It sounded like a good, solid plan and when Kate had expressed her contentment with the arrangement, they finished their coffees, Shauna throwing one last hungry glance at Luca as he polished the shop counter, and then walked back to the office to pick up Shauna’s car.
‘Mr Richards is our buyer,’ Shauna said as she unclipped her seat belt. ‘Not Keith or Cliff, I’m afraid – I think he’s an investment banker. The vendor is in America at the moment and can’t get away to come and show the property herself, but that’s what we’re here for anyway.’
Kate stared up at the house as she climbed from the passenger side of the car. ‘Wow!’
It was smaller than the villa Lucetta had held her wedding reception in, and the classical architecture boasting ivory stone and wedding cake columns had been interspersed by huge panes of glass that almost formed walls themselves. Steps led up to the main house from the road, and a gated driveway to the left swept around to what Kate presumed was the back of the house. As Shauna had parked outside the main entrance instead of taking this road, Kate had to guess that the gates were locked.
‘It’s rather lovely, isn’t it?’ Shauna agreed. She rifled in her handbag and produced a vast set of keys. ‘Now then,’ she murmured, examining each one in turn. They all had tiny white labels on them bearing letters of the alphabet. ‘Aha!’ Shauna said, singling out one that bore the mark FD. ‘Front door. Ingenious, eh?’
Kate smiled. ‘Simple and effective.’
‘It’s simple alright. I’m not sure kindly labelling the keys for a potential burglar is a good idea, but I suppose the vendor thought I’d be the only person who would have possession of them.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘So let’s hope we don’t lose them, eh?’
‘Are we leaving the car here?’ Kate asked.
‘For now. I don’t want to unlock too many doors and gates if I can help it – it’s asking for trouble as I’m likely to forget to fasten them up again and you never know who might be snooping around, ready to take advantage while we’re showing the client around. Best to keep it simple if we can.’
‘See, I’m learning already. I’d have opened up the gate and driven the car right in.’
‘It’s experience, darling. Nothing more and nothing less. You’ll get there eventually.’
Kate followed as Shauna made her way up the steps. ‘It’s been empty for a little while now. I like to come in and air the place before a viewing, make it nice and fresh.’
‘Has it been on the market long then?’ Kate asked, surprised that such a beautiful house hadn’t been snapped up as soon as it went up for sale.
‘Six months. If you’re going to spend a million plus euros for a house, you’re going to make damn sure it’s perfect for you. It’s like choosing someone to marry – you have to fall completely and utterly in love before you commit. We’ve had a few viewings and most flirted with it, some even went as far as a kiss and a cuddle, but nobody has fallen for it yet.’
Kate laughed at the analogy. ‘That’s an interesting way of looking at it. I won’t forget that advice in a hurry.’
Shauna unlocked a front door of heavy honey-toned wood with delicate wrought-iron panels inlaid upon frosted glass. It swung open to reveal a vast lobby, the floor tiled with rose-gold stone, simple cream walls and a sweeping staircase of wood and black iron. Three of the walls had wooden doors leading to various other rooms, apart from one, which was almost entirely glass, allowing sunlight to flood the space. There was a slight odour – that peculiar, unnameable smell of somewhere unlived-in – but considering it had been empty for some time, it wasn’t as musty as Kate would have expected.
They set about opening doors into each room, making a quick check of the contents, opening blinds and curtains and letting the air in. Shauna swept her finger along the surfaces to make sure that the maid the owner had employed to come in and clean once a week was doing her job.
Each room was the epitome of taste and wealth. The living room was dressed in sumptuous creams and slick Italian leather, with vast windows overlooking perfectly manicured lawns that stretched the length of at least two football pitches. Not that Kate had much idea what size a football pitch was, but it seemed to be a go-to unit of measurement on any news report she’d ever read that included the size of some grounds or other. The kitchen was gloss white and chrome, the look sharpened by the addition of slate-grey walls, and it was bigger than her entire flat. Every bedroom had an en suite (and there were six), each beautifully finished. From the window of the master bedroom, Kate looked across the grounds to see that beyond the lawns and immaculate flower beds was a grove of olive trees. Kate had only ever seen houses like this on TV or in magazines, and she could barely imagine the sort of person who could afford this. He’d be someone debonair and handsome for sure – a self-made millionaire with a sharp suit and an even sharper intellect. He’d look right through you, a piercing flinty gaze, and he’d have the measure of you in an instant. She almost fancied their buyer would look like Daniel Craig or some other rugged film star. She couldn’t wait for him to arrive to find out more.
Shauna called from the bottom of the stairs. ‘All good to go up there? Our client is here; I’ve just seen the car pull up!’
‘Yes, all fine!’ she called back, racing from the bedroom and down the stairs. At the bottom she stopped, straightened her dress and smoothed her expression into something she thought looked reserved and professional, even though she was bursting with curiosity about the man who was coming to view the house.
‘I’ll go and get him,’ Shauna said. ‘Wait here for a minute.’
Kate nodded and watched as she strode out of the front door. A moment later she returned with Mr Richards. If Kate had been expecting a suave, handsome playboy, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Mr Richards would have struggled to reach her shoulder. He was almost as round as he was tall, with a head like a boiled egg but he had a quick, shrewd expression that made Kate think he might be a bit of a wizard in the boardroom. If he’d made enough money to buy this house, she’d bet he’d made it with his wits.
‘This is my colleague, Kate,’ Shauna announced. Kate stepped forward to shake his hand.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
His grip was firm and he broke into a good-humoured smile. ‘The two-pronged attack, eh? Two lovely ladies trying to persuade me this is the house for me.’
‘Kate has just joined us,’ Shauna said. ‘In fact, today is her first day, so she’s with me to get a feel for the job.’
‘I recently moved to Rome,’ Kate said. ‘From Manchester.’
‘You’re planning to stay permanently?’
Kate smiled. ‘That’s the idea.’
‘And you like it?’
‘I love it.’
‘Well, that’s a recommendation,’ he replied approvingly. ‘My wife isn’t really sure about this and she kicked up a stink about coming over to view – hence the fact I’m flying solo today.’ He let out a phlegmy chortle. ‘I have a feeling at some point we’ll end up back in England and renting this out, but I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery for a year or two.’
Kate wondered why he was here viewing the house if his wife hadn’t wanted to come. Did it make him arrogant enough to assume that she’d fall into step with his wishes? Or did it make him a bully who would force her to move? Or perhaps they would simply work out an agreement that suited them both. She had a feeling that this sort of puzzle would probably present itself quite a bit as she got to know more clients, and it was something that would drive her mad with curiosity. But she would have to be curious for now in the case of Mr Richards – at least if he didn’t volunteer the information – because it was a question that she definitely couldn’t ask.
His gaze turned to the stairs, and as he examined them, looking equally impressed with the entrance hall, Shauna gave a surreptitious thumbs-up to Kate.
‘Would you like to begin the tour?’ Shauna asked him.
‘Very much so,’ he replied, t
urning and fixing his gaze on Kate. ‘And Kate here can tell me all about how she’s settling in to life in Italy.’
‘I’m sure she’d love to,’ Shauna smiled. ‘Wouldn’t you, Kate?’
‘Um. . . of course.’
Mr Richards regarded Kate with that same shrewd look he had worn when he first arrived, and it was somehow as if he was x-raying her soul. Guessing at the details of his personal life was one thing, but sharing the details of her own with him was quite another. It was going to take some careful editing if her private life was going to stay just that.
‘Three very good viewings today, I think,’ Shauna announced with a tone of deep satisfaction as she pored over her diary. They were back at the same coffee shop they’d visited that morning, sitting outside even though the sun was low in the sky, the approaching evening bringing a distinct frost to the air. Shauna had been disappointed to see that her favourite barista was not on duty and had decided to catch the last of the day instead, not really giving Kate a choice on the matter.
Kate reached for her coffee cup and took a sip, her gaze distracted by two women who had just arrived. One of them looked eerily like Orazia, though she had gone through to the main shop before Kate had a chance to look properly. She was beginning to think she might need professional help to address the unhealthy paranoia she was developing about that woman. Shauna looked up as Kate failed to reply.
‘You’ve enjoyed today?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Kate said. ‘It’s been brilliant.’
‘You think it’s something you might get on with? The clients certainly seemed to warm to you. I think you’re quite a natural and open person, and that’s good, because most of them can see right through bullshit. As far as Mr Richards goes, I think his decision to buy definitely had a lot to do with hearing how you’d settled in Rome – so bravo to you. Pretty much your first sale – although you know I won’t be able to pay you commission on that as you’re not technically employed by us yet,’ she added by way of half apology, half warning to Kate not to expect a share of the commission no matter how instrumental she might have been in securing the sale.
The comment passed her by, however, and Kate was more occupied by the recollection of how keenly Mr Richards had questioned her on the particulars of her moving to Rome. She had tried to be sparing with them, but he’d had a way of getting information from her that she hadn’t wanted to give. Shauna was uncannily accurate in her observation of Kate’s character, but openness was one trait that she perhaps ought to work on putting away while she was showing prospective buyers around. Or anyone else, for that matter.
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I think I’m going to like working with you.’
‘Brilliant!’ Shauna took a slurp of her coffee. The cup went back into the saucer with a clatter and she slammed the diary shut. ‘Well, I have a hot date with a meat and potato pie. You can rave about the food here as much as you like – and nobody loves it more than I do – but sometimes a bit of British stodge is what you need after a long day. I have to make the damn things myself, of course, but once you get used to making them it’s like second nature. You’ll be OK to get home from here?’
Kate nodded.
‘So I’ll see you at the office tomorrow morning then? Same time as today?’
‘Yes.’
Gathering up her diary, pen and phone and stuffing them into her handbag, Shauna gave Kate a bright smile before marching off. Kate watched her go. There was a woman who knew who she was and where she was going in life – who was comfortable in her own skin and confident in her abilities. If only Kate could steal a little of that from her right now, because she felt none of those things. Where Shauna had been pleased with Kate, Kate had sometimes felt awkward and conspicuously like a spare part, following Shauna and her clients around with nothing much to say apart from answering questions about her own meagre experience of living in the city when asked. She hadn’t lied to Shauna about enjoying the day, but she couldn’t yet say whether the job was a long-term prospect for her.
She looked at her watch. She’d finished much later than she’d anticipated, and she’d had to ignore a call from Alessandro, sending a brief apologetic text that she couldn’t talk as she was still working and would phone back when she could. But by now he would be on his way to work and wouldn’t be able to talk either – at least not for a few hours. The idea made her feel strangely empty. Over the months she had come to rely on his counsel and opinions more and more, and he was a good listener. Not today, though.
Draining the last of her coffee, she collected her bag and began to make her way home. She recalled seeing a bus stop a few blocks away, and hopefully she’d be able to work out a route from the timetable, or someone at the stop would be able to help. The idea of trying to communicate her needs with her very rudimentary Italian wasn’t a thrilling one, but sometimes it was necessary and, as Alessandro kept reminding her, doing it regularly would build her confidence, which, in his opinion, was really her biggest barrier to learning the language. She had a feeling he was right, though it was difficult to admit.
She had barely got to the corner of the road when she caught her phone ringing from within her bag. A smile lit her face as she saw Lucetta’s name on the screen.
‘Ciao, Kate!’ she greeted airily. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Right now? Walking!’
‘Why are you walking?’ Lucetta asked, and she sounded so genuinely mystified that Kate had to laugh.
‘Because I still can’t afford a car and I need to get home.’
‘Mamma is cooking dinner. She wants you to come.’
‘She’s cooking?’ Kate frowned. Signora Conti’s idea of cooking dinner was three hours’ hard graft in a steamy kitchen, unlike Kate, who considered making beans on toast a culinary feat. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s only just got back on her feet from her illness and I don’t think she should overdo it.’
‘You should try to tell her that. She will not listen to us.’
‘I might be a while yet, but I will come if only to tell her off,’ Kate said, secretly happy to have been invited. Sometimes she was content to sit quietly in her flat alone in the evening, but sometimes it felt very big and empty. She had a feeling that tonight would be one of those nights, and if she couldn’t have Alessandro, at least she could have the next best thing. ‘Will Maria be there?’
‘No,’ Lucetta laughed. ‘Not tonight. She is going to her husband’s mother for dinner. We will hear about it tomorrow because she hates her. So you have no need to worry.’
It wasn’t a huge leap of the imagination to see that could well be true of most people in Maria’s case. ‘Sorry,’ Kate said sheepishly. ‘She just makes me feel a bit. . . well, you know, it can be awkward trying to talk to someone who doesn’t like you much.’
‘Kate. . . she does like you.’
Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘She has a funny way of showing it.’
‘You will see one day soon. She likes you as well as we all do. But she is stubborn.’
Stubborn hardly begins to cover it, Kate mused.
‘When will you come?’ Lucetta added.
‘It depends on the buses. I don’t suppose you’d know much about which ones to catch?’
‘Pah! I never take the bus!’ Lucetta snorted, and Kate could just picture the look of absolute derision on her face. ‘They smell terrible, and they are too slow! Tell me where you are and I will come for you in my car.’
Kate could have put up all sorts of arguments for independence, but she was just too tired and grateful for Lucetta’s offer. If she was honest, she was quite looking forward to one of Signora Conti’s divine meals too, despite her misgivings about the old lady’s fitness levels.
‘You’re a star!’ she smiled.
‘I know,’ Lucetta replied.
Talking through a mouthful of artichoke should have been incredibly unattractive, but the way Gian looked at his new wife as she did this, fork waving in t
he air as she gesticulated crazily at Kate, anyone would have thought she was bathing delicately in asses’ milk. Clearly, the honeymoon phase was far from over, and he was just as enamoured with her as his wife as he had been with her as a girlfriend. Kate had wondered whether Lucetta had saved herself until marriage, as their mother would have wanted her to, but, of course, it had been a question too delicate to ask. If she had, then perhaps it was all the rampant sex they would be enjoying now that God was giving them free rein that was making him look so soppily at her.
‘Your dress is beautiful,’ Lucetta said. ‘Did you make it?’
A Wedding in Italy: A feel good summer holiday romance (From Italy with Love Book 2) Page 16
