiled. Susan had practiced saying, “thank you, this is for you,” with the lady in the farmer’s market.
“Grazie,” each of the women said.
Dia waited her turn. She’d bought a group gift: a set of six Mickey Mouse coffee mugs. The ladies laughed and indicated there were enough for Nico to have one. Then they opened their gifts from Susan, and oohed over the brightly colored silk scarves.
“I have this for you, Nico,” Dia said. “It isn’t nearly enough. You’ve been so generous.”
Susan gave her a quizzical look.
Nico undid the small package. He smiled when he lifted up the key chain. “Perfetto. Did you see the old key ring in the car?”
Dia nodded. At the same time she noticed Susan’s smile had faded. “Frank said you would like it, because it’s from Bloomingdale’s.”
“Ahhh.” He turned it over in his hands.
“It’s a gift from me and Susan,” Dia said. “She chose this one.”
Nico’s eyes lit up. He planted a kiss on Susan’s cheek. “Grazie, I will treasure.”
Susan looked beyond Nico, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Dia waved her off. Minutes later, the ladies, all wearing their new scarves, shepherded them to the outdoors where a table was set with linens and colorful china beneath the shade trees. Lunch lasted for almost two hours. It consisted of fabulous pasta, divine ham, salads of every nature, homegrown olives, and homemade cheese and bread. A dessert tray groaned with calories. And of course, wine.
None of the ladies spoke English, although Nico said they understood many of the words. Between his interpreting, and Susan’s insistency on using one or two Italian words or phrases, along with smiles and hand waving, there was much fun and laughter. Somehow they all understood each other. Susan glowed, embraced by these loving women.
Dia could see Susan living here, the perfect hostess, while Angie ran around lording it over everyone as the princess of Ventimiglia. Dia was reminded of their conversation about Cinderella. Had Susan met her prince?
Sadness washed over her. She missed Carlo more than ever. But was she reacting to true feelings, or just the fact that everybody at the table had forgotten that she existed?
Chapter Twenty
Whatever blue funk Dia had been in on the day they’d arrived in Calvi, it had dissipated quickly. Nico had kept them busy. They’d visited the UNESCO Marine World Heritage site, watched dolphins and seals, and they walked for miles.
On Friday, they went to lunch at Bout du Monde for seafood. Today they visited the Calvi citadel perched on the top of a chalky headland. Dia pulled in a deep breath after the walk up the hill.
She looked at her brochure. “Wow, it says here, ‘The Genoese fortified town was constructed in the thirteenth century made up of a series of walls, with crisscrossed narrow streets.’ ”
Susan huffed to a stop, bent forward, and pulled in a deep breath. “They didn’t say anything about the steep walk, did they?”
Dia shook her head. “It’s also known as Ville-Haute. Oh, wait a minute, it says here that inside there are public and religious edifices and the former palace of the governor, the law court, the town hall, even the college.”
“That’s cool. But I need a little breather.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, too,” Dia said. “I’m out of shape, probably
because of all the wonderful food Mama and the aunts keep feeding us.”
Susan laughed and patted her tummy. “You can say that again. I’m sure I’ve put on a pound or three, although we have walked a lot.”
“Soon as I go back home I’m joining a gym. Did I tell you there’s one opening this week? It’s right near my new apartment.”
“You’re moving?” Susan moved back against a stone wall. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. “You know it just occurred to me we’ve hardly had a chance to talk privately since we got here. Tell me about your new place.”
Nico had wandered off to peer through an opening in the stone wall that overlooked the bay. He dug into the pocket of his cargo shorts, pulled out a small camera, and began photographing.
“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back into my own apartment. Don’t you think?” Dia took shelter in the one patch of shade next to Susan, and fanned her hot face with the brochure.
“I suppose. But it will be a big change.”
“I’m ready.” Dia thought about that for a moment.
“You’ve never said much about your ex. You seem so all together.”
“That’s a good one.” Dia snorted.
Susan watched her for a moment, and then looked toward Nico. “It must have been difficult. You know, giving up your place, and then the wedding falling through. Not to mention living with your mother.”
“Not so much. I mean, Mama and I have had our moments. She can be pushy about everything Italian. We’re both a bit hard-headed.” Dia laughed. “She gets something in her head and gnaws away at it until you almost go crazy. Sometimes I give in for peace and quiet.”
“I know what you mean. When David died, I didn’t want to go to my parents’ home. But I did, for two weeks, then I had to escape back to our condo. I don’t think they’ve forgiven me yet.”
“Yeah, parents can be tough. But they love us. Everything they do is from love.”
Susan laughed. “Or fear. Listen, I know your mother adores Carlo. You’re not…I mean it’s none of my business or anything, and you don’t have to answer.”
“Hey, spit it out,” Dia said, thankful that a slight breeze had decided to visit this otherwise sultry day. “You can ask me anything.”
“You’re not dating him just to please your mother, are you?” She bit at her fingernail, and averted her eyes. “I love Carlo. He’s had his share of pain in recent years, and, well, I’ve never seen him so smitten before. I’d hate for him to get hurt.”
Smitten? So they were both smitten. But was that enough? Besides, she hadn’t discussed with Carlo how she felt, didn’t really understand how she felt, so it didn’t seem right to say anything to Susan. She liked her; they would always have a friendship. But she was Carlo’s sister. So for now, she’d better not confide in any romantic yearnings, doubts, or possibilities.
“I like your brother a lot, and I think he likes me. I’m dating him by choice.” She laughed then, and linked her arm through Susan’s. “I never thought I’d ever say that, dating an Italian-American by choice. Come on, let’s hit that gelato stand before we go inside to explore.”
“Good, I’m glad.” Susan smiled back at her.
Dia waited, sensing she wasn’t quite done.
Susan shaded her eyes and looked around. “I can’t believe Carlo stood up to Mother about you. Nico.” She made several beckoning movements with one hand, looking just like the aunts. “Nico. Gelato.”
Dia pulled in a quick deep breath.
Nico waved back and walked toward them, snapping photos of them. Dia pushed thoughts of Carlo and his mother from her mind. They pouted and primped and made silly faces until Nico finally quit and put the cap on the lens. But deep down Dia had wanted to pursue that conversation, to find out exactly what Carlo had said to his mother.
****
They returned to the villa for an afternoon swim, and then a nap, followed by an early dinner at the big house. Then Nico took them into town. They danced in the nightclub called Chez Tao at the Citadel.
Exhausted, Dia sat on a bar stool sipping her drink. The Italian/Corse men sure could dance. She ran a hand over her damp forehead, and looked down at the rings on her hand. She’d been posing as a married woman again. That hadn’t deterred amorous advances. It had been fun though, to get dressed up and put on heels and jewelry.
“My princesses,” Nico said, as he guided Susan back to the bar. He sat between them. “You are both most excellent dancers.”
Susan and Dia sipped their drinks and rolled their eyes.
“I think I’m about done,” Susan said, after she’d downed a huge glass of sparkling water. “Besides, I need to call Angie.”
“A sweet bambino.” Nico ordered another drink. “I always wanted to have a child.”
“Did you?” Susan’s voice sounded husky.
Dia focused on the barman, feeling a bit like an eavesdropper.
“You can’t have any? Or is it that you don’t want to marry?” Susan asked.
“I marry once. I tell you that.”
Dia shot him a quick glance. That was news to her. Nico looked pensive. His lips were clamped tight. He toyed with the moisture on the outside of his drink glass.
“We couldn’t have the babies. It was my problem.”
“Oh.” Susan leaned closer.
“She left—”
“But didn’t you go after her? You could have adopted.”
“Hey, boys, come dance with me.” Dia looked back at the dance floor. She’d even do a slinky dance with the young Lothario if she could get his attention. Anything not to overhear this conversation. She showed a little extra leg but for once there were no takers.
“No. No. Not adoption for her. She must have her own bambino.”
“Do you miss your wife?”
“Not at all. It was long ago. But one day.” He took Susan’s hand and kissed her fingers. “One day I will marry again.”
Okay. Enough. Dia grabbed her purse. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Then I think we should call it a night.” She hurried down the hall, glancing back once to see them staring into each other’s eyes, oblivious to everyone in the room.
A short while later they were back at Ventimiglia. Dia said goodnight and scurried inside, kicking off her shoes, and dropping her purse on the table. Scooping up her laptop, she flopped onto the bed. She decided against an immediate email check. She hurried to change into pajamas and wash her face. Most evenings they had come home to dine with the ladies up at the big house, but tonight they did everything in reverse. It was always hard to drag Susan away from the ladies after dinner, so Dia had gotten into the habit of going back to her place to wait for Carlo to wake up so they could talk.
They’d Skyped several times. But she preferred their emails.
They were private.
****
The following morning, sun beat through the windows because she’d forgotten to close the blinds. Dia blinked hard and winced. She had the slightest hangover headache from last night. Her whole body was stiff and sore. So much for being a nightclub frequenter; her days of dancing until dawn were well and truly over. She smiled ruefully, made her way to the kitchen and fixed the coffee while downing several glasses of water.
She stood, cup in hand, while taking in the view through the closed terrace doors. Sadly, they only had two days left here. Today Nico planned on taking them by motorboat to a small beach called Punta di Spanu on the northerly point of the Bay of Calvi.
Dia finished the coffee, hustled around as much as her headache would allow, and dressed. She packed her beach bag, grabbed sunglasses, and hurried to Susan’s house. Nico was already there, lounging in a chair on the terrace, his feet propped on the railing.
“Good. You are ready,” Nico said.
“Yeah, the beach trip is a fine idea,” Dia said. “I can catch up on my sleep.”
He looked no worse for wear after their night out. She shook her head in disgust. She felt like an old b
lanket that had frayed at the edges. Just looking at Nico made her irritable. She tossed her bag onto the small table. Knowing she was striking a combative pose, Dia fisted her hands and shoved them against her hips. She leaned her back against the railing, so he would see her.
“I’m looking forward to this trip, but Susan told me it’s going to be all day, and into the evening.”
“Si.” Nico dropped his legs from the railing and jumped up. “Is a problem?”
“No.”
“Your Carlo, he expects for you to be home?”
“No. It’s nothing like that…just…well, when do we go to the gate?” Dia asked.
Susan came out to the terrace her beach bag in hand. She frowned from Nico to Dia. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. No. Dia is asking to the gate.” He took off his sunglasses and leaned in toward her.
Dia moved back a bit. Nico flashed his charming smile. “I will take you Monday morning. I promised, remember?”
Dia nodded, feeling guilty for having questioned him. He had said that. But for the past few days she’d wondered if the gate even existed. Every time she mentioned it the conversation had taken another direction. “I just didn’t want you to forget, or—”
“I could not forget. Is tradition.” Nico spread his arms wide, and grinned. “You must go as you leave the island. It brings more luck. Did I not tell to you that part?”
Dia shook her head. He hadn’t, had he? “Oh, like the fountain in Rome?”
He snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”
Susan walked over and touched Dia’s arm. “You’ll get your wish. You’ll see.”
Nico clapped his hands. “Now, no more worry. You will make the wish, and you will get the answer.” He winked at Susan. “You will be making the wish too, Susan?”
“Yes.” She lowered her gaze. “Yes.”
“Is it far? I mean, will it delay our departure on Monday?”
“You worry too much, Dia. No, is close.” Nico gave a tiny wink.
Okay. So, it’s close. But the whole island was only 130 miles long and fifty miles wide.
What did close mean? She’d been secretly eyeing every gate they’d come across, wondering which one was the lucky one. If she knew where it was, she could sneak off and make a wish all by herself. Not that Nico would approve of that. Besides, he knew all about how the legend worked. She’d have to trust him.
