Happened in Tuscany

by Lorena Franco

  "No,notanotherone.Irefuse."

  "Comeon,yes.Thisisspecial.WithAliceMorgan,doyouknowher?"

  "Whatdoesthisnameringmeabell?"

  "She'safamouswriterofromanticnovels,Mark."

  "I'mjustreadingsciencefiction."

  "Oh...Well,she'sgorgeousanddivorcedayearago."

  "Howoldisshe?

  "Ithinkforty."

  "No."

  "WhatwouldhappenifItoldyoushe'sthirty?"

  "ThenIwouldaccept."

  "Thenshe'sthirty"shesaid,laughing.

  "No"Iinsisted.

  "Mark,please.Iwanthertobehappy...evenifit'sonlyonenight."

  "Why?"

  "BecauseIneedhertofindtheinspirationforhernextnovel.Thepoorwoman,sinceher divorce,hasn´tbeenabletowriteasinglepage."

  "In what do female writers of romantic novels find inspiration? In men? In their relationships?Whatapity."Ishookmyheadandsighed.

  "Well, I don´t know...yes, I suppose, Mark. I don’t know. Please!" Cried Cindy with despair.I'vealwayslovedtogetheroffthehook,it'swhenit'smorefun.Well,whenyouget heroffthehookandwhenshebingeswithmojitos.Adatetomorrow"shepleaded."Atseven inyourrestaurantonFifthAvenue,thatelegantbar,theonewiththegreenphosphoritothatyou knowIhate."

  "Alas..."Inodded,onthepointoftellingherthatIflatlyrefuse.

  "Besides being her agent, I'm her friend. She is a very special woman. Intelligent, attractive,pleasant...You'llhavefun!Youalsoneedtodisconnect."

  "Ihavesaidno.Istillremember...whatwashername?Thatonewithunboxedeyebrows justlikeFridaKahlo's.God,whatafright."

  "Mary?Butsheischarming."

  "Themeaningyougivetotheenchantressisn´tthesameasIgiveher.Whatdoyouwantfor dinner?Doweordersomepizzas?"

  "Whatkindofchefareyou?Yousee?Youalsoneedinspiration."

  IsnortedandfinallyagreedtohaveablinddatewiththatAliceMorgan,writerofromantic novels.

  "Ifonlyshewereawriterofsciencefictionnovels,maybeI'dhavesomethingtotalkwith herabout."

  "Youŕeanidiot"mysistersaid.

  TheDate

  Todayisthedayofthedate, andIalmostforgotthankstotheimbecileofJohnLogan,thefood criticwhomusthavebeenignoredallhislife. Ifnot,Ican´texplainwhyhehassuchabitter andcomplicatedcharacter.

  I don´t find it difficult to find clothes for the occasion. Some jeans and a dark blue shirt seemlikeagoodchoice.

  Ishavemybeardstrategically,makingitseemalittlesloppy,andIapplyafewdropsof themasculineperfumethataccordingtothecommercials,neverfails.

  Readyinafewminutes,butwithsomedelay,Ienterthroughthedoorofmyrestaurantwith theprideandsatisfactionofseeingitfullofpeople.ItisaFridaynightofJuly,itśsomething normal that people would like to get out more than in winter. Still, I'm happy. The other restaurantsIpassedthroughweren´tevenhalffullasmine.Ilooktowardsthebar,thatAlice mustbewaitingforme.AndImustbelucky...Iseeaspectacularbrunettewithgreeneyesand a tight but at the same time elegant black dress, sitting at the bar. She seems to wait for someone, while she gazes at her perfect red nail manicure and sips the red wine from the glass.Ibitemylowerlip,smileandapproachherinsinuatingly.

  "How are you, beautiful? " I ask, avoiding at any moment to look to her provocative neckline.Takingintoaccountthatsheisfortyyearsold,shekeepsherselflookingveryyoung,I think,lookingintohereyes.

  ThatAlicesmirksatme,butdoesn´tanswer.Sheseemsrathershy.

  "Mysisterdidnottellmeyouweresobeautiful."

  Shefrowns,seemstomissmycomment.Idon´tgivemoreimportanceandIaskforanother glass of red wine for me. I still look at her, she does it too, although it's a strange situation, becausethatAlicehasn´tsaidawordyet;ForthefirsttimeinmylifeIwanttogivemysistera hugfororganizingablinddateasGodintended.Ihaven´tyetseenthewriterśbottom,butafter seeingallherattributes...mmm...I'mlookingforwardtotakinghertobed.

  "I can´t believe it! Alice Morgan! I'm a big fan of your books! Oh, God, how exciting!You'llseewhenItellmyhusband!Willyousignmeanautograph?"

  Thenasty,squeakyvoiceofawomaninterruptsmythoughtsandpuzzlesmewhenIrealize thatIcouldn´tpossiblybesolucky.Thebrunetteisn´tAliceMorgan.AliceMorganissitting next to her and indeed, you can tell that she is forty years old. She is dressed in an eye-catching,tightreddressthatlooksspectacularonherslimfigure,butatnopointdoIthinkit suits her age. She is blond, has blue eyes and full and quite desirable lips. Even so, the wrinklesatthecornersofherlipsandeyesindicatethatsheisawomanwithalongbaggage behindher.Andhonestly,Iliketheeasy.Thesimple.TherealAliceMorgancan´tbeeasy,a one-nightstand.That'snotwhatIwantrightnow.It'swhatI'veavoidedallmylifesincethat summerinTuscanywithIsabella.

  Abituncomfortableasitisobvious,Alicefinishessigningherautographonthewoman's neck,smilesobliginglyandthengivesmeacoldlookthatindicatesthatshehasbeenwatching myflirtingwithmy"no-date".Howembarrassing!WhatwillItellCindy?

  "You...areyouAliceMorgan?"Iask,disappointedbymyconfusion.

  "Yourblinddatetonight,butatseeinghowexcitedyouwerewithher,I'dbettergo.Your sisterwascompletelywrong."

  Icanunderstandfromthetoneofhervoicethatshedoesn´twanttoseemupset.Butsheis.

  Ofcourseshe'sdisgustedtohavecomeacrossanassholelikeme.

  "Comeon,ithasbeenamisunderstanding"Itrytofixit,moresothatmysisterwon´ttell meoff.

  ButwhenAlicegetsupandgoesslowlytowardstheexit,Iseetheenemyenteringthrough thedoor.IforgetaboutCindy,IforgetaboutAliceandIforgetaboutallthehorribledatesthatI mayhavehadinthepastandthatpossibly,arewaitingformeinthefuture.Thatfuturethata damngastronomiccriticnamedJohnLoganwantstodestroy.

  Johnlooksatmeseriously.Hisexpressionwithsmalleyesthatonlystandoutforhishorn rimmedglasses,iscoldasaniceberganditwantstotellmewithoutwords,thatmycareeris over. With a gesture he tells me to go outside and of course, I expect an embarrassing discussionindefenceofmyprofessionalcareerandmygoodnameasachef.

  "John, please understand it was just a mistake. The seabass got burned a little, okay, so what?Couldn´tyouturnablindeye?"

  "Ofcoursenot.Johnlaughs.Noself-respectingfoodcriticwoulddosoandsuchathingfor aguyheenviesandhates."

  "John,itcanhappentoanyone"Isay."Ifyouwritethatreview,you'llruinmycareer,you understand? Do you know how much it costs someone to be valued in this country? Do you know how many sacrifices I have had to make to become the best? "You can make my restaurantslosestars"Isaydesperately.

  "DearMarkHope"hesaysatlast,shakinghisheadandsmiling"It'snotmyproblem.Not onlywastheseabass.Letśaddtheservice,theawfulwaitressandthemessthatwasonthe restaurant.Nottomentionthedirtinthebathroom."

  "Thatcan´tbetrue."

  "Mark,howoftendoyouvisityourrestaurants?"

  "Everyday."

  "TheoneinSanFrancisco,doyouhaveitundercontrol,too?"

  "Igotherethreetimesamonth."

  He snaps with his tongue, a strange noise that ends up pissing me off and I lose my temper.Ishoutathiminfrontoftheattentiveeyesofthepassers-by,Ispeakofhowbadperson heiswithoutreallyknowinghimandhowbadheisathiswork.Johndoesn´tan
swer,hejust laughs,foldshisarmsandleaves.

  Ifuckeditup.

  The next day, five of the most important newspapers in New York City will have an appallingcriticismoftheprestigiousfoodcriticJohnLogan,aboutmyrestaurantsandme.My goodreputationasachefwillgotowasteandallIwant,istheearthtoswallowmeandspit meintheonlyplacewhereIcanfindsomepeace.

  CHAPTER2

  ALICE

  Hungoverandtiredafteradatethathasn´tgottobethat,Igetupthenextdayfromthebed, trying hard not to run into my daughter. Last night, as I expected, I found her asleep on the couch, so I could avoid the question: "What are you doing home so soon, Mum?" I avoided explainingmyselfandgoingthroughtheembarrassingcommentary:"Itoldyouso. You're too oldtogoforadate."God! It’snotlikeyou’remymother!

  Goingdowntothekitchen,IfindAmytryingtocookpancakes.Shehasalwaysbeenfond ofcooking,butsheleaveseverythinginamessandstillshedoesn’tcookthemproperly.

  "Pancakes?"Sheasks,withawidesmile.

  "No,justcoffee."

  I would rather eat rat poison, than those pancakes that don´t smell like pancakes should smell.

  "Whataboutlastnight,partyanimal?"Shelaughs."Atwhattimedidyoucomeback?"

  I shrug my shoulders avoiding the answer and take the first sip from my coffee. It tastes heavenlyandIbegintocheermyselfup.

  "AttenIhaveameetingwithCindy"Isay,glancingatmywatch."Whatareyougoingto dotoday?"

  Amyisenjoyingthebeautyofhersummervacation.Thefirstwithoutherfather,whohasn´t proposedhertotakehertoBaliwithhimandhisnewgirlfriend.SheknowsthataslongasI knowwhereandwithwhomsheis,Ileaveherfree.Itrusther,she'salwaysbeenaverymature girlforherage.Shegoesoutwithherfriends,Iimaginethatwithsomeboytoo...Whohasn´t doneitwithfifteenyearsold?

  "IwillmeetwithMatt."

  "Matt?Who'sMatt?"

  "Areyougoingtoaskmefortheaddressofhishouse?Hisparents'phonenumberandtheir emailaddress?HisFacebookprofile,twitterandinstagram?"

  "Notreally,sweetie.Ijustwanttoknowwhoheis.Onlythat."

  "Afriend."

  Sheturnsbacktothepancakesandjustseeinghernapeclear,Iknowshehasawidesmile onherprettyyoungface.

  "Well,I'mleaving.HaveagoodtimewithMatt!"

  I wink and leave the house, I know I wanted to be a modern mother and maybe I will regretthis position foralongtime.ThisMattwillbreakherheart.Mydaughterisoldenough tohaveherheartbroken,butasamother,itwillhurttobetheredryinghertearswhenthetime comes.

  Whileonmywaytotheagency,Iremembermyfirstlove.AmybelievesitwasJack,her father,whomIstarteddatingwhenIwasanaivephilologystudentattheUniversity.Butno,it wasn´tJack.Ikeepmyfirstloveinsecret,onlyformeanditisprobablysountilIdie.Ihave alwayshadthe"badhabit",sotosay,tokeepallthebeautyofmylifewithsuspiciononlyfor myself.Inthisway,IstillfeelthebeautyofapastthatIdon´twanttoforget.

  HisnamewasThomas,helivedinSanFranciscoandImethimonesummerinwhichmy

  father had the opportunity to be a motorhome adventurer and do mountain sports around the country. It all happened on a campground in Colorado, when I was sixteen and Thomas seventeen. He was a tall, strong with brown hair and big blue eyes like the sky. I remember each of the freckles on his tanned skin and his appetizing lips that tasted like chocolate. Our parentsbecamefriendsalmostinstantlyandwewaitedforwhatwouldbethebestweekofthat summer.Wegotonwellfromthebeginningandthefirstnight,wecontemplatedthestarslying onthefield.Thomastoldmethathelikedtoseethestarsfromhisroomwithatelescopethat his parents had given him for Christmas five years ago. When it was time to go to sleep, he stroked my arm, looked at me sweetly, and gave me the most incredible kiss I've ever been given.Myfirstkiss.Istoppedenvyingallmyhighschoolfriends,muchmoreaheadthanI,who losttheirvirginityatthirteen.Thomassmiledatme.Hewasmarkedwithlovelydimplesonhis cheeksandproposedmetobehisgirlfriendthatweek."Howcrazy!"Ithought,knowingthat whenhewouldreturntoSanFranciscoandItoNewYork,Imightneverseehimagain.But yes, we officially became "week-end sweethearts" I lost my virginity with him, I loved him with all my teenage being and afterwards, he broke my heart when he stopped writing me letterswithinthreemonthsafterweparted.IcriedlikeIhadnevercriedbefore.Ihaven´tcried likethat,notevenwhenJackconfessedtomethathehadayoungloverandthatitwasbestif we divorced. However, I try to see the positive side of things and I must say that Thomas, always and wherever he is, has inspired me in each and every one of my romantic novels. I imagine him now with forty-one years, married and perhaps with five children. Or three.

  Maybe just with a girlfriend. I wouldn´t want to think that he has become an attractive successfullawyerashewanted...Iprefertokeephiminmymemorylikethatkidwhostole myheartandisnowfat,bald,goinggreyandinneedofthickglassesinordertohaveagood sight.So,perhaps,ithurtsless.

  It crosses my mind to snoop a little on social networks on my daughter, while hoping it wereaquartertotentoclimbtotheagencyandmeetCindy.Iwalkintothecoffeeshopnextto the agency, order a latte and access Amy’s Facebook profile. I browse among her friends searchingforMatt,shehasonlyone.Bingo!Itmustbehim.Hisprofileisquiteprotected,so onlyIcanseethephotographofhisprofile.IenjoymycoffeewhileIwatchsomelivelyand brightgreeneyes,soIcantellfromthepicturereducedinsize.Hishairisjetblack,afunny tuftislooseonhisforeheadand,althoughhemustbethesameageasAmy,Iseethathehas alreadybeguntoshavethefourhairsofhisbeard.Heishandsomeandlooksnice,atleastit’s whatonecanseefrohisprofilepictureonFacebook,withawide,amusedsmile.

  Cindy’sproposal

  Expectant,thefirstthingCindywantstoknowishowmyblinddatewithherbrother was.

  "Veryattractive"Ibegintosay."Buttherewasnodate."

  ItellherMark’smistakewiththebrunettewhowassittingbesideme,theappearanceofthe short and chubby guy with designer glasses and moustache, and the little attention I received fromhim.Anabsolutefailure.Anon-datewhichendedbeforeitevenstarted.

  "Markisanidiot.Youdon´tknowhowsorryIam,Alice.Youshould’vehadagoodtime!"

  "Yeah,well...pleasedon’tsetupmoredatesforme,Cindy.Idon´tneedthem,I'mfineasI am."

  That’salie.

  How'sitgoingwiththenewnovel?

  "What new novel? " I decide to play it dumb, although I know that doesn´t work with Cindy.

  "Sothereisn’tanewnovel?"Cindydesperatelyasksme.

  Ohshit.Iknowthatlook.Iknowitverywell.IhavebeenworkingwithCindy,foryears, she is very fond of her job; but what she finds really appealing, is a writer with motivation, ideasandhundredsofpageswritten.AndI'mnotatthatpointinmylife.

  Ishakemyheadsadly.

  "What’s going on, Alice? This is serious, very serious. For years you've published two novelsayear.BestRomanticSellers.Andnow?I'mafraidthatifyoudon´tbringthisnovelin September,wewillhavetobreakthepublishingcontract."

  I collapse on the couch made of white leather, frown and I bring my hands to the face. I willnotcry,thatwouldbetooeasy.Iwouldliketoscream,butitisn´tthemostsuitableplace.

  Cindycomestomeandputsherhandonmyshoulderincomfort.Idon´tlooka
ther,butIknow she’sshakingherheadandsighing.Shealwaysdoesit.

  "Alice,youarenotonlymyfavouritewriter,youarealsomyfriend."

  "You and I know that friendship is useless with these bloody, cold and calculating publishingcontracts."

  "Ordersfromabove,Alice.ButIwanttohelpyou."

  "Areyougoingtowriteanovelforme?"Iask,laughing.

  "Notreally.Somethingmuchbetter."

  Shegetsup,goesbacktoherdesk,crouchestoopenadrawerandpullsouttriumphantly someoldandhugekeys.

  "Whatdoesthismean?"Iask.

  "Thekeytoparadise.SometimeagoImentionedthatwhileyoungIusedtosummerina beautifulcottageonahillofMontepulciano,intheregionofTuscany,remember?"Isitdown confused. No one goes there anymore, so it's all yours and Amy’s until school starts. It is a beautiful place and if a man like the idiot of my brother, doesn´t give you the inspiration to writeanewBestSellerromantic,thishouseandTuscanywillsucceed.Trustme."

  "Youarecrazy!HowwillIgotoTuscany?InahouseIdon´tknow...No,ofcoursenot."

  "Takeit."

  "No."

  "Take the keys. Take them and go away from here. Get out of the apartment that reminds youofyourfailedmarriagewiththeidiotofJackandbreathefreshair.Comeon,you'llbefine.

  "

  "Ihavesaidno."

  Cindyleavesthekeysonmyknees.Ilookforamomentandgrabthemwiththeintentionto returnthem.

  "They'reyours"sheinsists.YougotoTuscany,itisawonderfulplaceandyouwillhavea beautifulhouseforyourdaughterandforyoualone.Andithaspool!"

  "But..."

  "Thereisno but thatisworth,Alice.AndIdon´tacceptnoforananswer.IwishIcouldgo tooandleavebehindtheinfernalheatofNewYorkinJuly."

  Ismilewiththekeysinhand.NoonecansaynotoCindy.Andthoughitsoundscrazy,my daughterandIaregoingtowhatseemstobeadreamcornerofTuscany.

  CHAPTER3