All In Mid-August
By
Nunzia Castaldo
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PUBLISHED BY
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Finding the Way Out
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Regarding Cat Aphrodite by Dog Briar
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You And I Poetry
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About me:
My blog: WriterNancy
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Scrittrice Nancy
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All In Mid-August
Copyright © 2014 by Nunzia Castaldo
Cover design by Loris Periani
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Two women, two different stories, All In Mid-August between Bologna and Green Island
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Law firm Stanzani
Aug. 9, 13:00
A few hours before departure, she was still working, sitting at your desk, in the law firm of which she was proprietor. Trizia checked the time: it was late and did not want to miss the plane. She had booked an apartment at Thermar and already saw the elegant costumes from the line modeled rejuvenating soak in the thermal waters. She had a desperate need to devote time to rest. She had chosen the spa vacation.
She swung her head to get rid of tiredness; saved the work and turned off the computer. Meanwhile, she blamed. Exaggerated, she was always engaged in the work, but she harbored the ambition. She was a perfectionist and never surrendered. Moreover, she had inherited from his father George. With persistence, she had become a civil lawyer estimated, and had a great clientele.
Law firm Stanzani enjoyed today of equal reputation in Bologna. From the time of George, the founder, nothing had changed. She saw him at work, sitting right behind that desk. Unfortunately he died suddenly when she was just enabled the profession. She brought it to his lips the cup of cold coffee. Close the studio made her anxious, always. Now, enough though. She tidies and away on vacation.
She moved from the desktop to the files and antique furniture that his father had bought in the fifties. The co-workers told her that it was time to change the furniture, which not represented at all, but she thought that they spoke only envy. Trizia put practices in the archive. In the background came the vibration of the vortex of cold air forced. The new air conditioner was very useful. She checked the time. An hour later she had to be at the reception desk to the airport. He hastened to place the fountain in a travel bag, linen colorless birthday of her friend Carla. Friend and companion of tourist travel. Not in that circumstance to family commitments, but insisted there was at least the bag. Here she is satisfied. Already full of the necessary watched measured, and rested on the desk, grabbing the long handles fixed to wooden oval buttons, when he heard a knock on the office door.
It was Simon, the secretary, announcing the arrival of Mr. Stephen Trombley. The lawyer picked up the cards and slipped gently into the computer case. She had forgotten the customer. Trombley, phoned, two days after the end of the study, for to have a consultation. He wanted to know what to do against the request for payment of estate tax. She replied that it was a necessary action. From what he had mentioned, it seemed possible, but it would not have been able to say with certainty. She needed to find out. She would have occurred on his return, after mid-August. The man, however, had insisted on getting an invitation. He explained that he had spoken to her on the recommendation of a client of the firm, and who did not want to wait, to keep in your head that doubt much longer. She was about to leave, he could ignore the request, dismiss it and putting it off, but she did not. She belonged, a strong sense of duty, and for that good customer of long standing, well-off and well-known in the city. She had therefore agreed to make an appointment at noon. She looked at the clock: it was nearly thirteen had little time and the trader had arrived an hour late; snorted impatient.
"Trombley," she said with a slight smile on his lips and the somewhat harsh tone in his voice. Stephen noticed. He was late, he knew, but it was from San Lazzaro, with public transportation. Then he had run down the street from the bus stop to the palace, and went up by the stairs two at a time, still panting. He pulled from his pants pocket handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "Excuse me lawyer, I could not close before the delicatessen; stayed home this year people; there is crisis."
He snorted softly. Trizia leaned back in his chair and looked at him sternly professional. "You know that if delayed more than we talked about after the holidays?" Punctuality for her was synonymous with correctness. She did not keep to himself what he thought. "He brought the dossier?" He touched the bag to pull out the stylus just placed. She was nervous.
To touch the old fountain pen fine white gold, with three small gemstones diamond clip on the cap, he reminded his father. George was the gift for graduation honors. She had separated from the more precious pen. It was a source of inspiration, whisper of approval and lobbying. She recovered his usual calm. "Here it is, as I had requested." To Stephen bothered her tone, but he showed he needed counseling. "Sit down," he said Trizia and pointed to the chair. She hastened to consult the documents. She was undecided. Focus and meticulously check the cards, as she was accustomed to do more, or browse them fast and rely on his professionalism? She strove for a synthesis.
The air conditioner could feel the rise in temperature brought by the customer hot, spinning and stronger. The noise and the rustling of the documents turned over quickly were the only sounds heard by Trombley. Meanwhile, his gaze slid around the furniture in walnut, decorated with inlays and finished briar, crammed with tomes to the library, to the index topped gatherers left in a disorderly order, under the window that overlooked the boulevards. He paused for a moment to look beyond the windows closed, the green canopy of Ipocastani. Indoor air he felt the unmistakable essence of furniture wax mixed with the smells of stationery.
Stefano appreciated the tasteful and luxurious furnishings. He was snooping on the walls, between the miniatures of medieval Bologna and among the gilt frames of academic titles on display. Suddenly, however, as he was certain to be incurred in a bureaucratic error, shifted thinking about the plot, certainly salt, to pay. He did not want give not even a penny for that matter. He was right. She was a victim. His chair creaked under him at the click involuntary nervous.
Meanwhile, the lawyer posed the dossier on the desk by big plan trimmed green briar. Quickly she informed him that it was necessary to start the application within the time specified for payment. The resort was absolutely forwarded. The detailed investigation on the possibility of winning it, made her way back. His eyes shone with bluish unbeatable force. For her pursue justice was like a mission and return peace to its customers satisfaction.
Now she explained to him that the warrant was completed and signed. They compiled. "So listen carefully, before signing up, I can see it." The voice rose and fell, jumped phrases obvious. Now she wanted to leave. The shopkeeper followed mute, sitting embedded in the shoulders a
nd tortured hands ripping the film from the nails. This time his gaze was fixed on the doctor, his straight hair. She wore long just to cover her neck. The copper shades on the red Titian, donated the character, he thought. Then he got thin eyebrows, lips swollen, his cheeks bulging.
The doctor was sensual; she was surprised, she embodied the party, could not be. The lawyer for a moment she lifted his head, pulled by a tuft glasses fell from the fringe, then moved and crossed his legs; impatient she moved to a rhythm of reading. With an eye to the mandate, she wrote the date and pointed to the black pen in the pen holder conical leather. "Here, sign here." Trombley bent over the sheet and affixed a signature flickering. He was very upset. She did not fail to notice the anxious expression on his face. Stephen spoke jerkily, trying words for the occasion, but more was what he wanted to scream for real. That store was the bane of his life. Had caused him a lot of trouble, had cost him a lot of money and did not stop to bring him bad luck. It was something about his father. Unpleasant memories resurface.
The thought of Trizia instead it was over, the things to be taken, and those to leave. Handed practice to Simon, the secretary and told him to check if the taxi had arrived. On the way back, they would have completed the act. Now, only she thought to go on vacation. Hastened to leave the office and cut short with the customer. She does not go along with. She had ranked as the guy who does not take off more than around. She did not want to be late at the boarding gate.
Stephen, however, was anxious for the bureaucratic process to deal with, he continued: "Doctor, I had some things to ask, I can feel comfortable?" Trizia meanwhile, with the shoulder bag, quickly grabbed the briefcase computer bag with the other hand and drew a red suitcase rigid wheelchair for the polished corridor.
He conveyed anxiety, reassured him, even if you do not feel the duty. "Trombley, do not worry!" Do not underestimate the demands of its customers, ever. She looked at the thin dossier in the hands of the secretary, at the door. "Let's do this: I will prepare the practice on vacation; in this way we anticipate the timing of the appeal." "Thank you, doctor, thank you." The butcher mentioned Trizia a smile and was glad. The young secretary interjected nervous, it was late for a lunch break, and he was hungry. The lawyer knew that this week, in his absence, he would take Simon calmly, but it was precisely on the job, he did not want to overdo it in the requests. She had chosen male secretary. She had no time to lose.
"Here, Dr. the taxi is waiting for her in the street, go and have a good trip!" With a smile on his lips, he ran them out fast. Simone was back at his desk, mood relieved. Finally, the doctor would not have squeezed like a lemon. She did not give him a minute of freedom! He turned off the computer and picked up the receiver. He was looking forward to the days of work without the head and the beginning of the holidays. He called his girlfriend. Meanwhile, the lawyer and his client were the flight of stairs. "Let me help." Stephen felt relieved. The practice was in good hands. He leaned forward to take her suitcase. "Blessed is she who goes on vacation, I need a vacation too; I have not been in good health, I had to make, not the story experience, now that I finally started to feel better, I get this communication; moreover want the millions by the undersigned; are dealer for over twenty years and I have not stolen a penny of taxes."
Under the complaint, unresolved situations of his adolescence, seething. He knew them. Many times he had tried to forget them, without ever succeeding. "On Trombley, has the air of a beaten dog, it is not an unsolvable problem." They got the nice gray marble staircase, holding the handrails of wrought iron and stood in the courtyard of the palace. "Now excuse me, it's getting late; I salute you." Trizia dragged the suitcase in the direction of the driver. Then, she went up the middle that slowly started down the boulevards. She looked, as usual, at the entrance to the city park of Gardens Margherita. She saw himself as a Sunday morning, with Niki, her white poodle in the basket on the handlebars, the bike went back alley, breathing the fresh air of the morning drenched in oil and pungent aromas of plantains and Ipocastani.
One Sunday morning, in the ancient and popular public park, she met Duilio. It was precisely the playful poodle them together. He was stubborn to bark, to get up on legs, to insist be picked up from him. Duilio was not insensible nor Niki, or his mistress. Fell in love. She was happy at that time. Many years had passed, because remember right now? She could not explain it. The sultry heat invaded the cockpit, while the taxi walked, slow, sunny avenues. Meanwhile, more and more nervous, she checked the time from the jewel that led connected to the place. With his right hand to support the cuff, thought too much money spent on the clock, it was a shameless luxury. Also she stimulated competition in the male colleagues. They knew appreciate their value. It was estimated. She thought that she would wear it dressed finesse.
She jumped on the seat. She had done well to take it with? Mind away from the apprehension that she was coming, suffer a robbery in places of tourism was on the agenda, but she calmed down immediately. She thought that if necessary he would use the safety deposit box. With his handkerchief wiped the glass sapphire and diamond ring. She had seized the occasion of the birthday of one of his recent reward themselves for professional success. With smug self- exaltation complimented for choosing a successful gift that was made. It was very late. Trizia invited the taxi driver to use the air conditioner and hurry that the plane was departing.
Meanwhile Trombley had stopped at the archway of the building, facing the garden and the fountain gushing in the middle of the circular tank. The artificial oasis refreshed the heat of the road. He sat down on the stone bench, on the side. Folded, with his elbows on his thighs and fingers lanky placed in support of the chin, forehead wiped the crumpled handkerchief. He talked to himself. "Damn my father who has never had concern for me, damn me too; the past always comes back to torture me." He was shaking his head.
He looked at the sculptures that surrounded the pool. There were a lion cut down on the buffalo, a tiger in a fight with the snake, and two groups of sirens between the seaweed and rocks. He saw that they were like sculptures by Diego Sarti, those in Montagnola Park. He was an expert of his beloved Bologna. He thought it was a curious choice for a private building, achieving reproductions. They figured him tribute of affection to the city. Strange coincidence played almost a metaphor for his life. It felt just like the buffalo won, not the lion, but by the power of duty and always fighting like a tiger but against snakes nested in his mind. Sirens, then, he had never encountered.
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