‘A whole case?’
‘You see, a bottle’s a nice incentive, but it looks rubbish against a whole case. If you give people two weeks to mull it over, I’m not saying they wouldn’t book eventually, but that initial excitement will give way to day to day life, like work or chores, or weekend plans. If people know that if they leave it a few more days they only get one bottle, rather than six, they’ll be more inclined to just go for it and book up as soon as possible. No one likes to feel they just missed out on a freebie.’
‘You’re sneaky, I love it. Okay, I think we can make that work.’
‘I’m so glad. Then, I’m going to hit George.’
‘That’s a little bit harsh.’
‘Figuratively. He’s the one with the big bucks and the links to America. I don’t know what he could do for us yet, but I think he could be an absolute star.’
‘He’ll never help – I stole his girl.’
‘I have a feeling he’s pretty resilient. Are you ready for part two?’
‘Let me top up your coffee.’ He went back inside and I leaned back in my seat. I was revved up, bubbling with thoughts and plans and ideas. This was the feeling I had – used to have – at work. Bella Notte wasn’t going under on my shift.
‘Part two,’ I said, jumping straight in when Jamie returned, ‘is about getting people in over the winter. You’re going to have a lot more insider knowledge than I am about events, but I think you should totally try to cash in on all the festivals Tuscany holds throughout the year, like Carnevale in February. Make sure you put a write-up about each one on your website, and offer wine-and-festival holiday combinations. Give them a reason to pick that week, and it’ll also keep the reviews on TripAdvisor and suchlike fresh and full of new, interesting details.’
‘This is waaaay too much work. I’m going back to bed, are you coming?’
I laughed, but that did sound achingly appealing. ‘Don’t tempt me, we have too much to do. Maybe later … Also, I was reading about the hot springs, and I definitely think you need to strike some kind of deal with them. Exclusive use for three nights of the holiday or something. If I knew I could sit on a snowy Tuscan hill, neck-deep in a hot spring, holding a glass of one of your reds, I’d be back in a shot.’
‘Now you’re the one tempting me.’
I was determined to keep my mind focused, as much as it wanted to drift off into a little fantasy of smooching in a hot tub, and oops! We forgot swimming costumes! ‘Anyway … Finally, all of Bella Notte wines are delicious, but I get that out here there’s masses of competition. However, your chilli wine is original, and phenomenal.’
‘You’re just saying that because it helped you get me into bed.’
‘That’s partially it.’ He really needed to stop talking about bed. ‘Um, I was thinking we should go to some local restaurants, you could even take it to some in Florence too, and see if you can get them to put it on their menus. I think it would be a great way to put your name out there a bit more, and once people try it they’ll love it and be all “I’ve got to go to the Bella Notte website and order some of that – ooo, that white wine sounds nice too.” You see? What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I was just thinking how smart you are. You’re very good at this. Your mind is just … amazing.’
‘That’s a nice thing to say.’ I blushed.
‘It’s true. Intelligent, beautiful, fun, likes wine … I’m so angry that England gets to have you back in a few days.’
‘Is it really just a few days?’
‘Four more. Then you leave the day after that.’
‘Oh no.’ I wasn’t ready; that seemed too soon.
‘We’ll make the most of it though, right?’
I nodded, and shook away the sadness. There was no point in wasting a second of the middle by moping about the end.
‘But there’s one problem.’
‘What?’
‘There’s this really indecisive girl who hasn’t decided if she’ll be my girlfriend yet. So how do I thank her properly for all of this?’
‘You mull that over and let me know if you come up with anything. I need to go and wake up Laurie, and she’ll be grumpy as hell if you’re there too, to see her bed-head. Can you meet us in the lounge in about half an hour?’
Laurie and Jamie sat huddled in front of the guest computer in the lounge, poring over the Bella Notte and You Had Me at Merlot website.
‘I don’t mean to be a bitch, but it sucks.’ Laurie yawned.
‘What a bitch.’ Jamie shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.
‘I like the ideas behind the photos, but they just look too much like snapshots. They don’t go – pop – wow I want to go there. I have some beautiful sunrise and sunset shots I’ve already taken which I’m going to give to you to replace the banners, and today I’ll take as many as I can of people genuinely enjoying themselves, not this posed stuff, and we can update the other photos this evening. Oh, and I need you to stop using Comic Sans immediately. Please change that.’
‘Yes, boss. You don’t mind doing this today? I don’t want to stop you enjoying your holiday.’
‘Well, don’t tell your parents, or any future clients – in fact, I’m reluctant to even admit this to Elle’ – she cast me a look – ‘but I could do with a short break from thinking about boys and love and kissing. It’s exhausting, and I’m a little bored of myself.’
A little while later, the group had gathered in the lounge, waiting for the morning’s activity to start, which was a cookery lesson from Sebastian – making authentic pasta and marinara sauce from scratch.
‘Can I have a quick word with you all?’ I asked, feeling a bit like I was about to make a presentation. The guests quietened and dragged their flirt-tastic selves apart. ‘I’d like to ask a teeny-tiny, totally cheeky favour from everyone. You’re all having a good time, aren’t you?’ When this was met with some yeses, some hell-yeses, and some dreamy eyes turning to gaze into each other, I told them as quickly and succinctly as I could about the problem and my potential solutions, hoping I didn’t come across as a grovelling holiday rep.
‘So, in conclusion, anything you can do would be great. Laurie’s going to take some gorgeous, flattering, natural photos of you all today – please let her know if you don’t want to be included – and then the website will be looking beautiful by the time any of your friends clicks through. And don’t forget to mention the wine offer.’
‘I’ll put it on Facebook. I’ll say the men are bloody hot,’ said Vicky. ‘Can you get me a picture of Jamie without a top on?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I laughed.
‘I’m just going to tell everyone it’s like an all-youcan-chug wine buffet,’ added Jane, and the two ladies squeezed their phones out of the pockets of their uber-tight shorts and started tapping away.
Before long, people were piping up all around the room with thoughts and ideas, with names they could contact, mailing lists who’d be interested and local dating services that might want to get involved. I was pleased with the response, but this was only step one.
‘Morning, love machines,’ cried a grinning Sebastian, emerging from the kitchen already dusted to the elbows in flour. He betrayed no evidence of his business crumbling around him, determined to show his guests the best time he could. ‘Who’s ready to make some nosh?’
We followed him into the kitchen where we were divided into men and women and told that Sofia would be stopping by at lunchtime to taste-test all the sauces, and declare which sex had created the most tantalising tastes. ‘It’s not about just following the recipe, it’s about adding the spices, giving it richness, making something that would make a loved one say mmmmm.’
An hour later I was stirring my watery pot of tomatoes and seriously considering swapping pans with Vicky, whose sauce looked thick and deep red, and who was merrily lobbing in handfuls of basil leaves while humming ‘That’s Amore’ to herself.
‘Psst, Donna
,’ I said, leaning over the counter and coming very close to getting my hair caught in the pasta machine.
She looked up, cheeks covered in flour. ‘Sì?’
‘You must have a lot of rich friends, right?’
Donna threw her head back and laughed happily; a sound I realised I hadn’t heard from her in a long time. ‘Thank you for not walking on eggshells around me any more, Elle.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘Like you were standing to attention every time I was around. I thought you must have felt I was this total cow.’
‘I did get a little bit paranoid that you might fire me if I let my professional guard down.’
‘Being professional doesn’t mean not being fun. Don’t confuse the two. And no one worth worrying about would ever judge your behaviour on holiday as if it’s some kind of reflection on how well you do your job. Besides, if this is you with your guard down, you have nothing to worry about. You’re fun, relaxed, easy-going, thoughtful, very intelligent and with a sharp head on your shoulders.’
‘Whoa … I’m going to take that as a verbal agreement of a pay rise.’
‘Can I ask what’s made you change around me? Because it is a big change. Is it because we finally learnt something real about each other, outside our thoughts on market trends?’
‘Actually it’s because I realised I don’t give a crap.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘By that I mean, when you told me about Andreas it was like a big dark cloud rolled in. I got angry as hell, and then after me stomping about for a while it blew away and I actually felt lighter, like the weight of worrying, or of constantly thinking about work, lifted as well. And I guess I thought, Donna’s always been a legend, but I no longer feel like I have to do everything right around you. Because right now, if you fired me, I wouldn’t care. I just want to treat you like a friend and not a managing director.’
‘That’s very honest of you.’
‘I’m sure I’ll regret it – sometimes on this holiday I wonder if my body’s ever actually had long enough to properly sober up. I reckon about two days after I get home the last of the alcohol will pass and I’ll wonder what the heck I was thinking to tell you I didn’t care if you fired me!’
‘Well don’t worry, I’m not going to fire you. Unless you decide you want me to. Now, what is it we can squeeze out of my rich friends?’
She didn’t take much persuading. Donna was on board with spreading the word far and wide among London’s media types about this fabulous wine direct from a vineyard in Italy, and how they should all buy it by the caseload, otherwise they’d be the absolute laughing stock of everyone from Soho House to Chelsea and all who were made there.
‘Hi, George,’ I said gently, sneaking over to the opposition and leaning against the counter next to him as he fed another sheet of raw pasta through the machine and watched it split into strands of tagliatelle on the other side.
‘Hi, baby,’ he said with a little sadness. He didn’t look up, just kept his eyes down and on the pasta.
‘How’s it going?’
‘It’s okay. My marinara’s great – pretty spicy.’
‘Just like you?’
‘Just like me. So you really prefer that kid over me?’
‘Jamie? I kind of like him.’
‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’
‘Better jokes.’
‘Impossible. I really woulda liked to take you back to Florida, you know. I wasn’t joking about that. You would have loved it: all that sunshine, all that freedom. All those different flavours of M&Ms that you don’t get in England.’
‘I’m just not really housewife material. I think we both know I would have annoyed you.’
‘You got me wrong, honey. I wouldn’t expect you to be a housewife; I’d want you to do whatever you wanted to do.’ He paused, and squished a pasta strand between his fingers. ‘And if you wanted to do me, that’d be A-okay.’
I chuckled. He never changed. ‘Tell me, have you always been a bachelor?’
‘No, I was married for forty-one years.’ Wow, I hadn’t been expecting that. ‘Married my childhood sweetheart. And was she a sweetheart … The cleverest head on the warmest body. Blew my mind with her intelligence. I wouldn’t have anything of what I have today without her as we built my business from scratch; she was always the scaffolding, the architect, the rain cover when things looked tough. I loved the hell out of her.’
‘What happened?’ I asked, afraid of the answer.
‘Stupid goddamn breast cancer, of course. Shittiest disease. What a nasty little trick that is of nature to play on women. But before she passed she told me … She said I could mourn all I wanted, she couldn’t stop that, but the minute I felt like I might be able to make it through a day I had to get the hell on with my life. She told me to love again, as much as I could, choosing anyone that made me think and made me smile.’
At this point, I was quite literally crying into his marinara sauce, leaving little salty droplets on the surface. ‘She sounds amazing,’ I sniffled. ‘What was her name?’
‘It was Ellen.’ He met my eyes and shrugged, a half-smile on his lips. ‘Kinda like your name. You remind me a little of her.’
‘I had no idea. I’m sorry, George.’
‘Shush, and thank you. You’re a sweet girl. I hope he makes you happy. For all of five minutes, then I hope you come back to me. Now, I’m guessing you came over here wondering if I was going to do anything to help save this place.’
‘Am I horrible?’
‘No, the opposite.’
‘You don’t have to do anything, I shouldn’t even be asking, I was just going to say that if there was anyone you thought you could reach out to …’ I trailed off, feeling a little awkward.
‘Ellen would’ve really liked this place, you know, and although I think you’re a two-timing floozy …’ He crinkled his eyes at me, ‘… I’m impressed with what you’re doing to support this family. I’ll spread the word to start with, then see what else I can do more long-term. You have my word, baby.’
Although my marinara sauce was definitely the weakest link on the women’s team, Vicky’s had Sofia in culinary heaven and she won it for us. This meant the gents had to be dessert chefs for the night, and while the women were left free to spend the afternoon at leisure the men were confined to the kitchen.
I just wanted to get back to Jamie, which I’ll admit made me cringe at the contrast between my scepticism about this whole holiday and how I was behaving now. But he was like my other half this trip, and my only other half for a long time had been Laurie. I was ready for more him-time.
For the remainder of the day Jamie and I were inseparable, glued together planning, brainstorming and researching in the sunny courtyard in front of his house. It wasn’t all work, work, work; we had fairly regular coffee-and-kissing breaks too.
It was on one of these breaks, when we’d come up for air, that Jamie brought me a cappuccino, even though it was totally frowned upon in Italy to drink one of these in the afternoon.
‘Here you go.’ He placed it on the table in front of me and I leant over it, breathing in the aroma.
‘I know you’re seriously considering sending me straight home for this crime, but you guys just make the best cappuccinos here. I’m drinking them morning, noon and night. I don’t want to regret not making the most of it when I go home.’
That was a more poignant comment than I intended. I looked up at Jamie.
‘Any more thoughts on what you might do when you’re back?’
I shook my head. ‘That just seems way too big, and hard, a problem to even start thinking about. This – saving the vineyard – has obvious, doable answers. But my future … Do I brush the problem to the side and carry on working there? Maybe things will change by the time I’ve got further with my career. Or do I just find a new job? Urgh – all options seem horrible to me right now.’
‘I think you should come here and be Bella Notte’
s marketing manager. I’m amazed by you.’ If only he was serious, because right now that seemed like the perfect solution.
‘I would love to. I’m going to be sad to leave Bella Notte – it feels like home.’
‘Imagine if you lived in here with me.’
‘In here? I don’t know, I like the bathtub up in my bedroom.’
‘I’ll get you a bathtub. Where would you want it to go?’
‘It needs to be by a window: I like relaxing back and seeing you at work in the vineyard.’
‘You do? Do you see me when you take a bath up there now?’
‘Why do you think I’m always so clean?’
He pulled his chair closer to mine and rested his hands on my legs. ‘What else could we do to this place to persuade you to live here?’
‘I’d like a little more colour on the walls. Some sea-green, some lemon.’
‘No problem.’
‘Shouldn’t we fight over the decor?’
‘Why?’
‘Because isn’t that what people do? You say you think a red sofa would be nice, I wrinkle my nose and find some weak excuse not to have it because I’m thinking there’s no way in hell, then I suggest lilac on the walls and you say beige and I say, “Sorry I didn’t realise only you lived here,” and we both end up with pistachio green, which neither of us like, but we tolerate it to save an argument?’
‘Is that really what couples do? I thought we could just put little parts of both of us around the place.’
‘Next you’ll be telling me we wouldn’t have to be sewn together at the hip.’
‘If you were my girlfriend, you could paint what you liked, do what you liked, be who you liked, as long as you stay as amazing as you are.’
‘What if I got fat?’
‘What if you did? You’re still you. I’d take it as a compliment to Italian cuisine!’
‘What if I didn’t shave my legs?’
‘I don’t shave mine, so I can’t complain.’
‘What if I wanted you to leave the house for a while so I could learn dance routines from YouTube?’
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