Flipped (Better With Prosecco Book 1)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  “It makes you happy, no?”

  An older man had made himself comfortable on the bench next to her. She smiled. “Yes. It does. Everyone here seems to be so relaxed. It must be a nice feeling.”

  “You are not feeling like this?” The man took a folded newspaper from under his arm and set it on his lap. A small child ran up and gave him a high-five. “Be good, Luca!” he called after the boy.

  When was the last time she had felt relaxed? Hazel couldn’t remember. Just thinking about being relaxed made her anxious. That was telling. “No. I haven’t felt relaxed in a long time.”

  “Then maybe you are not making life right, no?” He held his hand out to her, “I’m Atillio,” he said. “Piacere.”

  His kind and generous smile made her feel a little weepy again, so she swallowed hard and took his hand. “I’m Hazel,” she said.

  “I know.” He laughed at her expression. “Don’t be surprised. Everyone in Borgotaro knows everything. But we are not dangerous. You are here to fix the Zanre house, no?”

  “Yes,” Hazel said. “Did you know her? Maria Zanre?”

  “Of course! And your mother too! She was quite a breath of fresh air all those years ago. I am glad to see her back. Borgotaro suits her.”

  “You knew her back then? And what about the boy she was with? Did you know him too?”

  “Of course.” He stood up to leave. Hazel was dying to ask him more but didn’t want to be rude. She would look out for him again. “Now, I think if you would like to relax, we can play some music for you tonight. Come to the square in the center of the village. The Quora it is called. We are starting the summer season for all of our tourists, and there will be music. You should let a little Borgotaro seep under your skin.”

  Back at the house, Hazel sat at the tiny desk in her bedroom and shuffled the pile of lists she had made that day. The first item on the first to-do list was “Buy SIM Card.” She had a feeling it was going to take a while to get through this stack. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew. She could check off the next one though. Write to Dad.

  Dear Daddy

  Can you believe I let Mother tempt me into one of her crazy adventures? We are here, in a little town in Italy, renovating a house. Crazy right? Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten my career. If I do this right, I’ll be back in Jax just in time for the partnership announcement and with enough money in my pocket from the proceeds of this house to contribute to my equity stake. Don’t worry about Slimy Samuel. He’ll screw up, and Liz will just remind the Board who was supposed to have that project in the first place.

  Did you know Mom had been here before? I’ll bet she took off for Europe while you were the sensible one finishing college, right? I wonder how you managed to stay with her for as long as you did. I love her dearly, but she can be so flighty and unpredictable.

  Anyway - I might be in over my head, but if I want the equity money, I have to get it done. Don’t worry. You can count on me. I’ll make you proud.

  Hazel.

  “Well, you can’t go out like that!” Indigo was standing at the door of her bedroom and was dressed to the nines. She had gladiator sandals on, Hazel didn’t even know they made those anymore, and a full purple skirt with an ivory lace top. She had tucked a cherry red, fake carnation behind her ear. She looked like a cupcake.

  Hazel was already in her pajamas. It had been a long day. After the disastrous morning attempt at the phone shop, she had headed back down around 2:30 pm with passport in hand and a list of errands, including shopping for some food. The three of them couldn’t live on flat prosecco. Well, maybe Indigo could, and who knew what Stefano ate, but she needed real food. Apart from the bars, every shop had been closed. All of them. So much for her list.

  “I’m not going out. Do you know how many times I’ve been in town today? And I got nothing done.”

  “Well everyone knows you don’t get anything done during siesta sweetie. You should have just taken a nap yourself.”

  Hazel did not nap.

  “Well I didn’t nap, I tried to work, and I couldn’t. Thankfully my email just crept in, so at least I’ll be able to get some work done today. Liz has something she needs my advice on.”

  Her mother leaned on her door frame and picked at her fingers. “She doesn’t need your advice you know. She just knows you’re freaking out and she’s trying to be nice.” She pushed off the door frame and put her hands on her hips. “Hazel, I am your Mama, and I’m telling you to get dressed right now! We are going for an apperitivo and to hear some music. I won’t leave without you.”

  Hazel stared at her mother in despair. It was true. Indigo wouldn’t go anywhere tonight unless Hazel went with her. The thought of her mother standing over her bed all night was enough to get her out of her pajamas. But Indigo was just going to have to wait a bit longer. It would take her at least half an hour to find the appropriate outfit and get her makeup on. Hazel didn’t leave the house unless she was fully made up. Not like there was anyone to impress in Borgotaro. She wouldn’t even be able to have a conversation with anyone anyway. But she had her rules, and always being put together was one of them.

  18

  Hazel

  Hazel had to admit that this town was charming. Indigo had threaded her arm through hers and the two of them were strolling down the cobblestones of Via Nazionale. The sun had just started to turn a lovely, golden color, signaling to the Borgotaro residents that it was time to move on from their apperitivos and decide on the location of their evening meal. There was a pleasant, yet unintelligible hum of conversation coming from the rows of tables perched on restaurant patios along the length of the road. Hazel was feeling justified that she had taken the time to primp. These Italian women were gorgeous. They didn’t seem to be aware of how glamorous they were so Hazel tried not to stare. They passed a gelato shop and a large, happy man boomed out, “Buona Sera, lovely ladies,” in a strong Italian accent. When Indigo glanced in his direction he bowed, and she giggled and blushed.

  “That’s Gio,” Indigo whispered. “He’s been here forever.”

  Hazel glanced over her shoulder and Gio winked and gave her a little wave.

  “Where are we going?” She spotted a couple passing them that she could have sworn she’d seen five minutes before headed in the other direction.

  “Nowhere, sweetie. We’re just walking.”

  She could see that they were walking They’d been walking since they’d finished their glasses of prosecco at a bar at the beginning of this long street. “Okay, but walking where?”

  “We’re just walking. Just for pleasure.”

  “But what’s the plan?”

  “No plan. We’re just walking.”

  Hazel huffed in frustration. The town was lovely but small; they were halfway down the main street and she could see very few shops or restaurants in front of them. She hated not having a destination. It made her anxious. They came to the mid-point of the street and found themselves in a wide plaza. The building to their left was flying several flags and had some official looking plaques on the walls, written in indecipherable Italian. It must be City Hall or some kind of official building. Drifting toward them from somewhere behind the building came the sound of instruments tuning and an amplified American voice.

  Indigo turned to her, gasping, “Dean McLean!”

  Hazel shook her head, laughing at the look of excitement on her mother’s face. “Oh, for goodness sake, Mother, pull yourself together. He’s just a person.”

  It seemed that now they had a destination. Indigo pulled hard at her arm and headed in the direction of the noise. They passed through a narrow alleyway next to the official building and found themselves in a small amphitheater packed with people in rows of seats on graduated steps surrounding a small stage. Dean’s voice was echoing so loudly because the amphitheater was surrounded tightly on all four sides by the colorful buildings of the town. Spectators were hanging from their apartment windows three and four floors up; wind
ow shutters thrown open to the scented evening air, cigarettes hanging from lips, or knitting in hand.

  “Welcome to the summer season in the Quara,” Dean was reading from a card. Atillio, the man she had met in the park, was standing next to him. The already tight buttons on the jacket clothing his roly-poly body looked ready to burst with pride.

  Dean was casting his eyes over the crowd, making eye contact with almost every audience member and giving them each a radiant smile. He was good. Ladies fidgeted and men sat straighter under his movie star gaze. Hazel shrank against the brick wall of the closest building. Her body was remembering the electricity that had flashed between them. Surprisingly, she found herself trembling a little. She was about to nudge Indigo to indicate she wanted to leave when she heard her name, very loudly.

  “Oh! Hey, Hazel!” Dean had stopped in mid-sentence to greet her and every single pair of Borgotaro eyes turned in her direction. Mortifying. She gave a tiny wave in his direction and he grinned at her and happily turned back to his speech.

  Obviously she couldn’t escape now.

  At the end of his speech, which had clearly been incomprehensible to the majority of the smitten audience, Dean made a beeline in her direction.

  “Are you here for the concert?” he lifted a single eyebrow in question. The lifted eyebrow caused a dimple to appear in his left cheek, and Hazel felt her stomach flutter in response. Damn, he was attractive.

  “No. We were just wandering,” she said.

  “Just wandering,” Indigo repeated, lifting her hand to rest it on Dean’s arm and squeezing. “But we’re glad we ran into you, aren’t we, Hazel?”

  She could kill her mother sometimes. How many times in her lifetime had Indigo inserted herself into a situation where she didn’t belong? When she complained about it, Indigo just said, “You’re always so shy, honey, it looked like you could use the help.”

  “Are we? I thought we were just leaving.” She had to get out of this man’s presence. She didn’t like the way her mind went all muddy when he was near. She needed clarity and focus right now. Not distraction. She pushed herself off of the wall just as he stepped forward.

  “No, don’t lea…” His words were cut off by their collision. She bounced back slightly and lost her footing, but his strong hands were quickly under her elbows to steady her. She found herself only inches from that sexy dimple, and this time the electricity was palpable. Even her mother let go of his arm with a gasp, and she’d never known her mother to let go of a good-looking man once she had him in her grasp. She must have felt the shock under her fingertips.

  They stood there in silence for a good five seconds. His eyes were on hers and flashing with humor. He knew how hot he was. He knew how flustered she was. She pulled back and he let go of her elbows. They burned from his touch.

  “Like I said. We were just leaving,” she said, turning and running before he could say another word.

  19

  Dean

  That Hazel. She was something. Opening the summer season had been the last thing that Dean had wanted to do, but he owed Atillio and Stella for the way that both they, and the town, had embraced him. After that first incident with the ladies who chased him into Hazel’s house, Atillio must have put the word out that Dean was to have some peace. Not a soul had approached him since that day. There was a part of this forced aloneness that was lovely and peaceful, but another part that was… lonely. He wasn’t kidding himself that there was a spark with Hazel, was he? There was something there. She was annoying and prickly, and so uptight, but there was another Hazel under the surface. He’d never met anyone who genuinely didn’t know who he was. Hazel hadn’t known, and even now that she did know, she didn't care.

  Since the day he’d moved to Hollywood, every person he’d met had wanted something from him. They wanted to be close to him, not because they thought he was attractive, or admirable, but because he had something they wanted, be it contacts, information, or merely reflected glory. Hazel didn’t want a thing. He didn’t think she even wanted to be around him, which made him want to be around her even more. This was unlike clingy Isabella, whose absence, now that she had an excuse to be absent, made him realize she didn’t want him either, just the things he came with. His phone rang. Adam. Speaking of Hollywood. The anxiety rush was instantaneous. He considered not picking up.

  “Hey, Adam,” Dean said. “How’s it going over there?”

  “Hey, buddy! All’s rocking over here. Ed’s calmed down now. To be honest, I think he’s enjoying the break. Someone said he’s been shooting movies non-stop since Christmas. How’s Borgoboring?”

  He couldn’t help the annoyance that crept into his reply. “It’s not boring, Adam. These are decent people. It’s nice, you know?”

  “Yeah, of course I know; nice and boring. But if it’s good for you, then it’s good for me. Take your time and focus on getting well.”

  “Take my time?” Dean’s left eyebrow lifted through a will of its own.

  “Yeah, no rush. Take your time.”

  “Adam, what’s going on? In the hospital room, and at my house, you were screaming at me that I have to hurry and get better. At first, you told me Ed wasn’t pissed, then you told me he was. Am I taking my time, or am I hurrying up? What’s really going on?”

  Adam chuckled, and Dean heard him take a suck on a cigarette. A disgusting habit that Dean had been trying to get him to quit for years. “Calm down, buddy! Nothing is going on, other than everyone cheering you on. You know we all want you back here where you belong. But, if you are enjoying it there, then take your time, that’s all. Gotta go, I was just checking in.”

  “Hold on, I’ll get Sara.”

  “No, don’t,” Strain crept into his voice, and Dean’s warning bells went off. What was going on between the two of them? “I’ll speak to her later,” he continued.” You take care now.”

  Dean sat for a moment considering that hasty exit. What had Dean called him for in the first place if he wasn’t calling Sara? Just to tell him to take his time? Someone sniffed loudly. He looked up. Stella was standing in the doorway. Man, that woman was quiet.

  “He is not a good man, that Adam.”

  Dean stood and crossed to her. “He’s my best friend, Stella,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m sorry that he and Sara are having problems, but he is a good man.”

  “Not a good man,” Stella insisted. “He sends you here for a reason. We don’t know why. But he wants you away. Maybe you should wonder, why?”

  “He sent me here because he wants me to get better.” Dean smiled at her. “He knows your home cooking can cure all ills. If only it wasn’t making me so fat!” He patted his washboard stomach and punched her lightly on her shoulder.

  “Pah! Fat! You are a modelo!” She punched him back, a lot harder, and left the room. It was clear she’d gotten the message. Adam was an off limits topic as far as Dean was concerned.

  Did Adam want him away? Was there something going on over there? Like what? Adam needed him as much as he needed Adam. If Dean couldn’t make the film, then Adam wouldn’t make the money. But, yesterday morning at breakfast Sara had shown him a photo in Chi (the Italian version of a tabloid magazine). Adam was exiting a restaurant, and a few steps behind him was Christopher Brook, the new Hollywood wonder boy. Brook’s last two films had smashed box office records, so he was a hot commodity. Sara seemed concerned, but Dean didn’t take it too seriously. Everyone in LA was schmoozing Christopher Brooks; so, of course, Adam would too. In the movie industry, good connections were everything. It was no big deal.

  Dean crossed over to the wardrobe and pulled the equipment bag from the floor behind his empty suitcase. Time to start working on this problem of his. He couldn’t just ignore it forever.

  He drew the tripod out of the heavy bag and set it up in the corner of the room. Next, he reached for the fancy black camera. He squelched the slight flutter in his belly. Closing his eyes to limit his exposure, he felt his way over to the
tripod, the camera tucked under his arm. It only made sense. He had to open his eyes when he attached the camera to the base, but he was careful not to look at the lens., In a few minutes he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. Closing his eyes again he felt for the “On” switch and removed the lens cap. He took several tiny steps back, holding his arms behind him in case he went too far and hit the bed. His hands must have been held too high because on his last step backward he slammed his calf into the bed frame. “Damn.” A long slow, inhalation of fluttering breath… and he opened his eyes.

  It was surprisingly sudden. He was instantly hit by a tidal wave of terror. The sweat started pouring from his forehead, so he lifted a hand up to wipe his sloppy brow, and the world went black. He went down. A few seconds later he slowly opened his eyes. The cracked plaster of the ceiling above him was spinning; like five whiskeys with Adam after a successful premiere, spinning. He closed them again quickly. Had he passed out? Maybe. He couldn’t tell. But, he had no freaking clue how he was going to stand up, walk to the camera and turn it off. He decided to stay still a while. Then he heard that signature, annoyed sniff. Thank God for the nosy, but lovely, Stella.

  “What do you do there on the floor, crazy man?” She rushed over and started patting his forehead with the dishcloth that was like an extension of her right hand. It smelled like garlic. “Sara!”

  “I’m sorry, Stella, but could you do me a favor? Could you go and switch off that camera and move it into the closet, please?”