“I guess that’s where I’m going to stay,” she said quietly, her voice slightly echoing in the empty house. It all felt so strange and familiar at once. Her father’s presence seemed to be everywhere—his sweater at the door, a bathrobe and some other clothes and underwear in the closet, shaving utensils in the bathroom. It was if he would step into the room at any moment.
In California, Sofia had taken leave of her father during and after the funeral, but here in Tuscany where he’d lived his secret and second life he was still present. Nobody seemed to have moved his things, as if the family still expected him rather than his American daughter.
“Dad?” Sofia’s voice broke. No, she couldn’t go there now. If she started to cry now, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She pushed her pain down, opened the suitcase, and took out her cosmetic bag. In the bathroom she washed her face, combed her hair, and put on lipstick. She left her cosmetic bag on the chair and decided to remove her father’s old cosmetics later.
At the door she wondered if she needed to lock the house. It seemed like such a safe and peaceful environment. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary, but Sofia had money and a few valuables in her travel bag. Used to locking doors in California, she stuck the large old-fashioned key into the keyhole and turned it, smiling at the squeaky sound.
Chapter 10
Back in the main house, Julietta was busy setting the large dining table with rustic-looking plates and bowls, some plain white and others with a blue-and-white pattern. Sofia counted seven place mats. From the kitchen came a delicious smell of meat and Sofia felt her stomach growl. The glass door to the patio was open now and Adriano stood outside next to a fairly tall and very slim man with curly black hair and a short beard. He and Adriano seemed to be engaged in a lively discussion underscoring their points with hand gestures.
When Sofia stepped outside, both men turned to her. Adriano gave her a quick smile. “Ah, Sofia, please meet signor Santucci, signora Santucci’s brother.”
The man stared at her with piercing dark eyes. The corners of his thin lips pointed downward, which made his scowl even more pronounced. For a moment Sofia didn’t know what to do, then she walked up to him and stretched out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
He gave her what appeared to be a disapproving look and hesitated. Sofia wondered if she’d made a mistake, but Europeans shook hands, didn’t they? He finally responded, but his handshake was limp. “Benvenuta, signora,” he said but in a tone that sounded less than welcoming. He continued to stare at her, more questioning now than disapproving.
“Please call me Sofia,” she said, trying for a friendlier atmosphere.
He nodded, then after a slight hesitation: “Edoardo.” He turned back to Adriano and said something in Italian. They two men continued their discussion and Sofia felt out of place. She finally went inside and asked Julietta if she needed help.
“No, grazie, everything is ready,” Julietta said. She went into the hallway and took a few steps on the stairs, then called “Nonno, mangiare.” After a few more calls, a door opened upstairs with a squeaky sound and someone responded in a grumbling voice. Julietta smiled at Sofia and lifted an eyebrow.
The door to the kitchen opened and Luisa brought in a large steaming bowl of soup, minestrone from the looks of it. She was followed by her mother whose name Sofia didn’t know yet. As before, she gave Sofia a look of suspicion but then seemed to make an effort to be civil. She motioned her to be seated. Julietta brought in a jug of water. After putting it on the table, she sat next to Sofia. Adriano and Edoardo came inside. Adriano sat across from Sofia, and Edoardo picked up a bottle of red wine that was sitting on the table and got ready to open it. He looked at Sofia and pointed at the bottle.
“It is from your vineyards,” he said in clear English.
Strangely enough the man who was least friendly to her, aside from the old woman, was the first one to officially acknowledge Sofia as the owner of the vineyards. Everybody else so far had referred to the fields as Henry’s property.
While Luisa was ladling out soup, the door opened with a bang and an old man stepped into the room. Sofia detected right away that he must be Edoardo’s father. He was skinny like his son. His face was lined with age but he still had a full head of black hair with very little gray or white. He was supporting himself with a cane. As he approached the table, Adriano rose and greeted him with a respectful “Buongiorno dottore.” The old man glanced at him and nodded but didn’t return the greeting. His lack of courtesy didn’t seem to surprise or bother Adriano. He sat down again and smiled at Sofia.
While watching dottore Santucci shuffle to the table, Sofia asked herself what kind of a doctor he might be. It was only now that the old man noticed her. He stopped short and stared at her. The way he glared at Sofia made his son’s initial disapproving demeanor seem almost friendly. The piercing eyes of the old Santucci were outright hostile. Then, as if her host remembered that he owed her at least some civility, he bowed his head slightly. “Buongiorno, signora,” he said briefly, then sat down, not paying attention to her anymore.
Sofia didn’t make any attempt to ask him to call her by her first name. His behavior toward her certainly didn’t encourage any familiarity.
They began to eat and after Sofia’s frazzled nerves from the encounter with the old Santucci had calmed a little, she was able to taste the admittedly delicious food. Lunch seemed to be the main meal here. After the soup was finished, plates with chicken, fish, and several kinds of vegetables, among others eggplant, tomatoes, and different kinds of zucchini squash appeared, carried in by the old Mrs. Santucci and Luisa. Edoardo poured the wine. Everybody raised their glasses and toasted each other, everybody except for the old people. The old Mrs. Santucci was quiet and kept to herself. Her husband glared at Sofia as well as at everyone else occasionally. At least he didn’t single her out anymore, Sofia thought, somewhat more at ease. Besides, she probably wouldn’t have to deal with him much, since he was old and retired. Luisa and Edoardo were in charge of the estate.
To Sofia’s relief, the grandparents left after lunch. Adriano, Sofia, and Edoardo sat in the living room, drinking espresso while Julietta and Luisa cleared the table and cleaned up in the kitchen. Sofia offered to help but Luisa told her to relax and entertain the gentlemen. Sofia had smiled at the proposition. Obviously Edoardo and Adriano didn’t need to be entertained. They were soon again engaged in a lively discussion and from the little Sofia understood, it was about politics. Not being able to follow the talk in Italian and feeling tired from the heat, the wine, and the filling lunch, she had a difficult time keeping her eyes open.
“Would you like to have a riposo?” she heard someone say and realized that she had nodded off. Adriano looked at her amused.
“Sorry,” she said, feeling embarrassed.
“No need to apologize,” Edoardo said in an unusually friendly tone. “It is the heat and the food. We all take a break after lunch.”
“Would it be possible to show Sofia her property a little later?” Adriano asked Edoardo.
Edoardo’s face puckered as if he had bitten into a lemon. However, he nodded. “Yes, once it is a little cooler. Would this be all right?” He gave Sofia a questioning look.
“Oh, yes, great,” she assured him.
“Bene,” Adriano said. “I will visit my friend in the next town but I shall be back later in the afternoon.” He turned to Sofia. “Perhaps you can take a nap?”
“That would be great. I am a little tired.” Sofia got up, eager to have some time to herself. She walked the short path to her house. The sun was at its hottest and Sofia was relieved to notice that it was pleasantly cool inside the house even without air conditioning. She poured herself a glass of lemonade and went upstairs to lie down on the bed. After drinking the refreshing liquid, she fell asleep almost instantly.
Chapter 11
A shadowy figure walked toward her. As it came closer, Sofia thought she recognized Julietta or perhaps her mother. The
figure smiled at Sofia and moved her mouth as if she was talking but there was no sound. When she was right in front of Sofia, the smiling face turned into an ugly mask. The skin peeled off and fangs protruded from her mouth. Sofia was paralyzed and something or someone was choking her. She heard a scream and woke up, realizing it was she who screamed. She was panting and sweat poured down her face. She looked around the room. It was empty. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she lowered her feet to the floor.
“What a nightmare,” she whispered. She couldn’t remember ever having had such a shocking dream. It must be her anxiety, which had been building for weeks. She shook her head, then waited until her heartbeat felt normal again. Brushing her tangled hair out of her face, she looked at the clock on the night stand. It was five in the afternoon. She must have slept for three solid hours. She got up and opened the shutters all the way. Outside, dark clouds had formed on the horizon and a breeze kicked up. It felt like a thunderstorm was brewing, which might also explain her headache.
In the bathroom, Sofia washed her face, then went downstairs. She drank another glass of lemonade and stepped outside on the patio. There was definitely a change in the weather. The temperature had dropped. She heard someone at the front door. She went to open but realized she hadn’t locked the door. Julietta came inside.
“Signor Gori is here,” she said after giving Sofia a quick hug. “Zio Edoardo wants to take us to your vineyards, now that it is a little cooler.”
Sofia touched her forehead. “I have a headache. It feels like before a thunderstorm.”
Julietta nodded. “Yes, we think there will be rain.” She motioned Sofia to sit down. “I will do a … what do you call it? A massaggio.”
“Thank you. It’s called a massage.” Sofia sat down. She flinched when she felt Julietta’s hands on her neck, thinking back to her nightmare.
“Hold still,” Julietta said. “It is not going to hurt.” She gently rubbed Sofia’s shoulders. After a while, Sofia was able to relax enough to feel the tension lessen.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “You’re an expert.”
“I do it for Mamma sometimes,” Julietta said. “When she has a headache.”
After a while, Juliette stopped and Sofia got up. “I feel much better. Thank you.” Sofia looked outside where the sky had darkened with clouds. “I hope the storm won’t damage the vines.”
“The rain will make it cooler and that is good for the grapes. As long as there is no hail. Hail can do a lot of damage,” Julietta said.
Sofia nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go and join the others.”
When they stepped outside, a gust of wind greeted them. They walked over to the main house where Edoardo and Adriano were waiting outside. Edoardo glanced at them with his usual scowl, then motioned at an old van. They climbed inside and he drove along the path past Sofia’s house. After a few minutes he stopped the car at the side of the road. They got out and Edoardo led them to a large field that stretched along a hill. From the position of the sun that occasionally peaked through the now increasingly thick clouds, Sofia recognized that the hill was facing the west and southwest.
“This is one of your vineyards,” Edoardo said. “The other field is right on the other side of the road.”
“They are in an ideal spot,” Sofia said.
Edoardo glowered at her. “Do you know anything about vineyards?”
Sofia stared at him, getting irritated at his seemingly patronizing question. “I’m not an expert but I used to work on a vineyard in California a few years ago with my ex-husband and even earlier with my father. I know a little something. I know for instance that the sea, meaning the Mediterranean, is to the west here, which means the vines will get the sea breeze in the afternoon. I also see that the vines are planted in horizontal rows along the slope, which makes for good drainage but prevents erosion. Perhaps you don’t think Californians know anything about growing grapes and making wine, but they do.” Her face felt flushed.
Edoardo held up his hands. “I apologize. I did not mean to question your knowledge. California wine has a very good reputation. Your father always brought a few bottles and they were excellent.”
Sofia was embarrassed at her angry outburst. “Yes, there are good winemakers in my country. But I would love to learn more about the way wine is grown and made here. I would like to help with the work.”
Edoardo’s face softened somewhat. “We would appreciate your help. We are always shorthanded, especially during harvest time and even now during inviatura, how do you call it?
“Veraison,” Sofia said. “The time of ripening.”
“Yes, it is somewhat late this year because spring and even early summer have been unusually cold.”
The tension that had been growing between them was diffused, at least for the moment. They all walked along the edge of the vineyard and Sofia got excited when she saw the beautiful grapes that were a mixture of deep blue and purple next to the green ones that weren’t ripe yet.
“Are these Sangiovese grapes?” she asked.
“Yes,” Edoardo said and pointed to the other field. “And these are Merlot grapes. There the soil has too much clay for good Sangiovese grapes. But it is perfect for Merlot. Your father’s wine is a blend of Merlot and Sangiovese.”
Sofia sighed. “Yes, Henry had shipped bottles of it to California. It is an excellent wine. I just didn’t know it was from his own vineyard.”
There was a moment of silence. To change the topic Sofia asked if she could taste one of the grapes. Edoardo nodded and pulled off a small cluster of the ripe berries and handed it to Sofia. The grapes weren’t too sweet yet. They had thick skins and lots of seeds and a puckery taste.
“They’ll make perfect wine,” Sofia said with a smile.
“They sure do,” Adriano said. “I love the wine from these fields and from the estate in general.” He smiled at Edoardo who acknowledged the compliment with a nod.
Just as they were heading back to the car, Sofia saw the old Santucci stand at the edge of the field, staring at them with his usual angry look. Edoardo waved to him but the old man didn’t wave back. He merely kept on walking along the path, hitting the ground with his cane and seemingly muttering something.
“Shall we give al dottore a ride back?” Adriano asked.
Adriano is too polite. Sofia sighed inwardly. She wasn’t eager having to ride back with the rude old man in the car.
“He has his own car,” Edoardo said to her relief and pointed at an old beat-up Fiat, which was parked near their van.
After their visit to the vineyards, Adriano went to stay with his friend for the night. Sofia turned down Luisa’s invitation to have supper with them. She was tired and worn-out from the day and wanted to be alone for a while. And she was in no mood to endure more of the old Santucci’s hostile eyes.
“Besides,” Sofia said. “I want to try the wonderful food in the welcome basket.”
Luisa seemed to understand her wish to relax alone in her home. “Your father sometimes had lunch with us but made his own supper,” she said. “There is a nice grocery story in town and Julietta can show it to you one of the next days. You can use our car. I want to give you some coffee for tomorrow morning. And if there is anything else you need, let me know.”
Luisa seemed to be making an effort to make Sofia feel more at home here. Sofia told her that Adriano would take her to Cecina to rent a car. She gratefully accepted the tin of coffee and went back to her place.
In the meantime, the wind had picked up even more. Just as Sofia reached her house, the first raindrops were beginning to fall. She closed the glass door to the patio and the windows upstairs, then sat down and prepared herself a light meal of cheese, salami, and bread. She drank a glass of wine from one of her father’s bottles. It was delicious, fragrant, smooth, with a light touch of tannin and Sofia savored each drop of the rich and flavorful wine.
After finishing her meal, she poured herself another glass and sat in the livi
ng room, watching the stormy scene outside. The rain had stopped again, but the heaps of dark clouds still looked ominous. Tired from the wine, the food, and the emotional day, Sofia went to bed early.
Chapter 12
In the middle of the night, Sofia was awakened by loud thunder and the sound of heavy rain. The window she’d left open was swinging back and forth and she got up to close it. Outside, lightning lit up the landscape, and thunder and lightning happened almost at the same time, which scared Sofia. It meant that the lightning was very close, too close for comfort.
She tried to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. Electricity must be off and Sofia didn’t have a flash light or candles. Another raucous thunderclap made her heart jump. She looked outside again, where another streak of lightning lit up the landscape. She thought she saw someone standing outside in the garden, someone with a cane.
No, that wasn’t possible. Certainly the old Santucci wouldn’t be outside during this pandemonium. She waited for another lightning strike and again she thought she saw a figure but a fierce gale tossed rainwater against the window and she couldn’t see anything clearly. More thunderous noise but now it seemed to come from downstairs. Was someone at the door? Nobody in his or her right mind would be outside, but then the old Santucci didn’t seem to be in his right mind to begin with. But the door was on the other side of the house and not where she had seen the figure. When she thought she heard pounding at the door, she grabbed her robe and went downstairs. She crept toward the entrance hall with her hand on the wall, trying to orient herself in the dark. Now she heard the knocking on the door clearly.
The Italian Sister (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 1) Page 6