“If I wrote you a poem, would you be less likely to intellectualize things and whisk me to your lair?”
She punched him in the shoulder and he laughed.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Alas, the door to my lair will remain barred to you. Passion is often feathered with promises meant in the moment but destined to be broken.”
“And who said that?” he asked, already recognizing the wisdom of her choice but curious none the less.
“Me.”
“I suspected you were more of a romantic than you let on; now you’ve confirmed it. So we have that in common.”
“Yes, I suppose, but I’m a practical romantic.”
“There’s no such thing, bellissima. Romance by its very nature is impractical. It’s too elusive to be practical; impossible to give a universal definition to, because the definition is in the mind of the one defining it. It has no limits and yet some find it in nothing more than a simple look.”
She grinned at him, the moonlight highlighting the humor in her eyes.
“What,” he asked, “do you find so amusing?”
She shook her head. “I’m just not used to a man giving so much thought, if any for that matter, to the concept of romance. Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s a cultural thing, but you’re definitely different from most of the guys I know.”
“Should I consider that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Lucia lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “In my mind, it’s a very good thing.”
He slid his hands around her waist and drew her closer. “Sono contenta.”
“I’m glad, too,” she said as he covered her mouth again with his. He drew the kiss out, and couldn’t help but wonder what she would think of him if she knew about his situation and how it impacted her. He needed to figure out what to do about that mess before it was too late, and if he could, without hurting her in the process.
What contemptible scoundrel stole
the cork from my lunch?
W.C. Fields,
You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man
Saturday morning Lucia jolted awake, sat upright, and looked around. Something had startled her into awareness but she couldn’t put a finger on what—a sense, a sound, something in a dream.
The soft, pale celery green sheers covering the two six-over-six windows on the side wall of her room wafted on the morning breeze, a reminder she’d left things open the night before for the fresh air.
She shivered as she slid out of bed. The temperature must have dropped more than predicted. It wasn’t impossible to get a late frost this time of year, which would have Marcella fretting over crop loss, but frost now wasn’t the norm. By mid-May the nighttime temperatures were usually solidly in the fifties. Definitely warm enough to sleep with the windows open, especially when snuggled under a down comforter.
Pulling the sheers apart, she reached up to lower the first window. The sun had already topped the mountains, and without the diffusing effect of the curtains it streamed into her room and across the polished floorboards. The air didn’t feel as cool as she expected; in fact, she felt warmer now standing in front of the open window than when she’d been covered up in bed.
Deciding to leave them open after all, she turned back around to go into the bathroom to wash up. As she walked across the room in her bare feet, she caught a movement in her peripheral vision and spun to the right, startled that someone was there.
She turned in a circle, her eyes darting here and there, but landing on nothing beyond the familiar, beyond what belonged. There was no evidence of an intruder who may have somehow managed to scale the stone façade outside and steal into her room while she’d slept.
“Okay, that was strange,” she mumbled, and shook her head. She might be standing up but clearly her mind wasn’t fully awake yet, or more precisely her eyes, since they were seeing things that weren’t there. Coffee would fix that.
She washed and dressed quickly, made up her bed, and then went downstairs to find all three of her sisters in the kitchen already having coffee and indulging in a quiche Caterina had made fresh that morning.
Eliana and Marcella were sitting at the old kitchen table in the corner of the room and Cat was fussing with something at the stove. Eliana eyed Lucia. “You’re up late. You feel okay?”
“Ummm hmmm.” Lucia stretched her arms above her head and then shook them out at her sides. “Nothing a cup of coffee won’t cure.”
“Or maybe getting Antonio to tuck you into bed before two in the morning.” Eliana wiggled her brows.
“I didn’t get to bed that late; it was only midnight. And he didn’t tuck me in. We said goodnight on the second floor landing, and then I continued up to my bedroom and my lonely bed.”
“Pity.”
“Yes, it is, but in the long run the wisest choice. He’s like the forbidden fruit, and if I allowed myself a taste, I might regret it the rest of my life.” She dragged in a breath. “I don’t know if giving in to the temptation would be worth it.”
“Can’t help you in the dessert department this early in the morning, but if you’re hungry there’s more quiche,” Cat offered. She held up a pie dish to show her and then set it back down on the stovetop.
“Thanks, what’s in it?”
“Leeks and bacon. I want to switch up the brunch menu at the restaurant and thought I’d include a couple of different quiches, so you all get to be my test group.”
“No complaints here.” Lucia got a plate and lifted some then joined Marcella and Eliana at the table. “I thought you were going to ask if you could start having Sundays off since you’re working Friday and Saturday nights,” she said, and then forked a piece of the quiche into her mouth.
“I did.” Cat continued to busy herself at the counter without turning around. “Mitch said he needed one of us to be there because he doesn’t trust leaving anyone else in charge.”
Lucia traded glances with Eliana. Marcella looked between the two of them and frowned. “What?” she mouthed, taking note of the exchange.
Eliana strummed her fingers against her coffee mug. “Why doesn’t he work brunches, or at least alternate weekends with you?”
“He needs that time to do all the back-office stuff: schedules, payroll, paying the bills, and everything else.”
“Can’t he do that on Monday or Tuesday when the restaurant is closed?” El suggested.
Cat stiffened. Even from across the room it was obvious she didn’t like their questions, and Lucia wondered if the nerve they’d struck wasn’t already a little raw. “He said he needs to do it on Sunday.”
Lucia didn’t want to upset Cat, but it seemed Mitch was taking advantage of her. Over the last two months she’d been spending more and more time at the restaurant and Mitch less. Something about that didn’t add up.
Lucia couldn’t imagine Mitch needed so much time to handle the administrative part of the business. He had an accountant handling the books, and payroll and scheduling couldn’t take more than a few hours. Cat did all the food orders, so how much more could there be? No, things didn’t add up, which made her wonder what Mitch was doing with his time.
Lucia worried her mouth around another bite of quiche. Should she let things drop or follow her gut that Cat was making excuses for Mitch? And if Cat was making excuses, did that mean she had her own doubts but was ignoring her instincts?
If pushing her sister to take off any blinders she might be wearing meant upsetting her in the short term, that was a risk Lucia considered worth taking.
“I thought your schedules were posted every two weeks and that most people worked the same shifts…and don’t you get paid every other Friday?”
Cat turned around and crossed her arms, her expression tight. “What’s your point, Luch?”
“I just don’t understand why Mitch needs so much time to do the back-office stuff. And even if he does, can’t he do some of it at the restaurant? I mean, it is his business. I’d think he
’d want to be there more often to ensure things are running smoothly.”
“You don’t have any idea what it takes to run a restaurant,” Cat blurted, clearly on the defensive. “And I don’t know why you’re all ganging up on me about it; it was my decision to work Sundays.”
“No one’s ganging up on you, honey,” Lucia said. “We’re just concerned about—”
“Don’t be! I’m fine, work’s fine, everything is fine.” Cat pulled off her apron and threw it on the counter. “I’ve got stuff I need to do.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the quiche sitting on the stove and all of them staring after her.
“Oookaay.” Marcella looked back and forth from Lucia to Eliana. “Does anyone want to enlighten me as to what the hell that was all about?”
“Maybe we should have gone about that differently,” Eliana suggested. “She seems really upset at us.”
Lucia sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not like we planned to talk to her about things this morning; it just came up. Our intentions were in the right place.”
“I don’t think Cat cares about our intentions right now.”
“No, I’m sure she doesn’t, which only confirms for me that our suspicions are right. She wouldn’t be so upset unless we struck a nerve.”
Eliana frowned. “Yeah. So what do we do now?”
Marcella waved her arms in the air. “Hell-lo! Remember me, the sister who obviously didn’t get the Trouble in Cat’s World memo?”
Lucia reached over and patted Marcella’s hand. “Sorry. Eliana and I both have growing concerns about Mitch and what’s going on with Cat.” Between the two of them, Lucia and Eliana filled Marcella in about their worries.
“I never did get a good feeling for Mitch,” Marcella admitted. “I guess I figured if Cat liked him, he must have some qualities I just didn’t see.”
“I think he had us all fooled at first.” Eliana took a sip of coffee. “He knows how to turn on the charm, and he’s got a pretty face, but once you get past his looks and start observing him in action there are definitely some red flags waving around the guy.”
“Agree,” Lucia said. “So do we back off like Cat asked, or do we try to find out more about Mitch on our own to see if we’re right to be concerned?”
Marcella set her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “That’s a stupid question. She’s our sister.”
“Okay, we’re in agreement.” Lucia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “So where do we begin?”
“I’M NOT SURE, another week maybe and then I’ll drive to New York.”
Antonio narrowed his eyes, let them travel where the morning light wanted to lead them, to the places it highlighted, rested, and gave him guidance.
“No, Grandfather, Lucia has nothing to do with my reason for staying longer. I told you, she feels the same way I do. We met, spent time together, even kissed, and nothing. So I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I held up my end of the bargain by coming here. You and your old friend got it wrong. The coincidence of our births is nothing more than that, a coincidence, so I hope we can put an end to this nonsense.”
He turned and faced the mountains that ran behind the property. Enshrouded under a cloak of misty blue haze, they invited the mind to consider adventure and the soul to muse over magic.
Antonio shook his head, rolled his eyes. “Because the Bonaveras are planning to do some new construction and when they found out I was an architect, they asked if I’d give them some ideas. Consider it a concession to your friendship with their grandfather, Nonno. I’ll only be staying long enough to put together some rough drawings for them and possibly visit some of the area’s museums.”
Whoever drew up the final plans for the project would do so with the intent of maximizing the stunning view. If they didn’t, they shouldn’t be doing it.
“What’s that? No, I’m not sure of the exact day. Look, I’m actually at the property they’re hoping to buy getting some pictures. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days when I have a better idea. We’ll talk more then, and I sincerely hope you’ll reconsider things now that you know Lucia has no more interest in getting married than I do. And do me a favor since I’m not there to make you. Promise you’ll take care of yourself.”
After saying goodbye, Antonio slid his phone into his pocket. His grandfather would turn eighty-eight this year. He didn’t have any pressing health issues, unless one could count a stubborn streak unhealthy, but Antonio still worried he’d try to do something he shouldn’t at his age and end up with a broken bone or two. There was no way to keep an eye on his grandfather from five thousand miles away, though, so he’d just have to trust the old man wouldn’t do anything foolish while he was gone.
He lifted the camera strap from around his neck and began snapping pictures. About ten minutes later, he walked the half mile back to the winery and entered the main building.
Lucia had told him a little bit of history about the place. It had originally been built by her great-aunt’s father as a home for himself, his wife, and their young daughter. The daughter had travelled to Italy as an adult, where she met and fell in love with Lucia’s great-uncle. He returned with her to the States, where they married. Not long afterward, the daughter’s parents died and she inherited the home. It wasn’t until after that point in time, when Lucia’s uncle decided to return to his roots as a winemaker, that the first vines were planted on the property and the seeds of what would become the present day Bonavera Winery were sown.
From what she’d told him, Lucia’s parents came to this country to help her grandparents take care of settling her aunt and uncle’s affairs after they were the victims of a double murder. Her parents fell in love with the land. They decided to stay in Virginia, begin a new life, and pursue her uncle’s dream of establishing a vineyard.
He shook his head. “Grizzly beginning, but it seems they knew what they were about,” he uttered aloud.
“Who are you talking to?”
Antonio turned to see Eliana sitting on one of the couches in the library where they’d all met the other night. She was leafing through a stack of mail.
“Just thinking out loud.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “No need to worry, I don’t have any invisible friends.”
“Yeah well, you never know around here.” She stood up and walked into the reception.
Eliana’s remark intrigued him. He’d had a weird experience upon waking that morning that had made him question if he were actually awake or dreaming. He’d put it from his head, deciding he’d been in that crossover world between sleep and consciousness when the mind is still susceptible to fanciful imaginings; but now she aroused his curiosity. What if it hadn’t been his mind playing tricks on him?
He cocked his head. “Really? Would you care to enlighten me?”
“I probably shouldn’t. Like you, I was just thinking out loud. I doubt Cat and Lucia would be too happy with me if I were to scare you away before you got a chance to give them some of your ideas. They’re both anxious to see what you come up with.”
“Now I’m even more curious. Is this place haunted or something?”
Eliana’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him a moment. “Why would you think that? You didn’t…ummm…have anything strange happen, did you?”
“Like what?” he asked, thinking it best to see what she’d suggest rather than tell her about his experience right away.
“Oh, I don’t know…the temperature in the room suddenly dropping, a door opening but no one being there, smelling a scent that wasn’t there before.” She shrugged. “You know, just something, anything that struck you as kind of odd.”
“How about a woman standing over my bed watching me sleep and then disappearing a few seconds after I opened my eyes?”
“Shut up! You did not!”
Antonio chuckled at her expression. He didn’t know if she thought he was joking or was worried he wasn’t. Either way, he didn’t want her o
r her sisters to think he’d go back on his word because of it.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I saw anything. I was just waking up so I could have dreamed or imagined it. If you told me this place had a ghost, though, it wouldn’t frighten me away. On the contrary, I’d think the possibility fascinating.”
He glanced around the room and then lowered his voice. “So now that you know you can trust me with the family skeletons, what’s the deal? Do the Bonaveras have a ghost roaming around the winery?”
“I don’t know. Our mother believed so. She thought it was the ghost of our Aunt Rosa. She was murdered in this house, in this room actually…our uncle too.”
“Yeah, Lucia told me a little bit about it. She said they caught the murderer, an old fiancé or something?”
“That’s right. He never did admit to a motive. Most people thought he did it out of jealousy because he never got over her breaking off with him and marrying our uncle. I always found that a little hard to believe.”
“Why? You don’t believe in crimes of passion?”
“I do, but my aunt and uncle had been married for over five years when it happened. That seems like a long time for someone to wait to commit a crime of passion.”
“Maybe. If he never told anyone why, though, I guess no one will ever know if there was more to it than that.”
Eliana cleared her throat. “Anyway…my sisters and I have differing opinions. Marcella and I don’t know what to believe. We’re a little more open to the possibility Aunt Rosa, or someone’s spirit, could be responsible for some of the unexplainable things that happen around here.”
“What about the others?”
She gave a light snort. “Cat and Luch? Those two would need a lot of proof to even consider the possibility.”
“Consider the possibility of what?”
Antonio and Eliana turned to face the hallway. Lucia stood in the opening with her hands on her hips. Her hair hung free. Her feet were bare. She had on a pair of slim jeans and a white tank top. Antonio felt a punch of desire, hard and fast, and completely forgot what he and Eliana were talking about.
Lucia (The Bonaveras) Page 8