A Villa in Sicily: Olive Oil and Murder

by Fiona Grace

  She opened the message and read: Hey babe.

  Ugh. What about their last interaction made him think she was even remotely interested? She hovered her finger over the “Block” button, but then decided that the last part of this story hadn’t been written. And every story deserved an ending.

  She typed in: What do you want?

  Immediately, he responded with: Kim and I are getting divorced.

  There was a shocker. She stared at that message for a long time before realizing it didn’t matter to her either way. A month ago, such news would’ve likely propelled her head-first into the coat closet for fifteen minutes she’d regret later. But now, she saw him for everything he was. Absolutely pathetic. Sorry to hear that.

  She watched the three dots and then: So let’s get together babe.

  She almost laughed aloud. And then she typed in: Sorry, I live in Sicily now.

  And then she blocked the number.

  She smiled triumphantly.

  She headed downstairs, about to inspect Mason’s work, when someone rapped on the door.

  Audrey was surprised to find G there with a small, wax-paper-covered bowl. He looked different without his apron or skull cap, his thick dark hair in tousled swirls on his head. Even more handsome. She almost didn’t recognize him.

  “Ciao, bella,” he said with a half-wave. “I felt bad about the way I spoke to you before. I was having a bad day and was short with you. I had to let go one of my servers and I was not in good mood. So I come to apologize. Brought you some ciambotta.”

  She clapped her hands excitedly. “I was dreaming of that! But … what are you feeling bad about? I don’t remember?”

  She did, actually, but it was her own fault for insinuating that he might be somehow involved in Fabri’s murder. What did it matter, anyway? That was all water under the bridge.

  He laughed a great big belly laugh. “Well, if you don’t, I’m not going to remind you!”

  She smiled and took the dish from him. “You want to come in? I’m just making lemonade.”

  He nodded and stepped inside, looking around. “The place, it looks good. It’s …” His eyes narrowed upon Mason, who was crouched in the stairwell with the railing. “Scuzi. I didn’t know you had company.”

  Mason turned around and Audrey made the introductions. Was it her or did the two men size each other up like competitors in a dogfight?

  There was a moment of awkward silence that Audrey felt compelled to fill. She said, “Mason also has a one-euro house. He’s a contractor so he’s better at this than I am. And G owns La Mela Verde. Have you been there, Mason?”

  Mason shook his head, put a pencil behind his ear, and started measuring the railing with a tape measurer.

  “Oh, well, it’s great,” she said, pouring two glasses, one for each of the men. She handed one to G. “Especially his ciambotta. It’s like gold.”

  Mason didn’t answer.

  G bowed humbly, accepting the praise. “So how are things going? You working hard?”

  She shrugged. “They’re going. Not as fast as I’d like but I have the bathroom and my bedroom done. So that’s good. The place isn’t as big as most, so I don’t really have too much more to do.”

  He nodded. “Is small, yes?”

  “Yeah. Just the one bedroom.”

  Just then, Mason let out a curse under his breath. Audrey whirled to him as he growled, “Boston. Can you give me a hand?”

  G drained his glass and headed for the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll see you later?”

  “Yes. I’ll stop by to return your empty dish,” she told him.

  “Fill it! With one of your American specialties. Just for me, okay?” He winked at her.

  She smiled goofily at him, so entranced by his wink that she totally forgot she wasn’t much of a cook. American specialties? Did she have anything that would qualify? He probably wouldn’t enjoy her usual Kraft dinner with little cubes of cooked ham. Compared to ciambotta? She cringed.

  Behind her, Mason whistled. “Hello? Hate to interrupt your little Latin lovefest, there, but …”

  She whirled. If it wasn’t her, Audrey would’ve thought he was jealous. “Shut up. What?”

  He pointed to the wall. The holes that had been made during her failed attempt at installing the railing were still there, but now they were even bigger. He’d made it worse.

  “What did you do?”

  G turned around at the door, clearly curious, and came to look, too.

  “Hey. It’s not my fault. I patched up the walls, but it did no good. Because this wall isn’t a wall. It’s like … a shower curtain.”

  She frowned. “A shower curtain?”

  He hooked a finger at her, motioning her forward in the stairwell. She stumbled over the steps and when he pointed to one of the holes, she didn’t quite understand until she looked more closely at it and realized it wasn’t just a dig in the plaster.

  It was a big, fat, gaping hole.

  She put her eye closer to the opening and squinted into the dark chasm. “What … where does that go to?”

  “I think it’s the house next door. Your neighbors.”

  G whistled.

  She felt queasy. So now, not only did she have a hole from the outside going to her bathroom, she also had a hole into the house beside her own. It made sense, they all shared walls, one after the other, like condos, but she hadn’t realized just how thin they were, especially since she hadn’t actually seen or heard from anyone on that side of her house. In fact, there was a blue set of double doors a few meters up the street, to what looked like a rather grand home, but no one had ever come in or gone out. “Neighbors? What neighbors? I think that house is abandoned, too.”

  He took a pen light and shone it inside. “Too bad. Looks nice in there.”

  “Does it?” How was that fair, that next door was a one-euro house, and it was bigger and nicer than hers? They probably even had a backyard. She grabbed the flashlight and started to look herself, until she realized she was peering in what might have been someone else’s property. She sighed. “Well, how do I fix it?”

  “I think you need to replace the whole wall. This thing’s temporary. It’s hollow. Like I said. A shower curtain.”

  She sighed. She still hadn’t gotten her license, and the rest of her money wasn’t going to go very far. “That sounds expensive.”

  “Very,” G chimed in, making it worse.

  Mason shrugged. “I wouldn’t try to do it yourself.”

  Just then, there was another knock on the door. Had the whole town come at once to gape at her troubles?

  Audrey tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and exhaled slowly. “What else could go wrong today?”

  She went back to the door and opened it to find Detective DiNardo, the big macho guy she’d once been so afraid of, cuddling a tiny white Persian with the most adorable little pout on its face. Beside him was a bald, well-dressed older man whom Audrey had never seen before.

  Audrey was puzzled, but her eyes were drawn to the cat.

  “Oh!” Audrey said, so immediately enamored by the sight that she nearly forgot the detective who was holding her. “Hi! Aren’t you the sweetest?”

  She immediately petted the animal, which leaned into her hand. When it did, she noticed the telltale cloudiness in its eye and the swollen eyelid.

  Her owner said, “I heard that you were a veterinarian? Luna has been sick for three days.”

  “I am,” she said. “But I’m not really allowed to treat animals without my license. I could get in trouble.”

  She smirked at him.

  As they took a step inside, suddenly, Nick hopped down the stairs and stood proudly in the foyer.

  Audrey’s face fell. She braced herself.

  But they didn’t make any remark at all.

  G and Mason came over, too. The tiny house was getting awfully crowded.

  DiNardo asked sadly, “Do you know what’s wrong with Luna?”

  Au
drey got out her medical bag and took the cat into her arms. After a quick inspection, her original suspicions were confirmed.

  “Yep. It’s just your regular old run of the mill cat conjunctivitis. Very common.”

  DiNardo didn’t seem satisfied. It was funny to see the tough man babying his little cat, coddling it, leaning over it like it meant everything to him. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. I’d normally prescribe antibiotics to clear it up, but since I don’t have a license … I can’t help you with that. But it should clear up in a few days on its own.”

  His distinguished friend suddenly stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  “We were hoping to help you, help us,” the man said, offering her a tiny cask, just like the one she’d planned to give to Ernesto on that fateful day. “Please accept this olive oil, for prosperity. I am Orlando Falco, president of the Mussomeli town council. We are very happy that you have chosen to purchase one of our beautiful properties and join our little community.”

  Audrey took the gift. “Thank you. Nice to meet you. I’m happy to be here, too.”

  “We were talking at our last board meeting about the increase in strays around the town. They’re everywhere, and it appears a lot of them are sick, and dying of disease in the streets. We can’t have that if we hope to attract more people to our town.”

  She nodded, remembering the poor cat she’d seen outside La Mela Verde. “Yes, they likely have mange. It’s easily treatable, but you have to catch the animals first.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping you can help us with,” DiNardo said.

  She paused, trying to understand.

  “You want me to catch stray animals?”

  “Oh, no. At least, not totally. We want you to create a shelter, to bring in and care for these animals. You see, we don’t have a vet in Mussomeli, and we need you,” Falco said. “To take these animals in.”

  She wondered if she was dreaming.

  “Of course, we’ll pay for the building. We have a place in mind, in the center of town. It’ll likely have to be fixed up, though. It may take a lot of work, which you’d have to do.”

  She stared back, speechless, unable to catch her breath.

  He smiled.

  “We need a vet in this town. We need you.”

  Audrey felt her heart race in her chest as it swelled with excitement. Could this really be happening to her?

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

  “We rushed this through,” he said, handing it to her.

  She lifted the flap and peered in the envelope. A single slip of paper was in there. She didn’t have to look hard to know it was her license to practice veterinary medicine in Sicily. She would’ve happy-danced in her foyer-kitchen, had it been bigger and not packed with people.

  She started to tear up.

  And then she gave everyone around her a great big bear hug, as if they’d all just handed her the license.

  They all seemed to turn crimson.

  “I’d love to,” she said, wiping away tears. “And…it couldn’t have come at a better time. I would have had to go home soon. I’m starting to run low on cash.”

  He smiled. “You will need it! Considering you bought one of the largest homes in town,” he said.

  “Yes, consider—” She froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Yes, one of the largest and most historic. A daunting task for any renovator, but you have the true spirit of adventure, don’t you?”

  She shook her head. English was his second language, so he’d probably just used the wrong word. “You mean, one of the smallest properties? One of the most run-down, right?”

  He shook his head, looking confused.

  “No. The largest. This property was once owned by a noblewoman in the sixteenth century, who carried on her secret affairs here with a baron who was not her husband, supposedly.”

  She laughed. Interesting. Yes, this place was a cave, a nice hidey-hole for secret affairs, but she had a hard time believing any noble had ever lived here.

  She moved aside and pointed around the place. “She must’ve had very simple tastes.”

  Falco looked confused. Then he spotted Mason, standing in the stairwell, holding his hammer. He squinted at him. “Dio, what happened here?”

  “Yeah,” Audrey sighed. “As you can tell, we’re having a little railing issue. But Mason here is an expert carpenter, and he’s—”

  “Where did that wall come from?” The councilman strode toward it, climbed into the stairwell, and shook it. “Who put this here?”

  Audrey stared, confused. “What do you mean? Isn’t it supposed to be there?”

  He motioned to Mason’s hammer. Reluctantly, he handed it over. Falco stuck the end of the hammer into the gaping hole to nowhere and pulled, making the whole thing come apart in chunks. Dust and moldy air filled the room, but as it settled, leaving a large hole, natural light poured through the opening.

  Falco pointed. “This is also Piazza Tre.”

  “What?” She climbed the steps and peered in the hole, which was now substantially larger.

  In addition to the other half of the staircase, there was a large, open, furnished room, as large as a ballroom, with massive picture windows and gothic details. Up that side of the staircase, the hall opened to at least another two rooms.

  He was right. It was huge.

  She stuck her head so far in she almost fell through, craning to see what was down a narrow hallway, under the steps. “Where does that go? That passage there?”

  Falco looked at it and shrugged. “To your garden, I’m sure.”

  Her garden?!?

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  “Are you sure all this is mine?”

  The councilman nodded. “Yes. Quite sure. The person who owned this place prior to you ran into money troubles and likely illegally sectioned part of the house off for renters. That’s the part you’ve been living in. Oh dear, you thought this little closet was your place?”

  She sniffled, close to crying. She was speechless.

  Her father would’ve loved this place. He was the one who said that every one of his projects was an adventure. She peered inside the hole again and her heart practically burst at the thought.

  Mason smirked at her. “Are those happy tears because you don’t own the ugliest house in town anymore, or sad tears because you’re going to have to do a lot more in the way of renovations?”

  She shrugged. “I’m just so shocked.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at the men. “Yes. Yes, I would be happy to do it. Thank you for the opportunity.”

  “Wait, wait, wait …” Mason said, crossing his arms. “Don’t you want to think this over? Isn’t this biting off more than you can chew? Do you realize what you’re signing up for?”

  “What do you mean? Of course I do.”

  He peered in the hole and shook his head. “You’re sure? Renovating this huge place and a new shelter? You’re the one who came to me crying because you thought your shower was trying to kill you. Looks like that was the least of your worries.”

  “Okay, yes, it’s going to be a lot of work. But I have you. Right?”

  His smirk disappeared.

  “And if I have a shelter, and my license, I’ll have money to pay you for your services.”

  Mason nodded, conceding. “Now I see where you’re going. All right, I agree.”

  “Plus, we’ll get you a special license so that you can keep the fox, too,” DiNardo added, sweetening the deal.

  As if understanding, Nick brushed up against her ankles.

  She grinned and extended a hand to shake.

  “I think you’ve got yourself a new veterinarian.”

  Their railing-installation plans upended, they instead celebrated with glasses of lemonade. No one seemed in any rush to leave, and she wondered for a minute if they were all moving in.

  “Well, it would be rude of me not to show you all around m
y new home,” she said, smiling.

  Her smile widened as she looked at the gaping hole in the wall, and they all huddled around her.

  She had some exploring to do.

  They all climbed through the hole in the wall and looked at the rest of her place.

  She was breathless.

  It was massive, a palace fit for a queen. She pulled one of the sheets up to reveal an elegant chaise in blue damask. Dusty, but lovely. All of it was a snapshot from another time period, a collection of original, exquisitely crafted things that showed pride in workmanship—ornate doorways and sculpted cornices. It was incredible.

  Up a large staircase, another bedroom and a bath, all made with painstaking detail.

  All the men whistled at the same time.

  Heart thrumming, she tiptoed downstairs, through that narrow hallway, hand trembling as she turned the knob to go outside. To a yard. Her yard.

  She exited on a grand and gorgeous patio, leading to a massive, overgrown yard, shaded by olive trees, surrounded by ivy-covered walls.

  She walked through the grass, hardly believing the feel of grass beneath her feet.

  She found herself drawn to the wall, to the overgrown ivy, daring to wonder if there could be the view behind it that she had dreamed of.

  She gasped at the vista in front of her.

  There, before her, flooding her yard, were the most spectacular views of the old castle in the distance, the rolling hillsides, and the vineyards below. Everything was alive and exploding in a riot of color, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen before. Not for the first time today, she was absolutely awestruck.

  This was her yard, her view. This house was hers.

  The bright Mediterranean sun warmed her face as she turned and looked back at the house. Her house. A not-so-little corner of the world that belonged to her.

  Sure, it needed work, a lot of work, but now she was ready for it. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

  It was absolutely everything she’d imagined, the minute she’d taken a look at that ad, while sitting on the T in Boston.

  Now, she could see herself living here. Making a life here.

  Just then, Nick jumped into her arms, as if he wanted to be included in her dreams.