Under a Tuscan Sky

by Karen Aldous

  Could this be what love was all about? Meeting someone who turned your life upside down in just a few hours? Could she be struck by someone so quickly and totally out of the blue? Would it be madness to ignore such a magnetic force and live life regretting she didn’t at least find out?

  As the plane parked, passengers stood and gathered their belongings, Alberto included, and as he lifted his arms to collect his rucksack from the overhead locker, she perused the lithe, slim trunk of his body, and wondered if she would regret not taking up his offer.

  He lowered his gaze, catching her again and triggering a further heat rush from her chest to her brow. Her skin pinked and licking her lips she said, ‘Well it’s been lovely meeting you. Have a good trip.’

  He bowed his head slightly and although appearing disappointed, forced a smile. ‘Thank you. You too, but I hope you make use of the number on my card. I think destiny has arranged our meeting today.’

  She clenched her fists, trying to reconcile her head with her heart. He was right: it was destiny, and obviously it was time she threw caution to the wind and had a bit of fun, wherever it took her. Before she could speak and agree, her conscience intervened again. She gritted her teeth. But what about remaining unattached and learning how to be totally self-reliant and independent? Yes, and miss the one opportunity to be with someone you really feel at one with.

  ‘You may be right,’ she told him, resisting a commitment.

  ***

  In extremely high spirits, thinking of the gorgeous Alberto, Olivia’s self-esteem had swelled to top level in just a few hours, even aiding her with her rusty driving skills. Apart from negotiating the first roundabout, she almost forgot was on foreign roads. She followed the satnav instructions with a new-found confidence, catching glimpses of the undulating hills and vined landscape as she drove along the Tuscan motorway and to the village for supplies first.

  Soon back on the winding roads and climbing round tight bends, it was only when she reached the grounds of Villa Elena that it dawned. It was possible that she was in love, or lust at least. She had felt Alberto’s presence beside her for the whole car journey and she felt elated. Olivia Montague may have found the man of her dreams.

  Following the driveway, she entered the gravel parking area in front of the villa, spotting the familiar figure of Nico, the farm manager, speaking to one of the groundsmen. The groundsman held a Strimmer in one hand and a set of earphones with the other. Nico waved and headed towards her car.

  ‘Ciao. Welcome again, Olivia. You have bags?’

  ‘Thank you, yes in the boot.’ She stepped out of the car and pressed the fob to open the boot, then reached across to collect her hand luggage from the passenger seat. Peering up at the villa, she sighed at its towering strength.

  It was a farmhouse really, but for some reason earned the title of villa. Three storeys high, built of local stone, and nestling so fittingly within its own hamlet of medieval cottages and farm buildings – now renovated for agritourism – among the sprawling vineyards and olive groves. It was a sight to behold and one she had barely appreciated in her youth. She loved the farm as a child, loved being able to run as wild as any beast, and enjoyed her time helping out.

  Now it appeared so organized and formal compared to the ruggedness she remembered as a child. Still stunning but in a different way. Nonna had secured grants to renovate and elevate the accommodation, which now drew in the tourists, the complex reorganized and kept to much higher standards.

  It was only the separate house – the villa, her grandparents’ home – which for some reason hadn’t yet been renovated. It had been maintained but suffered neglect compared to the complex and, yet, had so much potential if funds allowed.

  After kissing him on both cheeks, she smiled at Nico who was standing in front of the vines. ‘Lovely to see you again, Nico. Have you harvested the vines?’

  ‘You look – you see the fruit?’

  Olivia gazed more closely at the vines between the buildings, unable to make out the details. ‘I’ll take a look.’

  ‘Yes, we harvest two days ago.’ Nico shook his head. ‘Come. Gabriella make you something to eat first.’

  As they entered the main courtyard, Gabriella, with combed-back grey hair and wearing a navy trouser suit, walked towards them, the ruddiness in her face immediately warming. ‘Olivia, so happy to see you. How was your journey?’

  ‘Good thank you and, as you ask, quite different to the usual actually. I seem to have made a new acquaintance. A very charming Italian man who is keen to show me around Tuscany.’

  Gabriella’s kind eyes smiled and she reached out to hug her. ‘How very romantic. You go with him?’

  ‘I think I might call him.’ Blinking at her instinctive response, Olivia kissed Gabriella’s cheeks and wrapped her arms around her. ‘You look well. How is business?’

  ‘Is quieter now of course but we have a small party of artists. How are you?’ Gabriella ushered her towards the table overlooking vines drenched in afternoon sun.

  ‘Very well. I should be asking you. I expect you miss Nonna greatly?’

  Unwrapping a platter of assorted bruschetta, Gabriella’s lips tightened. ‘Very much I miss Elena. The farm is not the same. She was a very good friend to me.’ She bit her lip, then wiped an eye. ‘Your nonna’s wish would be for you to continue for her at the farm.’

  Olivia took an olive-paste bruschetta and bit into it, grateful for the tiny reprieve as the rich flavour of Italy burst on to her tongue. She swallowed the first mouthful. ‘My life is in England, Gabriella. Unfortunately, I know nothing about Nonna’s business. How could I possibly get into such a huge business with no experience? My mamma would know far more than me.’

  ‘Like your nonna, you learn, and me and Nico show you. You are a clever girl. If we have new owner, we don’t know if we like them or trust them.’ Her head rocked from side to side. ‘Nico and I are very worried.’

  Olivia’s chest rose as she felt the burden of guilt inside her. This was why her mother, Roz, should have been given the responsibility. It was the natural order of things. Nonna was wrong to leave it all to her. Her mother grew up here and understood the land and culture, and all that was involved in farming, maybe even the business. Although, she suspected, with all the changes, it was now as alien to Roz as it was to her.

  Finishing another mouthful, Olivia said, ‘Please don’t worry. You know I would select the new owner carefully and try to put in a clause or covenant that you and Nico are to remain. I can’t make guarantees. I really can’t tell what buyers are searching for. Not until the market is tested, but you and Nico will be my first consideration, I can assure you.’

  Gabriella pushed the plate of antipasto bruschetta in front of her. ‘I know you will do all you can. It’s just that I can’t imagine living and working anywhere else, not after almost forty years. Why don’t you spend some time here in Italy? We will do everything to help you. There are …’ Again Gabriella paused, sliding her fingers along her collar. ‘We will make it big family farm. Your nonna has meant for that.’ She slid down her hand down and rested it on her heart.

  ‘Thank you. You’ve been so loyal to Nonna. Of course she would want you here. In fact, there may be something in the legal pack. I don’t know until I go to see the lawyer. Mum said I should be able to meet up with him next week. Meanwhile, the property agent …’ she checked her watch ‘… who should be here soon actually, has a couple of people waiting to see it. Naturally, we need someone who will put their heart and soul into it, and, of course, have money to spend on the villa to renovate it and make it more habitable. I don’t know why Nonna didn’t spend more on her own comforts – maybe she didn’t have the money.’

  Gabriella glared at her, alarmed, then poured fresh coffee from the percolator. ‘Elena, your nonna, wanted it that way. She was comforted by familiar things: her family and her memories of Angelo. He was her life, what with …’ She paused momentarily in
silent thought. ‘You know your nonna would have loved you to have lived with her. She loved you so much and … I … although I don’t agree with her method, she had her reasons for making you her benefactor.’

  Sensing Gabriella’s unease and agitation Olivia only hoped it was possible to help her and Nico. She understood, but she wasn’t totally convinced she had the power to enforce the rules, though she would certainly try.

  ‘I will do all I can. I promise.’

  Olivia’s phone rang and she reached into her handbag.

  ‘Signor Ricci, yes. Very well, thank you. Yes. I’ve just arrived. I’m just coming. Oh, yes, Monday is fine. Yes, ten-thirty. Mr St. James, eleven, OK. Thank you.’ She pulled the phone away from her ear, then pushed it back again as the voice on the other end continued. ‘Yes, I remembered twelve-thirty. Signor Mas … You’d better spell that. Ah, Marcheschi. Thank you. Yes. Ciao.’

  Her mouth felt suddenly dry. The responsibility was all on her to find the right buyers, and she hadn’t had a chance to spruce the house up yet. She needed to ask the right questions. She had two already and had also agreed to time with Alberto tomorrow. Breathing out a small sigh, she placed the phone in her bag. If she worked really hard, she still had Sunday to give the house an airing and make it presentable.

  Nothing but several thousand euros was going to make too much of a difference to its appearance, but she certainly wasn’t prepared to do that. It had been a shock to discover the task Nonna had laden her with just a few weeks ago, and it was the reason she had felt the need to put the villa and business straight on the market.

  It was far too much for her to handle. The price of it had surprised her too. She had completely underestimated what her Italian grandparents had here. She took her phone back out and swiped the screen, adding the details to her ‘Viewers list’, slowly entering the spelling of the name correctly.

  Olivia glanced over at Gabriella who gazed at her with suspicion. She felt her body stiffen as she wondered if Gabriella really trusted her to do the right thing. How could she know what was right? There was nobody to ask.

  ‘Well, he’s coming along on Monday instead before the viewings on that day. I’d better get started,’ she told Gabriella, gathering her bags and feeling only able to empathize. There wasn’t much more she could do or offer to secure the couple’s future. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she told Gabriella and, lifting her chin, she marched out of the courtyard towards Nonna’s villa.

  She couldn’t allow emotion to dictate, nor feel intimidated. She would at least look like she was confident about managing her nonna’s affairs, even if she didn’t feel it. With any luck it wouldn’t take long. If you believed the media, hundreds of people would love to own a vineyard in Tuscany. She only had to find the right one and pray they retained the staff. Nonna seriously hadn’t thought this through – that much she knew. She should have left it to someone capable.

  ‘Yes, and just ask me. I am happy to help.’

  Still feeling wretched as she unlocked the door, Olivia placed her bags on a bench and, after scanning the darkness of the hall, headed for the main sitting room. The stale air immediately wafted up her nose, shocking her into opening shutters and windows, to allow the air and light to flood into the soulless room.

  It had been neglected since her nonna’s demise, which was terribly sad. Barely anything touched since she’d left it, four weeks ago, soon after her grandmother’s funeral. For as long as she could remember, Nonna had lived in just the ground-floor rooms of the large villa, whilst she was virtually running a sizeable empire up in these Tuscan hills. She’d run the farm and the vineyards on her own for years since Nonno died – with staff, of course, and managing to keep up with much of the technology.

  With Gabriella’s help, Nonna had made sure the accommodation had a professional website and an email address for bookings, as well as the telephone. Nonna had also told her they were on travel sites so that reviews and bookings were twenty-four seven. Olivia was in total awe that her nonna knew so much about it all.

  Her eyes rested on Nonna’s old leather chair. It was still covered with a red chequered shawl and two cotton-canvas cushions, and it sat forlorn by the fireplace appearing sulky without its occupant. Behind it was the beautiful bridal chest or cassone, which was Nonna’s pride and joy. Every visitor was told the story of her family’s chest. How her great-great-grandfather had created intricate carvings for each panel. It was very special to her.

  Olivia sat on the arm of the chair. Crossing her legs and wrapping her arm around the wing, she breathed a sigh. ‘Oh, Nonna, what am I meant to do? There’s the business that, in all honesty, goes way over my head. As much as I want to make sure Gabriella and Nico remain secure, it’s too much. I have a business and home in England. I just couldn’t cope with both. And, this man Alberto? Nonna, I can’t think straight. I mean, what happened today? Where did he come from? He was so … I don’t know how to say it in words. It was here.’ She clutched her stomach.

  ‘Immediately I loved his eyes, even though he wears glasses. And he has this geeky look, but his pheromones ate right into my skin. But – and this is the problem – I don’t know if I’m doing right by jumping from one relationship to another so quickly. I’ve always done it. Not feeling like this of course, no, this is quite different; but I hate that I just need to feel loved without ever really feeling it back. And I was so determined to actually experience total independence.’

  She buried her face in the arm of the chair for several seconds, squeezing her brow and equating herself to some mad person talking to herself. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

  Sitting upright, she stared down at the seat for several seconds as if waiting for an answer. She peered to the other side of the chair. The inglenook still contained ashes from a fire. The beam above held layers of dust, along with several photographs of Angelo; one of her mother, Roz; and two figurines: a couple dancing and an old man wearing a sunhat. Was that Angelo too? she wondered.

  At one end was a photo of them both in a gilt frame. Love emanated from their faces. Her mind flashed to Alberto’s face, and the moment of intense yearning between them. She took the frame in her hand and squatted on the hearth. A brush and poker lay flat in front of a woodpile and the rug was speckled with ash and slithers of wood.

  Memories of sitting on the rug watching her grandfather build a frame of kindling came to her, the flesh of his fingers fearlessly feeding the flames with increasingly larger chunks of chopped wood until he was rewarded with a spread of flickering fire and heat. She knelt on the deep pile of the rug, feeling a sudden wave of warmth on her skin and a familiar touch, as though her nonna’s hand was stroking the back of her hair. She felt comforted, assured even that they were there and supporting her.

  Minutes went by before Olivia stood and replaced the photo on the mantel beam.

  ‘I’d best get my phone and Alberto’s number, then get to work. There’s lots to do,’ she told the photograph firmly.

  ***

  At one-thirty the following day, looking taller and even more handsome and more clean-shaven than she remembered, Alberto stood at the villa door. Her whole body trembled.

  ‘Ciao, beautiful lady.’ He beamed and took her hand before stepping forward to kiss both her cheeks. ‘I was so happy you called me. I don’t think I could have lasted much longer waiting to hear your voice.’

  Without making too long a list of pros and cons, she’d carried out her promise, and producing a joyful smile, whilst trying to stay calm, she said, ‘Well, I’d pretty much made up my mind so I thought I should just do it. I’m looking forward to a tour. Step in while I lock up. What do you have planned?’

  With the ground floor sparkling from all her rigorous cleaning and polishing, she left him to follow her as she closed the shutters and windows in the kitchen and sitting room.

  ‘First we’ll drive around to take in just some of the finest Tuscan landsca
pe and then we’ll stop for lunch.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful.’ And so romantic, she wanted to add, but whilst she threw herself into scrubbing the floors this morning, she had promised herself that she would refrain from overloading her head with romantic notions and allow the relationship to gather its own momentum. She wouldn’t wish to reveal too much of herself at once and risk driving him away. She had done that too often and, in retrospect, must have sounded desperate.

  The windows finally locked up, she grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around her neck, her fingers quivering as he followed her out the door and watched her lock it. ‘OK, I’m ready to go.’

  He took her arm, and led her over to his car. Olivia’s eyes creased with curiosity as they approached the unusual compact car.

  ‘Don’t tell me. All electric?’

  He opened the passenger door, revealing a clean and simple interior. ‘Isn’t she great?’ he said straightening his glasses. ‘I can plug her in anywhere. Her charger is on the car. And I can go up to two hundred kilometres for every full charge, which costs about two euros.’ Olivia recalled the wording on the business card as she sank into the passenger seat. ‘EV. Right. Electric Vehicle. Impressive. More than a hobby then?’

  ‘You could say, yes.’ Alberto leaned on the door, proudly. ‘I’ve always been gnarly as far as saving energy is concerned, probably a bit of a nerd. I was three when my dad built my first electric racing car, which was constantly running out of charge even with a huge great battery pack on the back. So, it’s fair to say we’ve come a long way since. We have five models so far, which are selling worldwide. It’s exciting.’

  Running her fingers over the dash, she tapped it as she spoke. ‘That’s amazing. I imagine it’s very rewarding and I expect there’s a lot of resistance from petrol heads. Hats off to you, not only building the cars that will be a large part of the future but to have created demand around the world – just wow.’