The House by the Cypress Trees

by Elena Mikalsen

  “What was the problem with the plans?”

  “There was no problem!” Daniel said, much louder than he intended. “Sorry.”

  “So what was it they didn’t like?”

  “As I told you, it was too modern a design for them. They said it was ugly and the people of Rome would want to destroy it.”

  “That’s awful. So mean,” she said. “So what are you going to do? Do you know how to fix it?”

  “Yes. But it will take a team of well-paid architects working around the clock for weeks to fix this. And I hoped for a promotion.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s entirely mine.” Daniel took a jerky turn toward the speedway, and they left the city. The faster he could get away from Rome, the better.

  “Let’s not talk about my job, all right?” He turned the volume on the radio back up. Via Con Me blasted out, and he sang along.

  “Avoiding it will not make you feel any better,” Julia said, turning the volume back down.

  “Well, you don’t know me, do you? And it’s so stereotypical of Americans to want to discuss everything.” He was so furious now he wanted to stop and ask her to get out of the car. He couldn’t imagine driving with her for hours. At least, he had no further desire to kiss her.

  “Well, it’s stereotypical of Brits to pretend they don’t care to talk about feelings. And then they have such trouble with anger they have to bloody their knuckles. And Brits are the ones making all those sappy romantic movies.” She made a face and turned away from him.

  “It’s not that we don’t acknowledge feelings, it’s only that we prefer to take care of the issue rather than go on and on about how we feel about matters.”

  Julia pointed to the scabs on his right hand. “I see how you took care of your issue.”

  He sighed in exasperation. “You do not understand what it’s like to work with these people. You are—”

  “Yes, I know, I’m just a tourist, so I couldn’t possibly comprehend your complex business world.” Julia rolled her eyes.

  “It’s not that. But you haven’t tried to do a business deal in Italy, have you?”

  “No.”

  “They arrive late, they scowl at you during the presentation, they whisper to each other forever, they berate you for everything they hate in your proposal, and then they tell you flat out that people will wish to burn your building down and there’s no deal. There’s no way to negotiate with any sort of civility.”

  “What are your architectural meetings usually like?”

  “I do a quick presentation, answer questions, shake hands, and they sign the deal.”

  “Well, it would’ve helped to study Italian culture a bit.” Julia smirked at him.

  “I don’t need to study it. I spent all my summers here as a kid. At my uncle’s vineyard in Greve.”

  “And was your uncle Italian or British?”

  “British.”

  “Listen…” Julia folded her legs under her and turned to him. “It would help you to be a bit culturally sensitive. The Italians handle life differently. They’re a family- and relationship-oriented culture. You can’t make business deals here unless you have built a close relationship with them first. And their concept of time is different. They like to take things slow.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  “I’m from a similar culture and also a geography teacher.”

  “So you know about lakes and mountains and such.”

  “And cultures.” She giggled. “I also read my travel book.” She pulled a small book out of her purse and waved it in front of him.

  “I see your point, but I had a relationship with them,” Daniel said.

  “Over email?”

  He sighed. “What would you have done if you were me?”

  “Take them out to dinner. Score an invitation to their home. Spend a few days learning about their families, children’s names, all that kind of personal stuff. Maybe bring them gifts. Then they would think you belonged, and they’d accept whatever plan you proposed, or maybe at least negotiate. Also, you might google how they handle business negotiations. Maybe it’s very different from what you are used to.”

  Daniel thought her words over. “So what you are telling me is that I botched this.”

  “No, what I’m telling you is that there is a way to fix this. And easier than you think. Without redoing the entire project, or at least you might leave with a clearer idea of what they want. Otherwise, you might bring them another design they’ll reject as well.”

  Daniel watched the road for a while, counting trees and hills and mile markers. What if Julia were right? What if he didn’t need to tell Roger and the team he’d failed and they had to start over? Perhaps she was right, and he should go back to Rome next week and start over. Do the relationship thing she suggested. It sounded plausible.

  How great would it be if he could get it sorted? Maybe do more sketches, change the models, make the design more fitting with the ancient structures of Rome but still within the parameters of what the team designed. They could easily modify their plans. The budget wouldn’t change much if they used the same glass and marble, if they just needed to change the building’s outside structure.

  He picked up his mobile. “Call Olivia.” He turned to Julia. “It’s my assistant,” he explained.

  “Olivia, change of plans,” he said when his assistant’s perky voice came on the line. “I need you to do that thing where you get people to say yes to whatever you want. I need to take Signor Nicoli and the rest of the board out to dinner some time next week before I get back to London. Something trendy, something good.” He paused as she protested. “Yes, I know what they’ll say, but tell them it’s not to get them to approve the project. I want to hear their ideas some more, to make sure I have a good understanding of what they’d like and to thank them for still being willing to work with us. All right? I need to be off. I’m driving. Yes, sounds good. Oh, wait, one more thing, please send a quick email from me to Roger and the team. Tell them the board wanted a slight modification on the plans, but I’m handling it. No problem, everyone enjoy their holiday, something of that sort. Yes, fine.”

  “Thank you,” he said looking at Julia after he set his phone back down. “The truth is, I get no joy from building ugly modern buildings. I think the Italians were correct in rejecting my team’s plans. The cube structure I gave them was wrong. I realized that after we took that walk in Rome last night. It would’ve looked awful next to the Villa Borghese.”

  “Well, perhaps it was for the best, then.”

  “I think it ultimately was. As soon as I get to Tuscany, I’ll work on some new sketches.”

  Julia played on her phone, her hair gently falling around her neck. She was smiling as she looked at something on her Instagram. The sun shone on the curve of her neck, and he couldn’t stop staring. That desire to kiss her was back now. What was wrong with him? The car swerved, and he barely regained control.

  “Driving is not your thing, is it?” she commented, still playing on her phone.

  “I detest driving, and this car makes my pathetic skills worse,” he said. He supposed he needed to talk to her more, be nice. She had given him some very helpful advice. Possibly saved him from being sacked. “So what family do you have back in Texas?”

  “No real family, I suppose. My mother, my adoptive mother—she passed away in May. And my adoptive father sold our house and moved to the Valley, the Rio Grande Valley. That’s where all his family is from.”

  “No one else?”

  “Just me, all alone.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother. It all makes sense now.”

  “What does?”

  “Why you want to find your real mum.”

  “Barbara was my real mom. I’ve never met this Italian woman. Who is possibly a serial killer.” She laughed. “What about you?”

  “Fairly certain my mum might be a serial killer. My father passed away many
years ago. But I have a sister, Amanda. Mandy. That’s who I will see in Tuscany.”

  “How did Mandy end up here in Italy?”

  “She married an Italian, and they took over managing my uncle’s vineyard.”

  “Romantic.”

  “Practical. Gian’s family owned a competing winery, and now she owns part of it, too, and they manage both together.”

  “Do you come to visit them often?”

  “I should, as I own half the vineyard. I haven’t been in years.”

  “How can you not want to come to a vineyard in Tuscany? Sounds very charming.”

  “Well, I had enough of it as an adolescent, with my parents, when father’s firm closed for the summer holiday. But then I went to uni, and Father passed away, so there was no point. Mandy is different. She never had much love for a desk job. She was meant to live in the country.”

  “Does she have any kids?”

  “Yes. Two. My niece, Mia, is five. And I have a little nephew, Lucciano. He is only one.”

  “I love the country. My grandparents had a peach farm when I was little. I guess I should say my adoptive grandparents. But they passed away, and Mom and Dad wanted nothing to do with it. Mom was a teacher and Dad sold insurance. I still miss my grandfather’s peaches.”

  He turned to her. “So how is it you are a geography teacher who’s never traveled?”

  “I have traveled. I took my students on hundreds of travels all over the world. It helps to have a great imagination. But my mother was ill. If I went traveling, who would take care of her or my dad while I was gone?”

  He wondered how it came about that she became responsible to be a caregiver for her mother. But it was none of his business. “I was never great at geography,” Daniel mumbled.

  “You must be good at science and math to be an architect,” Julia said.

  “Not necessarily. I faked my way through uni and learned nothing until I got my first job.”

  “I didn’t learn how to teach until I started in the classroom,” Julia said. “I still shudder thinking of those early days of learning how to get teenagers motivated to learn.”

  They were well outside the boundaries of Rome now, and the scenery changed. Hills were growing larger on both sides. Houses clung to the hillsides, piled on top of each other, in eternal danger of falling.

  “Is this Tuscany?” Julia asked, lowering her window. “It’s breathtaking,”

  “Not Tuscany yet. We’ve crossed into Umbria,” Daniel said.

  “Umbria,” she repeated. “Sounds magical. Looks like a fantasy world.”

  “It is magical. Highly underrated. Most tourists rush to the Amalfi Coast or Tuscany and skip the peaceful beauty here.”

  “Wow, look at those castles up on the hills.” Julia continued to marvel. “Like little magical kingdoms. See that one up there?” She pointed. “There’s a tower in the middle and then a town all around.”

  “They’re even more impressive up close.” He thought for a moment and looked at his watch. The nearest town would be no farther than ten minutes away. And he was getting alarming sounds from his stomach. Daniel supposed stopping for a bit to eat lunch and stretch his legs would be nice, actually. He owed her for giving him advice about getting the museum project sorted. And he could still make it to Greve by the afternoon.

  “Let’s go visit one of those magical kingdoms,” he said, taking an exit.

  “Really?”

  “We could use lunch, and your dog likely needs a walk.”

  “Let’s do it.” She clapped her hands, and he felt the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

  Chapter 8

  Julia regretted her decision to get into Daniel’s car before they even left the banks of the Tiber River. She had concluded, that, despite his original helpful appearance, he was a grumpy sort of man. It puzzled her that he was so nice yesterday and even kissed her, yet today he was acting all standoffish, as if they’d never gone anywhere together last night. Maybe it all had something to do with the A-cup. Julia never did ask. It was none of her business, she reminded herself. He was only giving her a ride; he clarified that.

  What if he was one of those guys who had major commitment issues? Whatever kind of person he was, she’d only have to put up with him for a few more hours, and after that she’d be on her way. Her stomach somersaulted with anxiety, thinking of the potential freedom. She still had no plan for what to do when she reached Tuscany.

  She distracted herself by talking to Daniel for a while, and she thought she had maybe succeeded in showing him she was only being friendly and not coming on to him.

  Maybe Lizzy would be okay. She petted her on the top of her tiny fuzzy head. Speaking of Lizzy, it was a good thing Daniel had agreed to stop in one of these castle towns. Julia didn’t want to mention it, but a small puddle had formed under Lizzy, and it would be only a matter of time before he’d notice the stink. She tucked a few tissues from her purse under the dog, but she suspected it made little difference.

  Daniel took the next exit and, a few minutes later, they began a climb up a winding trail to the hill town.

  Julia read the signs. “Orvieto. I like the sound of that.”

  “Everything in Italy sounds fancy. It all looks the same once you’ve seen a few of these towns.”

  “You are just jaded. Look at this spectacular view.” Julia pointed to the valley sprawling below her window. “Ouch, my ears popped. We seem to be spiraling higher and higher.”

  “This town is perched high on a volcanic rock.” Daniel pulled into the parking lot and stopped. “It’s a bit of a climb from here, but it shouldn’t be too far to the top.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “I can’t remember for sure, as all these hill towns seem the same to me. But I think this one has a famous cathedral.”

  Julia carried Lizzy part of the way, then let her down. The dog was happy to pounce on the ancient uneven stones. It was a steep trip up the hill via the narrow medieval street, but Julia didn’t mind. The old stone houses on each side were in competition on who could make their doors and window shutters the most colorful, and she enjoyed the sight tremendously. It was sunny but not too hot, the flowers blooming happily on the windowsills.

  “Where are all the tourists?” she asked.

  “Not too many make it here. Umbria is not as romantic as Tuscany.”

  “Well, I’m glad to have this to myself. Oh, check this out. It’s so colorful.” They entered the main town square, and she found herself in front of a magnificent cathedral.

  “This is the Orvieto Cathedral. If you look up, you’ll see its three famous gables.” Daniel pointed, shading his eyes with his hand.

  “It’s breathtaking.”

  “It’s not bad.”

  They approached the front of the facade, examining the mosaics covering it, and then Julia sat on the pavement across the square, watching the sun glisten on the top gable.

  “How old is this cathedral?” she asked.

  “Well, it has some classic elements of the Gothic architecture. If you look to the side, you can spot the flying buttresses, and do you see the rose window in the middle? Where have you seen both elements?”

  “You are putting me on the spot a little.” Julia bit her lip, then exclaimed, “Notre Dame in Paris!”

  “Absolutely. Most cathedrals built around the twelfth to fourteenth century would have those elements. But it also has elements of the later centuries, like the frescos on the facade, so in the typical Italian fashion, they started the building in one century but kept modifying it over the years and improving the design.”

  “So fascinating.”

  “Yes, it is. Wait till you see the Duomo in Florence. Did you want to look at the inside?”

  “I’m actually really thirsty. Do you smell oranges?”

  “Oranges? Probably lemons. Everything in Italy smells like lemons to me.”

  Julia looked around the square surrounded with restaurants fille
d with people drinking large glasses of liquid filled with oranges.

  “There.” She pointed.

  Daniel got up to look. “Oh, it’s that orange spritz everyone is so fond of. It will go well with a bit of lunch.”

  The spritz was as refreshing and sweet as it looked, and Julia finally relaxed, letting the flavor spread across her tongue. Lizzy curled up in the shade of the table and enjoyed a drink of water. Julia admired the lively twisting cobblestone streets stretching down from the cathedral’s square in all directions, filled with shops selling pottery and souvenirs.

  “What a pretty town,” she said, sipping her drink and taking a bite of her linguine. “Thanks for stopping here.”

  “I’m glad we stopped. It’s been beautifully preserved.” Daniel rolled his fork in the spaghetti and took a bite. “Oh, this is superb.”

  “It is. This town is a secret gem.”

  “I studied Umbria when I learned architecture. So many wonders here. There’s a Renaissance well here, if I remember correctly.” Daniel checked on his phone. “Oh, yes, St. Patrick’s Well. It’s one hundred seventy-five feet deep.”

  “Must have taken forever to dig that in ancient times.”

  “Yes, can you imagine?”

  “If you like ancient buildings, why do you do modern architecture?” Julia asked.

  “I was recruited by a top firm when I was finishing architecture school, and they’ve been happy with my work. Well, until now.” Daniel smiled and took another sip of his wine. “My father did architectural preservation, and I guess that’s what I thought I would do, when I was in school. But you go where the work is, so I stuck around. The boss and I happen to be good mates, too.”

  “What is it that you do when you are in architectural preservation?”

  Daniel’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so many things. For example, preserve the character of old buildings during renovation. Let’s say you buy an old building and wish to make it more comfortable and energy-efficient, yet wish to keep its original character. That’s where the preservationist comes in. We add new insulation to the roof to help guard against heat transfer, and we make improvements to allow more natural light into the building or better heating or whatever is needed. Yet the building keeps its original architectural elements, doors, and windows.”