The terrace door opened, and Teo stepped out. “Ladies,” he said. “Am I interrupting?”
“Only a discussion of red versus red,” Sam said, and Stefi wiggled the two bottles.
“Sorry. Not my area of expertise. I came instead to tell you that I made reservations for dinner in the village, hoping I could convince you both to join me.” And to Stefi, “Do you think your cousins can spare you for an evening?”
“Oh, yes.” Stefi’s eyes widened, and she gave him a dazzled smile.
“I’ll let you get back to your colors then.”
He left them, and Stefi gathered the polish. “Show me what you’re going to wear.”
“Now?” Sam asked.
“Now.”
Upstairs, Sam pulled black silk slacks and a loose fitting shirt from a hanger and laid them on the bed.
Stefi studied the outfit. “Hold on a minute.” When she returned, she carried a silk scarf in hues of blue and purple. “With this for color.”
Grinning, Sam accepted the scarf. “Gorgeous. And you?”
“I’m thinking that reddish dress to match my nails, which I’m going to paint now.” At the door, she turned to ask, “You sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m fine.” Sam waved her out, thinking what a show-stopper her daughter would be in red, red, and auburn.
They left the villa at seven. As Teo drove them down into the village in his elegant car, Sam imagined her daughter’s fingers on the leather, mimicking her own. She remembered the little-girl Stefi, bouncing in the backseat on their way to a treat—a movie or pizza or shopping for new clothes. This nearly grown Stefi wouldn’t bounce on the outside, but she was probably doing a fair imitation of it on the inside.
Walking into the dining room in front of her mother, Stefi turned and wiggled her brows. Oh, yes, Stefi liked the linen and the splendor and the dinner out with Teo. Sam wiggled hers back. Yes, ma’am. Nothing shoddy about this place.
The waiter held Sam’s chair, while Teo held Stefi’s. After they ordered, Teo asked Stefi about her classes. “Did you bring any drawings up with you?”
“I did.”
“I hope you’ll show me.”
And Stefi toppled at his feet. Her mother sympathized.
When Teo helped her escape from a dinner with Lena and Phil and some friends from DC, Sam felt like a teenager escaping parental supervision. When he ushered her into the small, intimate restaurant, she remembered another reason she liked being with him.
Over a glass of wine, he told a story she hadn’t heard about getting lost in an alpine village on a research trip. He asked about her student years, her children, her decision to open the first Samantha’s. They lingered over coffee.
And suddenly he lowered his cup.
There was nothing about the cup lowering that should have caused Sam to drop her gaze from his flashing eyes to his widened smile. But her hand stilled. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, mesmerized.
His smile vanished as the heat climbed from her neck to her cheeks. Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand. “What?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t a clue.
A blush, a stillness. What?
Because she couldn’t stop staring at lips?
“I must be tired,” she finally answered.
“Yes, of course you are. I’m sorry. Are you ready to walk back?”
“The air will do me good.”
He signaled for the check, slipped some bills into the case, and helped her stand.
A moon rose slowly over the lake, which showed barely a ripple in the light’s refection. He offered his arm again, and again she took it.
How on earth was she supposed to learn independence when her mind and flesh seemed determined to succumb to a man’s charm? This man’s charm. Serial monogamy meant serial dependence. Why couldn’t she just see him as an interesting friend?
There must be something deeply wrong, something innately lacking that made her afraid to be alone.
No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t mind being alone, but obviously some part of her longed to be part of a couple.
Which is exactly what had happened with Jack.
20
Samantha
I hope: imagination soars;
I fear: night splits in shards of glass.
Food seemed to define her days and evenings. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. And dinner too often with Teo. Sam hated that she’d come to depend on his company to keep her alone from screaming in her ears, but no matter how disappointed with herself she felt, she continued to say yes to him.
Yes instead of no. Always yes.
When would she learn?
They’d returned to Reggio in a lighthearted mood. At least, he’d seemed full of good humor during the drive and while they supped on a small pizza. She’d tried to keep up the cheer and escape the nagging question of whether or not the time had come to leave Reggio.
Exhausted that night, she slept, but soon she was aboard Alice, reclining on the floorboards and staring up at a sail full of wind. All she could hear was the lapping of water against the bow as the little boat sliced through the waves. She said something; the words changed every time the dream replayed: “Isn’t this great?” Or, “Don’t you wish it could last forever?”
And then silence, always silence. She spoke again, but no one answered. She sat up to see why and found herself alone on the boat, the untended tiller swaying to and fro. She called out to Jack, to anyone. Nothing. She was alone in the middle of the river, while her boat sailed itself. She sat mesmerized, watching the tiller move. In the way of dreams, parts repeated, caught, stopped, backed up, and happened again. But the scene never resolved itself. She had no idea if she ever got back to land.
She still wondered what it meant when she woke the next morning.
The water took forever to warm. While it did, she brushed out her tangles and tried not to think too much. After her shower, dressed and patinated, she wandered down to the neighborhood bar where she ordered an espresso and a chocolate croissant to arm herself with caffeine and too many calories.
Then it was off to the Internet café to e-mail the troops.
She found one letter in her inbox, from Rhea. All’s fine here, except you-know-who showed up again. Almost made my stomach turn, seeing Gail. Sam loved the visuals. That is, Rhea continued, until Miss Sugar-Won’t-Melt-on-Her-Tongue pulled out her wallet and handed over four hundred plus of those gorgeous green things for another set of stoneware. I grabbed those bills, Sam honey, and flashed her the biggest smile you ever saw. She can come in here and hand over her money anytime, far as I’m concerned. You think she’s coming in here to see what’s what? My guess? All’s not right in that gal’s world.
Sam grinned and typed: I’m thrilled she’s spending Greg’s money with us.
When her new phone jangled in her purse, she dug for it and found Teo’s number flashing on the screen. She logged off and headed outside.
“Seems my editor wants to meet me in Milano,” he said.
“But you just got back from there.”
“The drive isn’t that long. I’ll be in Reggio again in time to take you to dinner.”
“You don’t want to postpone?”
“I’ll still have to eat, and I’d rather do it with you than alone.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
Ten minutes later, her phone rang again with another call from Teo. “Martine just invited the two of us to their house for dinner and you for an afternoon of sailing.”
“Really?”
“If you can catch the bus down to their place, I’ll meet you there and get you home.”
Sam jotted down Martine’s number, called to make the arrangements, and asked how and where to catch the bus. Her smile almost split her cheeks.
Oh, yes, oh, yes, keeping busy on the water. This worked.
The wind died.
Martine’s rueful expression accompanied her words. “I am so sorry. I for
got to check the forecast.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to be out and on a boat.”
They dropped sails, and Sam gazed out to the horizon. “Do you mind just drifting for a while?”
“It is so peaceful.” Martine stretched out her legs and lowered her big-brimmed hat to shade her face.
The gentle movement of the boat lulled them as Belle bobbed with the current and the receding tide. The occasional light slap on the hull brought the only noise, except when a gull squawked in hope of a handout.
Checking off the stern, Sam noticed the shoreline growing less distinct. “I think we should start the engine. We can’t very well paddle a boat like this.” And it would never do to be too far from land if the engine quit on a windless day.
“Do you wish to head in?” Martine asked.
“I think it best. But slowly.”
“Another day, we will sail more. I will be certain to listen to the weather reports.”
Sam steered. Relaxed, she tried to pick out words when the VHF squawked occasionally in Italian or French. There were more boats on the water today, but no other sailing vessels. Belle’s small engine puttered them toward the harbor.
“La Belle Journée, she is a fine little boat, n’est-ce pas?” Martine’s eyes twinkled.
“Ho-ho. You are going to work on my French now, as well as my Italian?”
“È necessario.”
“Ah, it is necessary. That’s an easy one, but we’re back to Italian.”
Martine laughed, a pleased gurgle. “You will stay here, in Italy?”
“I’m not certain. Sailing with you makes me want to linger, but someday soon, I’ll have to return to my home and my shops.”
“It is permitted to suggest that my dear friend Teo may not be happy if you leave?”
Sam focused on the wheel, adjusting it slightly to starboard. “He’s very nice.”
“Of course, he is. He has also many times revealed to Tonio that he has no interest in another wife. He tells Tonio, you know? How his friends, they try to introduce him to women, but Tonio says he has too much hurt inside and does not wish to let himself grow close again.”
“Ah. Yes, I see. Well, I’ve told you that I’m not angling for a man. It’s much too soon for me.”
“Of course. I should not have mentioned it.”
Sam suppressed her sigh, but she heard it rooting around in there. “It doesn’t matter.”
She wouldn’t discuss this. Certainly not with Teo’s advocate, and the one who figured some sort of relationship was meant.
Martine stood and peered out past the shading bimini as a cloud obscured the sun. “More clouds seem to be coming from the south. It is good that we go in.”
Picking up the mooring was easier this time. Sam beamed at Martine, who gave her a victory wave and called, “You are becoming the expert.”
They secured lines, gathered their belongings, and closed up the boat before calling for a water taxi. The air had begun to cool. Martine had been right about the approaching storm. Sam hoped Teo would make it to Portofino before those clouds let loose.
The housekeeper had just brought in a light antipasto of lettuce rolls and condiments when Teo arrived. Martine rose to greet him and accepted the offered bottle of wine and the cheek kisses.
“Benvenuto,” she said, the lilt in her voice as welcoming as the word.
Sam didn’t rise. “You see us relaxing after a strenuous day.”
“Hard work on the water?” Teo said and pointed toward the window. “I do believe we’re in for a deluge.”
The wall of misty rain advanced across the harbor. By the time the housekeeper announced that dinner awaited them, rain pelted the windows and the tile roof.
“Teo knows us,” Martine said as they sat before beautifully arranged platters of veal, vegetables, salad, and bread. “We do not eat huge meals here.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Lisette goes to her own dinner now. We can enjoy the meal without so much commotion, you know?” And with a shrug toward the back of the house, “Except for that which is outside.”
Tonio patted his wife’s hand. “It is well.”
“You had the meeting with your editor?” Martine asked Teo, passing the bread basket.
“I did. She gave me the same line as always: The books are doing well, when will I send the next? By the way,” he said, dunking his bread in olive oil and turning to Sam, “Val had an interior designer with her, a woman who has written a series of articles she wants to compile and publish. I crashed their party and mentioned Stefi’s aspirations, which means that I now have a name, a contact, and a promise to look at Stefi’s drawings whenever we can get the two of them together. Stefi is Sam’s daughter,” he explained to the others. “We met at the lake.”
Martine’s gaze flickered toward Sam.
“I can’t believe you did that for her,” Sam said. “She’ll be ecstatic.”
“I like Stefi. It’s no big deal.”
“It will be to her.”
“Well, connections are important. Stefi seems to be working hard to learn as much as she can. And I liked the drawings she showed me. It’ll be up to her now.”
Martine extended the plate of stir-fried vegetables to Teo. “You’ve met Gian Baggati, haven’t you?”
“I have.” He turned to Sam. “The Baggati Castle’s that big place overlooking Reggio.”
“Quite a fortress,” Sam said.
“He was in town this morning.” Martine sliced into her veal. “Such a production.”
“From what I’ve seen,” Teo said, “he does everything that way. How many cars did they bring this time?”
Tonio speared a zucchini chunk. “Almeno cinque.”
His wife translated. “At the least, five, and very big ones they were. So many guards around him.”
“Probably afraid someone will take a pot shot in his direction,” Teo said.
“Pot shot?” Tonio asked.
Teo pointed his index finger and pretended to fire. Tonio laughed. “Sì, esattamente.”
Exactly? That roused Sam’s curiosity to a new level. She’d seen the castle up high on the mountainside with its long, winding drive and the best view in the area. “He’s afraid for his life? How do you know him?”
“I got into a conversation with the man himself late one night at a local coffee bar,” Teo said, “and he invited me to a party he was having the next evening. Castello Baggati is quite a place, exactly as you would imagine a medieval replica constructed by Disneyland.”
“You’re kidding. You mean, it’s not real?”
“It’s certainly no older than the fifties. His father had it built with money he’d made in the United States. Steel, I think. Buying himself a setting for all that gold.”
“You have spoiled our friend’s illusions, Teo.” Martine wagged a finger playfully. “She has been imagining an antique castle, perhaps from Charlemagne.”
“I have indeed. So what does this son do up there?”
“As far as I can tell, nothing at all, except spend money and enjoy life. The place is worth a visit, even if it’s not authentic.” Teo reached for another piece of bread. “Great food, Martine,” he said and, at her smile, bounced back on topic. “That castle might as well be a fortress. It would be very hard for anyone to sneak up on them, with those steep ridges behind and the ground falling off in front. The night I was there, limos lined the length of the pavement. I didn’t know any of the jet setters, but there seemed to be diamonds flashing everywhere. I had a grand time watching them in between examining Baggati’s collection of paintings and antiques. The castle may not be period, but the furnishings are, and someone up there has an eye for fine art.”
“I’d love to see it.” Sam imagined telling Stefi and Daniel about such an adventure. The idea of a fortress brought to mind those old black-and-white films of women in furs and cigarettes in holders. Jewel-encrusted, of course.
“Wouldn’t we, also.”
Martine nodded toward her husband. “So mysterious. And to think our writer was invited.”
“If I ever run into him again,” Teo said with a wave of his fork, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Will you write of him?” Martine asked. “The mysterious Baggati?”
“Who knows? Perhaps someday.”
That reminded Sam of something she’d meant to ask. “Speaking of writing, do you ever imagine doing something exciting like the characters from your books? Chasing bad guys?” She’d caught him mid-bite. “Or do you get asked that all the time?”
He held up a finger until he’d swallowed. “Rarely asked. With a female heroine, I imagine meeting her, not being her. I like mysteries because I like to solve problems. It’s like playing chess, figuring out moves three or four plays ahead. Of course, if I were better at chess, I’d be able to see straight to the end, and Tonio wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He stopped to translate that for Antonio’s benefit and scored a laugh from the other man. “I try to fix my plot points toward the taking of the bad guy’s king instead of the other way around.” A sip of water, and then, “I suppose I may have created a few characters who are particularly strong or attractive or brilliant as compensations for my own needs, but I usually just write about people I’d like to know. And sometimes about people I’d hate.”
“What about…?” And they were off, discussing favorite characters and plot lines. Martine joined in with her own questions, and Tonio managed to get off a few in English. Martine and Teo translated Tonio’s Italian comments.
Sam hadn’t felt this energized in months. She didn’t want the evening to end.
When Martine asked her what sort of stories she most enjoyed, Sam thought for a moment. “I’m fairly eclectic in my tastes. For a while after Greg left, I’d pull ten books off the library shelves, take them home, and maybe actually get through three of them.” She took another small sip of wine while she tried to come up with a good answer. “I like romance, mysteries, suspense. As long as they’re not formulaic and are well written. I enjoy stories that are intelligent and a fun read. Like Teo’s books.”
Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4) Page 16