“Fascinating,” Sofia said. “I didn’t know any of this.”
Adriano put his hand on her shoulder. “Well, this is now your hometown as well, so you need to know.”
Sofia nodded, then added with a sigh, “I hope I can make it my home. At least my second home.”
“You will,” Adriano said. “But let us go to the tourist office.”
Inside the small building, they met an older woman who told them that the closest rental car agency was in Cecina near the coast.
“We shall go there after meeting the family. It is not very far from here,” Adriano said. He glanced at his watch. “We have time to walk through the town, if you wish.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Sofia said.
They strolled leisurely through the narrow cobblestone streets with its small shops, a bakery here and there, and a rustic restaurant next to homes. It smelled of coffee and some kind of herb, was it basil or oregano? The sounds of laughter and talking gave the town a lively atmosphere. Most of the people appeared to be locals, young and old women and men. Children were running through the streets playing. They all seemed to know each other, there were constant greetings of “ciao.” Sofia asked herself if she would ever be accepted as one of them.
They’d just turned a corner when she heard a young voice calling “signor Gori.” Adriano and Sofia turned around and Sofia’s breath caught. A young girl waved and came hurrying toward them. She had long wavy chestnut-colored hair and wore a dark-pink skirt and black top.
“It is Julietta,” Adriano said. He touched Sofia’s back lightly as if to reassure her. But he didn’t need to tell her who it was.
PART THREE: THE ITALIAN SISTER
Chapter 9
Sofia recognized the girl right away. She was a younger version of herself. As soon as Julietta noticed Sofia, she stopped short, stared at her, then her face lit up and she cried “Sofia.” She began to run again, then flung herself at Sofia and threw her arms around her. She greeted her with a gush of Italian words, of which Sofia only understood the term mia sorella, my sister.
Julietta’s enthusiastic embrace almost made Sofia stumble. Overwhelmed by her half-sister’s exuberant welcome, she hugged her as well, then stepped back a little. Searching for a few words of Italian to greet her new sister, all she could think of was “Ciao, Julietta.” On the one hand, she was relieved that Julietta seemed genuinely happy to meet her. At the same time, she couldn’t muster the same joyful excitement yet. It was all too much, too soon, and confusing.
Julietta seemed to feel Sofia’s reluctance. She let go of her and the two sisters looked at each other quietly for a few seconds. Like Sofia, her sister had inherited most of Henry’s facial features—his firm chin, his wide open face, and his purple-blue eyes. She seemed to also have the tall figure of the Laverne side of the family. She was a little bustier than Sofia and her hips were a little rounder. The most noticeable difference was her darker skin color and her long chestnut hair that flowed in waves down her back. She must have inherited the reddish-brown hair color from her mother’s side whereas Sofia had her father’s light-brown hair, streaked with blond.
These thoughts tumbled in bits and pieces through Sofia’s mind. The next moment, Julietta’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish Papa was here. I miss him so much.”
The shock of hearing Julietta referring to Henry as her papa and the girl’s sadness brought back the pain of his passing and the turmoil his secret life had created. Sofia felt tears flooding her eyes and she searched her purse for a tissue. A cloth handkerchief appeared before her face and as she grabbed it and looked up, she saw Adriano’s face and his kind and now misty eyes. Julietta hugged her again, gentler this time, and Sofia inhaled a light jasmine scent.
She felt hands gently tapping her back and realized that a small group of men and women had gathered around them. Some of them seemed to know Julietta. They hugged her and laughed, then hugged Sofia and murmured “benvenuta, welcome.” They motioned at a small bar and coffee shop nearby where someone was waving. Still half-dazed, Sofia felt herself being led into a room where it smelled of coffee and freshly baked goods.
They sat at a small table and cups of coffee appeared in front of them as well as a cup of hot chocolate for Julietta. Tears had dried and Sofia had somewhat recovered from the shock of meeting her sister so unexpectedly. She took a deep breath and listened to the enthusiastic voices around her. She understood very little but she couldn’t help being affected by the joyful atmosphere.
It was a happy occasion after all, un’ occasione di festa, as everybody seemed to call it. Two sisters meeting for the first time. Sofia was moved by the warmth of the people around her. They didn’t know her but seemed to accept her as one of them. She was the long-awaited American sister of Julietta, of the girl whom many in this small town seemed to know and love.
Now Sofia was able to look at Julietta more closely. Her sister was an attractive young girl, not pretty in the girlish sense, but strong and striking. She would be a beautiful woman. Sofia wished she had a little more of Julietta’s roundness in the right places. She always felt she was too thin.
A lively conversation in both Italian and English developed and Sofia was surprised how many of the people spoke at least a little English. She felt embarrassed for her lack of Italian and decided to take the time to study the language. Perhaps Julietta, who seemed fluent in both, would teach her.
Half an hour later, Adriano called the waiter. Sofia wanted to pay but someone had already taken care of the bill. “Grazie mille,” Sofia said, nodding at everybody, “molto gentile.” It was one of the few Italian phrases she knew. They all acknowledged her with a smile.
“You can drive with us,” Adriano said to Julietta as they got ready to leave.
“I have my bicicletta with me,” Julietta said.
Adriano shrugged. “This is no problem. We can put it in the trunk.”
He put Sofia’s suitcase on the backseat, lifted Julietta’s bright-red bike into the trunk and secured the lid with a rope. They got into the car and drove the fifteen minutes on a small country road to the estate.
“Did you have a good trip?” Julietta asked Sofia.
Sofia nodded and smiled. “Yes, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at her lively sister. For a few seconds, nobody said anything, but Julietta was obviously not the quiet type. She and Adriano began to converse in rapid Italian with each other.
As they drove around a corner, Sofia saw a sign with the name Podere Francesco Ginori. Before her and to the left and right, the vineyards with their neat, parallel lines of vines stretched into the distance and a cluster of small and medium-sized orange and yellow stone houses stood on top of a small hill. At the bottom of the hill was a group of larger buildings that looked like barns, storage sheds, and a stone building Sofia assumed was the winery. The houses were flanked by Italian stone pines and cypress trees.
“Is this it?” Sofia asked.
“Yes, we are here,” Adriano said. He drove his car up the hill to a fairly large house and parked in the driveway.
As soon as the car stopped, Julietta jumped out and rushed toward the house. As Sofia got out of the car, she saw a woman step outside who had the same longish, wavy, chestnut-colored hair as Julietta. Sofia guessed it must be Luisa. Julietta grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her toward the car. The woman said something to the girl and followed her. She faced Sofia with a measured look. “Signorina Laverne?”
Sofia nodded, then added quickly. “Please call me Sofia. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“My name is Luisa,” the woman said with a quick smile as they shook hands. “Did you have a pleasant journey?”
“Yes, thank you.” Sofia didn’t know what to make of Luisa. She was soft-spoken and friendly but lacked the warmth of her daughter. Then again, Sofia couldn’t expect the same kind of enthusiasm from her father’s former girlfriend as she experienced from her sister.
Adriano and Luisa greeted eac
h other with the formal signora and signor. Their behavior toward each other was polite and formal. Sofia noticed with relief that Luisa, too, spoke fluent English.
“Please come inside.” Luisa waved them toward the house, an old but beautiful Tuscan stone building with ocher walls. It was a two-story house with green shutters and a gray stone roof. Inside, it was pleasantly cool; the thick stonewalls seemed to protect the interior from the summer heat that had become quite intense by then.
Sofia had to adjust her eyes to the dark hallway that led to a staircase. The smell of cooking and the clatter of dishes told Sofia that the kitchen was close-by. Luisa opened the door to a large living room with solid wood furniture and a huge fireplace. The windows in the room were quite small but a floor-length glass door led to what looked like a patio. It was closed now and the shutter was half-way down, probably to keep out the midday heat. Near the glass door was a group of heavy easy chairs and a coffee table.
Luisa motioned them to take a seat, then said something to Julietta who left the room and came back a few minutes later with a big jar of what looked like lemonade. She was followed by an old woman, dressed in a longish black skirt, her gray hair covered by an embroidered black scarf. She looked like a woman out of an old-fashioned Italian movie. She carried a tray with sturdy-looking glasses, which she put on the coffee table, then glanced at Adriano and Sofia and murmured something that sounded like a greeting.
“My mother,” Luisa said, introducing the woman. Adriano, who had gotten up when the woman entered, greeted her politely with a “Buongiorno, signora.” The woman nodded but didn’t say anything and left the room, followed by Julietta.
“She can’t hear very well,” Luisa said, apparently trying to explain her mother’s unfriendly demeanor. She poured each of them glasses of lemonade, which Sofia gratefully accepted. Although there was no ice in it, it tasted cool, sweet, and refreshing. They sat for a while in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, which was interrupted when Julietta came back in, carrying a plate with an Italian pastry.
“I love these,” Sofia said as she picked one up. “They’re called biscotti right?”
“Cantucci,” Julietta said and sat down next to Sofia.
“Biscotti is the … how do you say?” Luisa wrinkled her forehead. “The general term for cookies which are baked twice. Cantucci is a type of biscotti with almonds in it. We usually eat them with vin santo, a sweet red wine,” Luisa said with a smile. “I thought you would be thirsty after your trip, so lemonade is better.”
Sofia nodded. She noticed that Luisa seemed to warm up to her a little. “I love your lemonade.”
“My mother made it,” Luisa said.
I hope she didn’t poison it. The thought made Sofia want to laugh out loud, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop laughing.
Adriano, who had taken a sip of lemonade, got up and walked toward the fireplace, which he seemed to study with intensity. After a while, he sat down again, took another sip of lemonade, then turned to Sofia. “Would you like to see your house? It is next door.”
“Ah, yes,” Luisa hurried to say. “Julietta can show you. We will eat in about half an hour, if this is okay with you?”
Sofia got up. “That would be great. I feel like freshening up a little.”
“I shall unload your suitcase for you,” Adriano said and followed Sofia and Julietta outside.
When she stepped into the courtyard, Sofia breathed a sigh of relief. It was hot outside but it was a welcome reprieve from the somewhat strained atmosphere in the house. Sofia wasn’t sure if the tension was mainly her own, but while Luisa was somewhat cool but pleasant, her mother had acted less than friendly. Perhaps the old woman was just a little odd, and her being somewhat hard of hearing may add to her behavior.
Adriano lifted Sofia’s luggage out of the car. He insisted on carrying her suitcase while Julietta grabbed her travel bag.
“We can walk. It is right around the corner.” Adriano pointed at a second house that became visible as they walked the short path past a small and what looked like old olive grove with its typical gnarled branches. The house next to a few stone pines was built in the same style as the main house, but it was smaller.
“Papa’s house,” Julietta said in a somber tone. “Now it belongs to you,” she added matter-of-factly.
Sofia glanced at Julietta. Did it bother her sister that Sofia owned it now? Julietta looked serious but not angry.
The house was lovely. The front door was solid wood topped by a stone arch. At the side of the house, the roof extended over a patio that was surrounded by a garden with sun flowers, a patch of dark-blue freesia, of red and yellow snap dragons, and a magnolia bush with white and pink blossoms.
“How beautiful,” Sofia exclaimed.
“It is very nice, indeed,” said Adriano.
“Who kept it up while my father wasn’t here?” Sofia asked as Julietta pulled out a large set of keys from her skirt pockets.
“I watered the plants inside and Alfonso works in the garden.” Julietta unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Alfonso is our gardener and he also helps with the grape harvest.”
They stepped into a small hallway with a wardrobe. Sofia’s heart clenched when she saw a jacket and a pair of boots that had obviously belonged to Henry. Once again, she was overwhelmed by the strangeness of her situation. Here she was, six thousand miles away from home, in a house she hadn’t known about that had belonged to her father.
The living room resembled the one in the main house, except it was smaller and the windows were larger. The house in general looked newer and had obviously been built later than the main house. There was a fireplace, a coffee table, brown and orange patterned easy chairs and a couch. Julietta opened a glass door and the shutter in front of it that led onto a patio. The sun shining into the room gave it a cheery feeling. An open doorway connected the living room with a modern kitchen. Next to a vaulted doorway was a dining table with a few high back wicker chairs Sofia had seen in some of the Italian restaurants. On the table was a large glass bowl full of fruit, a bottle of red wine, a jug of what looked like lemonade and a basket with bread, a hunk of cheese, a salami sausage, and a jar with olives. Next to it stood a vase with a colorful bouquet of flowers, seemingly from the garden.
“Wow,” Sofia said. “How nice. What a delicious spread and such beautiful flowers.”
Julietta smiled. “Mamma and I prepared it, to welcome you.”
“This is so kind. Thank you very much.” Sofia was pleased to learn that Luisa seemed to have made an effort to make her feel at home. Perhaps they could become friends after all.
Sofia immediately fell in love with the house. All the floors downstairs were made of irregular stone slabs of different colors, ranging from yellow to gray, light orange, and white, which gave the floors a mosaic-like quality. The stones in front of the fireplace were granite with flecks of mica.
While Adriano waited downstairs, Sofia and Julietta climbed the stairs to the first floor. There were four rooms upstairs—two bedrooms, and a room with a desk and a sofa-bed that looked like a study as well as a bathroom. The larger bedroom contained a queen size bed, a small table by the window, two chairs, an antique-looking chest of drawers, and a few lamps. Sofia felt a stab of pain in her chest again when she saw what appeared to be a men’s woolen sweater hanging at the closet door. It had obviously been her father’s bedroom.
The smaller bedroom looked like a child’s or young girl’s room. The bed was covered with a colorful bedspread and there were a few plush animals leaning against the headboard.
“This was my bedroom when Papa was visiting,” Julietta said. Her voice trembled and tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
Sofia felt sorry for her sister. It must be so hard for Julietta to have lost her father and now have her foreign sister take over. That’s why she had been surprised when Julietta welcomed her so warmly. Perhaps that had been a sign of her Italian temperament. Then again, she seemed a g
enuinely warm person. Sofia gently touched her arm. “It can still be your bedroom, if you want to.”
“Mamma wants me to stay in the main house, so you have privacy,” Julietta said with a shrug.
Sofia was just about to offer to talk to her mother to let her stay, then changed her mind. There would still be time, once they got to know each other a little better. Sofia wanted to be close to her sister but for right now, she indeed needed some privacy.
They went downstairs and joined Adriano who was sitting on one of the iron garden chairs on the patio. He got up and smiled at them. “You like the house?” he asked Sofia.
“It’s wonderful. I love it and look at the view.” In front of them and all around, the green hills, woods, and the fields of Vignaverde stretched into the distance.
“Well, I will leave you now so you can relax. Do not forget we will have lunch in about twenty minutes. Afterward, Julietta and I can show you your vineyards. And perhaps tomorrow, we can drive to Cecina and ask about the rental car.”
“That’s great. Thank you. So you’re going to spend the night here?” Sofia was happy to hear that Adriano wasn’t driving back the same day. She needed his presence. He was the only calming factor in this emotional upheaval.
“Not here, but nearby,” he said. “I have a friend in the next village whom I am going to visit.”
After Adriano and Julietta had left, Sofia took a deep breath and looked around the house again. She sat down in the living room by the open door that led to the patio and gazed at the landscape in front of her. It was quiet, no birds singing in the midday heat. There was a humming sound from far away, perhaps some agricultural machine. It smelled of dry grass and a mixture of jasmine from the outside and a scent of fruit from the bowl on the table. Sofia got up and put some of the perishable things, the cheese and the sausage, into the refrigerator, then took another stroll through the house. She carried her luggage upstairs, then stopped in front of the master bedroom.
The Italian Sister (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 1) Page 5
