“That makes sense,” Julia said, taking another bite of her food, letting the garlic and parsley stay on her tongue for a bit, filling her mouth with pleasure.
“You just need specialists to consult when you do this kind of work.” Daniel took another forkful of spaghetti.
“So that’s what you’d like to do. Is there a century you specialize in?”
“I specialize in late nineteenth and early twentieth,” Daniel said, moving the fork toward his mouth.
Julia watched with amusement as a long string of spaghetti slathered with tomato sauce slipped from his fork and dropped to the plate, briefly stopping on Daniel’s pristine white shirt.
She raised her fork triumphantly and pointed at the red splotch in the middle of his chest.
“Aha, tomato sauce. Like I said.”
Daniel looked in surprise in the direction of her fork, and his face reddened. “Bugger! Sorry.”
“No worries. I’m an expert at this.”
Julia took the butter knife and came closer.
“I beg your pardon?” Daniel tried to move away.
“Trust me. I need to scrape the gunk off.”
“Killing me in broad daylight with a butter knife?” Daniel grumbled but let her clean the sauce off.
Julia grabbed the salt shaker and poured salt on her palm. She bent over Daniel, dabbing the salt into the bright red spot. His chest was rock hard. “There, that should help. Do you have bricks under there or something?”
“Are you sure this will work?” He looked uncertain.
“It will help the stain not ruin the shirt, but it won’t disappear magically.” She grabbed the bottle of Pellegrino and poured some into her napkin. “One more thing.” She rubbed the stain in small circles with the napkin, until he took her hand away.
“It’s not working. You are making it worse, Texas.”
Daniel’s face was inches from hers, and he continued holding her hand. Her legs wobbled, but she couldn’t stop looking at his freshly shaven cheeks. His skin smelled of some very expensive lotion, and she had a sudden desire to run her fingers along his jaw. His breath quickened, matching hers. Julia almost tripped as she moved away.
Daniel cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I will get the bill, and we’ll go admire some balconies and stone arches they have in these tiny streets.”
As they left the square, Julia rushed into the labyrinth of back streets, as far away from Daniel and his scent as possible. It was easy to get distracted in this hill town. He was right, there were Renaissance treasures everywhere. “Just look at this one. Isn’t it so romantic?” she asked, taking photo after photo. “This is what I always imagined Juliet’s balcony looked like.”
“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefor art thou, Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,” he recited. “Although the real Juliet was from Verona.” He winked.
“I know, Shakespeare,” she said. “But let me imagine. Thank you so much for lunch and for helping me and Lizzy.”
“Not at all. I have to visit Mandy anyway, or I’d be in trouble.”
“I mean it.”
He stretched out his hand and squeezed her fingers gently.
It would’ve been great to spend hours in Orvieto with that warm feeling at the bottom of her stomach, watching the wind blow Daniel’s hair and the corners of his mouth stretch into a smile as he looked at Lizzy and then her. When she realized they were strolling down the hill to the parking lot, Julia was sadder than ever.
“Hold on a minute. I should change my shirt,” Daniel called out as they reached the car and she placed Lizzy in the back seat, arranging a T-shirt under her.
She sat down in her seat and tried not to watch as he removed the soiled shirt and flexed his muscles putting on a fresh white one. Was the man made of pure muscle?
“What, do you work out every day?” she couldn’t help asking as he sat down and started the car.
He blushed. “I like to stay fit.”
“I exercise too, but my body sure doesn’t end up looking like that. Never mind. How long before we get to Tuscany?” Julia asked as they started driving.
“About an hour and a half,” Daniel said.
They proceeded down the winding road, and Julia snapped a few more pictures from her window. Only a short while until Daniel dropped her off and she would be alone. She’d better find herself a place to stay. Perhaps one of those agriturismo farms mentioned in her travel book. They had to accept dogs. Her travel plan would still be fine. She’d find a place for Lizzy, then go to Florence, see the statue of David and other art, pick up her car, and drive to Lake Garda to search for the house with the cypress trees.
Her heart thumped faster, and she checked on the puppy, fast asleep in the back. Did she have to give her up?
As the scenery flew by faster, the lunch in Julia’s stomach felt heavy, and her body slumped increasingly in her seat.
“You keep fidgeting, and you look fairly tired. Why don’t you take a short nap?” Daniel suggested.
Maybe a nap wasn’t such a bad idea. She hadn’t slept last night, and today’s sun and alcohol definitely had gone to her head. “I’m going to close my eyes for a little bit, all right?”
“Go ahead.”
“Wake me up half an hour before Greve. There are lots of places nearby for me to stay, and I’ll find something quick,” she said, yawning and covering her face with a hat.
“Julia,” she heard a minute later, “time to wake up.”
“It’s only been a minute.” She grumbled, turned to her side, and planned to ignore him.
“It’s been an hour. We are in Tuscany. We just got off the Autostrade. It will be all wineries and hotels around us now, so you should be able to find somewhere to stay with no trouble.”
Julia reluctantly opened her eyes. “I wish I was less tired. I did want to see all the famous sunflowers and hills.” She stretched and looked back at her dog, who was standing up on the seat, sniffing. “What are you sniffing for, my baby?”
Then she noticed it too. “Is something burning?” she asked, sniffing the air.
“Burning? No.” Daniel shook his head.
She sniffed again. “I’m sure I smell burning. Like rubber or something.”
“Perhaps someone has a fire going.”
“No…” She gripped her seat. “Look!”
Black smoke flowed from underneath the car and left a trail behind them on the road.
Chapter 9
At first, Daniel believed it was Julia’s imagination, as she had just woken up, but he noticed the smoke in the rearview mirror as the clutch stopped responding. He slammed the brake pedal and struggled to stop the car as it slid dangerously toward the railing, threatening to plunge them into the valley below.
“What are you doing?” Julia screamed, gripping the handle on the side door.
“Trying to keep us from dying.” He steered the Fiat to the side of the road, then got out and gave it a push into the opening between two olive trees. The stench of burnt rubber overwhelmed the air.
“Are we on fire?” Julia asked, hurrying to remove her dog from the back seat and out of the car.
“I ruined the bloody clutch,” Daniel replied in a strained voice, staring at the car in dismay.
“The clutch is broken?”
“I burned it out.”
“What does that mean? I’ve never driven a manual.”
“It means I can’t get us up the hill to Greve, Julia.” Daniel pounded on the olive tree next to him, causing a shower of olives onto his head and shoulders. He should’ve never turned into Orvieto earlier; it was too much for this clunker of an automobile. He could’ve been at Mandy’s already, hugging little Mia. And now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, babysitting a tourist and a dog.
He looked over at Julia. She was petting her dog, whispering something to her.
“Is it okay?”
“Yes, Lizzy is fine. So can you adjust it or something? Tighten it
?”
“I’m an architect, not a mechanic. I haven’t learned how to mend cars. And a burned-out clutch can’t be adjusted. It has to be replaced.” He shook his head.
“We’ll just have to call for a mechanic,” she suggested, sitting down on the railing overlooking the valley.
“Oh, Julia.” Daniel sighed in exasperation. “This is Italy, it’s the afternoon, we passed the nearest town twenty kilometers ago, and there’s undoubtedly no one nearby who knows how to fix this thing. And this is a rental. I’m not meant to be fixing it.”
“Well”—Julia raised her brows—“you are not meant to be breaking it, either.”
Daniel glared at her, removed his clean shirt, opened the hood, and waited for everything to cool down. Then he bent down, sighing. “Fine, let me have a look.”
Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but he was no expert. There was some spilled oil. The burning stench singed his nostrils.
“What do you see?”
“Nothing I’d know what to do with. Probably a leaky seal of some sort that needs to be mended. I can’t see anything without getting underneath. I’m certain it’s the clutch that needs replacing. I need to arrange for a tow.”
He put his shirt back on, pulled a phone out of his pocket, and searched. “All right, there’s a mechanic listed in the town we passed. I’ll ring him.”
It only took a few minutes for Daniel to realize he didn’t possess enough Italian to convince the mechanic to come out tonight. The man was already at home, drinking wine in the coolness of his house. Bloody hell! Daniel clenched his jaw, but a minute later he had to kick the railing a few feet away from Julia, trying to control his temper.
“No good news?”
“He is happy to fix it. Monday. He’s already gone home for the day.”
“Monday? What about tomorrow?”
“He is off until Monday.”
“But what are we supposed to do? Is there another car rental place around?” She stood up and paced.
“Feel free to call him and ask.”
“Hey, no need to snap at me.”
“I’m sorry. Let me call my sister. Maybe she can help.” Daniel paced back and forth as he tried to explain the ridiculous situation to Mandy while watching Julia play in the woods with Lizzy. “Watch it,” he called out to her as Lizzy toppled over a thick log.
“Who’s that? Who are you with?” Mandy asked.
“A girl. A woman.”
“You sorted it with Jessica?”
“No.” Blood pulsed in his temples. “It’s over with Jessica. This is a different woman.”
“You hooked up with another woman? Are you serious? I have a sick child, and all you can think about is shagging?”
Daniel took a deep breath and tried to talk himself out of yelling back at his sister. “I’m not shagging her. I was giving her a lift. She is an American who got in trouble in Rome, and I promised to do her a favor. But now I broke the car.”
“I don’t believe you for even a second. You’ll never change, will you?”
“Mandy, I’m stranded on the side of the bloody road. Do you have a mechanic or not?”
“It’s Friday afternoon. No one will come out today to fix a car for you. Go find yourself a vineyard and have dinner, and I’ll send Gian to pick you up in a few hours.”
He sighed. “I’m not on a romantic holiday, Mandy. I just want to get to you and Mia. I’m sorry it’s taking so long. Can’t you come and get us?”
“I can’t drive out right now. Mia is sick, and there’s a farm to run and guest rooms to ready for everyone who is coming. I’ll send Gian as soon as I can.”
“Everyone who’s coming?”
“Mum’s on her way.”
“Fine. I will sit here and get drunk on Chianti and it will be all your fault, so don’t complain about it when you see me.”
“Like you need an excuse,” she huffed. “Call me when you are done, and I’ll send Gian.”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket. The throbbing in his temples intensified. What had he ever done to deserve this Italian disaster of a trip? Julia was oblivious to his turmoil, playing with her dog among the trees, her hair blowing around her shoulders.
“My brother-in-law will come get us some time later. Mandy suggests we walk up to the nearest vineyard for something to do while we wait. Should be dozens up here.” He wasn’t ready to tell her about Mia. It was private. His life was private. No matter how much he liked her.
“Your conversation didn’t sound as peaceful as you make it seem.” Julia raised her brows.
“Yeah, well, if you had a sister, you’d know how it goes.” He turned away, not wanting to discuss details. “So what about that idea? Taking a walk to find a vineyard.”
“I can think of worse options at the moment.” Julia pointed around them.
“Let me see.” Daniel tapped on his phone and turned to the right. “There’s one about five kilometers that way. Chianti Classico and food.”
“Sounds great. Let’s go.”
He was happy she didn’t blame him for the clutch disaster. He blamed himself enough. They strolled on the side of the road, the trees shading them from the late afternoon sun. He wasn’t hungry, but he could sure use wine.
“It looks so much like home,” Julia said.
“Really?”
“We have a road just like this. It curves through the hills and goes to the wineries and vineyards. You can go from one to another all day, as long as you can handle the alcohol. And we have the cypress trees, too.” She pointed at the rows of cypress they were approaching.
“What kind of wine can you possibly have in Texas?” Did grapes even grow in Texas? Wasn’t it a cactus-filled desert?
“Don’t be a snob. We have fantastic wine. It’s all kinds of blends of reds and whites. Many wineries have won awards. It’s not just Italian and French wines that are all the rage anymore.”
“We’ll see what you say after you try some Chianti Classico.” She did not understand what real wine tasted like, Daniel was certain. With some crusty bread dipped in fresh olive oil that came from a volcanic soil. His stomach growled. Maybe he was hungry, after all.
“You are on.”
She walked faster, and Daniel struggled to catch up, his face sweating. Did it ever cool off here? Thank God he could see the vines now. The winery looked familiar from a trip a long time ago. The winemaker had been a beautiful young woman who flirted with him as she gave him and two mates an extended tour. He’d drunk a lot of wine that day, staring at her breasts.
Julia read the sign. “Stefenello Winery. So is the wine here any good?”
“Superb.” He looked away. “I’ve tasted it before.” He hoped not to run into the winemaker as he opened a heavy black metal door to let Julia in.
The gravel road led to a familiar small two-story stone house covered with vines climbing up to the green shutters near the orange roof.
“We’re not too late, are we?” Julia asked, looking around the empty yard.
“Can’t be late to dinner in Italy,” Daniel replied, opening the door into the cool interior of the tasting room.
“Buona sera,” a cheery voice said, as Daniel followed Julia in. “Benvenuto a Stefenello. Mi chiamo Tiziana.”
“Vorremmo fare una degustazione, Signorina, per favore,” Daniel said. He was relieved. It was a different woman. A beautiful brunette, but not the one he remembered.
“Del vino ou del olio?” Tiziana asked, smiling.
“Del vino, per favore.”
Daniel turned to Julia. “She asked if we wanted to try wine or olive oil, and I told her wine. Is that all right? I assumed we’d have a tasting and then get food.”
“This is Chianti Classico,” Tiziana said, pouring rich burgundy liquid into tall glasses for them. “It is made from Sangiovese grape. See, it grows right there.” She pointed out the window.
Daniel watched Julia swirl the wine expertly, then take a small sip, closing her eyes
in pleasure. “What do you think?”
“Unbelievably good.”
“There’s something about the soil in this region, for sure.”
“I taste fruit. Berries?” Julia asked Tiziana.
“Yes, madam. Raspberries and cherries.” Tiziana nodded with approval. “Here, try this one. It’s Chianti Riserva combined with Cabernet Sauvignon. It has a deeper flavor.”
Daniel let the wine wash over his tongue, coating his mouth and gently sliding down his throat. Leathery taste, a hint of tobacco, cherries. He loved the depth and richness of Chianti.
Julia coughed. “It’s strong.”
“It’s well aged and rich,” Tiziana corrected with a smile.
“This is tobacco,” Julia said.
“Yes, you are correct. Any fruit?”
“Cherries.”
“You know your wines.”
“I’m from a wine region of Texas.”
“Oh, yes. There is now good wine in Texas. I have met winemakers from there. They make good blends of Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Julia gave a pointed look at Daniel, and he shrugged. Fine, so they made decent wine in Texas.
“Here, try our blend,” Tiziana continued. “It is Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot.” She cleaned Julia and Daniel’s glasses with water before taking a bottle from a drawer underneath the counter. “I want you to compare it to your wine.” She poured them each a sample.
“Quite a challenge,” Julia said. “It’s delicious. Like drinking a dessert.”
“You don’t find it too dry?” Daniel asked.
“Not at all. Let’s take a bottle to bring to your sister.”
“Not a bad idea. We’ll take one.” He paid for the wine. “You have dinner here, right?”
“Over there, in the garden. You’ll find a menu on the table.”
“Grazie.”
They shared a platter of fresh bread, salami, cheeses, and olives. He watched Julia eat the delicacies with pleasure, finding it almost more enjoyable to watch her than to eat himself. He was pleased she hadn’t thrown a fit about their situation. Any girlfriend he had ever had would’ve fallen apart, crying and blaming him for hours. Julia—she just drank wine and enjoyed her evening. She had a calming influence on him as well. He stretched his legs, allowing the wine to fill his stomach and relax his muscles.
The House by the Cypress Trees Page 7