“You have experience with children?” Hopefully nieces and nephews, or neighborhood kids—not his own.
“Not really, but I have spent a lot of time with Joseph and his daughter, Rosannah. Well, I did until two years ago when he and Rose found each other again. And I’m happy they did because their little family is finally together.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “And if it weren’t for them getting married, I might never have met you.”
Jayne’s face warmed, remembering Rosannah’s words to them as they’d stepped off the dance floor at Rose and Joseph’s wedding.
“Is Aunty Jayne your girlfriend, Uncle Rafaele? Are you going to marry her?”
He’d diplomatically explained that they had only just met, going on to say who knew what could happen in the future.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before stretching wide. “Do you remember Rosannah at the wedding in Tuscany…what she said?”
“I do.” Jayne hoped her face hadn’t darkened three shades of deep pink.
“See what I mean about the similarity between children and old people?”
Did she ever. But embarrassing or not, she wanted the child’s innocent words to come true.
Releasing her hand, Rafaele swung around and lifted the bottle from the center of the table. “Would you care for a glass with dinner?”
“Red or white?” Jayne had been so busy admiring the paintings on the walls, she hadn’t noticed the wine on the table otherwise she might’ve taken the opportunity alone to examine that too.
“Red. Sangiovese. From this region. I can get a bottle of white if you prefer, although this one does pair best with our meal.” He stretched to return the bottle to the table.
“Red’s my favorite. A glass with dinner would be lovely.”
With a nod, Rafaele attached the corkscrew to the top of the bottle. He twisted the metal device until the cork came free with a quiet pop. “We’ll let that breathe until we eat.”
“Is that your family’s wine? I saw vineyards as we drove up.”
Rafaele chuckled and shook his head. “At Villa Rossi, we don’t make wine—only sunflower oil, olive oil, and some lavender products. Our grapes are grown purely to sell to a local winery. As do many other farmers in this region.”
She pointed to the bottle. “Is that wine made from your grapes?”
“It is possible.”
“And Sangiovese…is that the name of the grape?” Jayne couldn’t resist picking up the open bottle for a closer look—not that she could understand anything written on the front and back labels.
“Yes. It’s the variety grown in this region of Tuscany.”
Rafaele poured two glasses of water and handed one to Jayne, relieving her of the wine bottle.
“Thank you.” She sipped the cold liquid as she turned back to the paintings. “These are beautiful. Quite the collection here.”
“My grandmother loves art. Every year on her birthday, my late grandfather would buy her a worthy piece. After he passed away, Nonna continued the tradition.”
Rafaele came to stand beside Jayne. She glanced sideways to see him stare at the painting next to the one she was admiring.
“Hmm, I wonder what artist’s work she’s chosen to add to her collection this year.” He turned to face Jayne. “Throughout our childhood, Nonna would regale us with stories of the galleries and churches in Firenze, Roma, and Milano that she and Nonno visited while courting. In fact, she still takes those trips down memory lane with us.”
He gave a chuckle before growing serious once more. “Unfortunately, once Nonno took over the farm from his father and their children came, they no longer had the time to spend in our beautiful cities. Subsequently, Nonno brought the galleries to her—so she said—one exquisite art piece at a time.”
“That is so romantic.” Jayne couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped past her lips.
Rafaele indicated to the place set for Jayne and pulled out her chair. As she sat, he eased the seat in behind her. She was glad—the wooden chairs looked rather heavy. How had his grandmother managed to stand up earlier without assistance? She’d pushed her chair back as if it were made of balsa wood. But emotional outbursts can give people strength they didn’t know they had.
If only she knew why her presence had upset the woman so.
Rafaele filled their glasses halfway with the burgundy-colored liquid then sat down on the opposite side of the table. He raised his glass and chinked it against Jayne’s. “To picking up where we left off.”
She’d certainly drink to that.
As he swallowed a mouthful, his cell phone began to ring. Rafaele set the glass down and pushed to his feet, tugging the persistent instrument from his jeans pocket. His gaze flitted to the screen for a moment before he glanced back at Jayne. “Do you mind if I take this? It’s important.”
Chapter Six
RAFAELE ANSWERED THE CALL AS he exited the dining room. “Ciao, Rachel.”
Rachel’s British voice filtered through the phone. “Hello, Rafaele. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Only dinner with a beautiful woman. Of course he wouldn’t tell his cousin that. He hadn’t held much hope that she’d contact him, so he was more than happy to take this call, even if it meant a few minutes away from Jayne.
“No, you aren’t. I’m glad you phoned. I hope you have good news for us.” He deliberately chose the word us, and not me, so that she would feel the sense of family importance he’d spoken to her about when he’d called her on Saturday to urge her to come to Tuscany.
“I–I do. At least, I hope it’s news you want to hear. I’ve done a lot of thinking about your invitations, and I would love to meet you and my cousins…and my grandmother. So yes, I will be there on Saturday, if that’s still all right?”
Yes! This was what Nonna needed to hear. And strangely, he was also excited to meet this cousin he never knew existed.
Now to break the news to his American cousins and siblings.
“Rachel, I know you must be feeling somewhat overwhelmed at the idea of Saturday and meeting us all, but I want you to know that we’re excited at the prospect of meeting you too. Nonna cannot wait. Thank you that I can now tell her that her prayers have been answered.”
“Um…” Rachel cleared her throat. “There is one other thing—no, two.”
“You need a ride from Florence? It’s no trouble, and you may find it easier than traveling alone in an unfamiliar country.”
“No!” The single panicked word shot out. So she really was apprehensive about the meeting. “I won’t be traveling alone. A friend will accompany me. I see Monticchiello is within walking distance of Villa Rossi. We’ll stay there.”
“If you call nearly forty minutes walking distance, then yes.” Squeezing the phone between his shoulder and ear, Rafaele reached out his hands and straightened one of the artworks hanging on the passage wall. “Seriously, there are plenty of rooms at Nonna’s house, even if you and your friend each need one.”
“I–I’ll feel more comfortable if perhaps we don’t stay in the villa. If you don’t mind. Baby steps.”
“I understand.” He would probably do the same in her shoes. “There are several nice places to stay. If you need me to recommend any—”
“Thank you, but I’ve managed to find a good place online and have already booked rooms.”
She certainly was making sure he couldn’t insist on them staying at the villa.
“You said two things…” Whatever could the second be?
“Yes. Jonathan and I have already booked our own flights. We’ll also pay for our internal travel in Italy.”
“But Nonna wanted to cover your travel costs,” Rafaele protested.
“I know. But I can’t accept charity from someone I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I’ve chosen to attend, and I’ve also chosen to pay my own way.” Her voice held a new firmness, along with a slight edge of challenge.
How to respond to
that? An awkward silence filled the space between their phones, and Rafaele hoped the same thing didn’t happen on Saturday. He had no idea how his siblings and cousins would react to Rachel.
Her voice broke the quiet. “So, I’ll see you all on Saturday, then. Six o’clock?”
“Yes. But you’re welcome to come far earlier if you like. I’m sure your cousins will want to spend as much time as possible with you. I know I would like to use every opportunity while you’re in Italy to get to know you better.” As well as another certain young lady.
“Um, I’ll try. Not sure it’ll be possible though with our travel arrangements.”
If he collected them at the airport, or their hotel, it would be totally possible, but Rafaele’s gut told him not to push any further—to be grateful she was at least coming.
“All right. Well, see you then.” He sucked in a breath. “And please, if you need help with anything, just shout.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Rachel cut the call.
Rafaele strolled to the kitchen. He popped his head inside to let Maria know she could serve their dinner, instructing her to take a small plate to Nonna as well, before returning to the dining room.
Elbows on the table, Jayne rested her chin on her hands—daydreaming or studying one of the paintings on the opposite wall, or maybe just staring through the glass panels of the double doors that led onto the patio. Her head snapped in his direction as he entered, and she dropped her hands into her lap.
“I’m sorry. That was rude,” she said. “My mother would’ve had a fit.”
Rafaele narrowed his gaze. Was she talking about him taking the call?
She laughed. “My elbows on the table…”
“Ah, for a moment I thought you were referring to my disappearing on you.”
A horrified look crossed her face. “Oh, no. Not at all. You said it was important.”
Rafaele moved his place mat and cutlery to the seat Nonna had occupied earlier and sat down. That was better. Closer.
Jayne reached for his arm. “Is everything all right?”
It was hard not to notice how soft her touch was.
“Everything is perfect.” He placed his hand over hers. “How long are you staying in the area?”
“I’ve no set plans. Although I only have my current accommodation booked until Sunday night. I still need to look for a new place to stay as they couldn’t accommodate me longer.”
“Don’t.”
Her eyes searched his. “I–I don’t understand.”
“Don’t look for accommodation. Villa Rossi is big. Why not stay here?”
What was he doing? He was supposed to invite her to the party on Saturday, not to stay…indefinitely.
Jayne shook her head “I couldn’t possibly impose on your hospitality.”
“No imposition at all. And if you’d rather work for your supper, an extra pair of hands helping with the lavender harvest, or pruning the olive trees is always welcome.”
She threw back her head and gave a delighted giggle. “I’ve never worked on a farm before. Sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”
“All depends who you’re working beside.” Rafaele waggled his brows. “Anyway, you must come…I need you here this weekend. It’s Nonna’s eightieth birthday party, and all my siblings and cousins are going to be here to celebrate. This will be a party you don’t want to miss.”
Looking away, Jayne stared past him at the wall behind. Processing his invitation? Admiring the art once again? She turned her head slowly back to face him. “B–but what will your grandmother say? She didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat earlier. I couldn’t imagine me and her, alone here together.”
Rafaele clasped her hand in his and gave her fingers a light squeeze. He stroked his thumb up and down the side of her hand. “Like I said, she has some family things on her mind that have nothing to do with you. It was actually her idea to invite you, although I promise, I would’ve gotten around to doing so myself later tonight. Besides, you won’t be alone—Maria is here too, and I’ll be moving back at the end of the week to help out here awhile.”
She flashed him a smile. “All right. I’ll come to the party. As for the other invitation…give me a few days to think about it?”
“Of course. I have to return to the city early tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back on Friday afternoon. Enough time?” Speaking of, he should have given himself until Friday before extending the invitation to stay. But what was done, was done. And frankly, he had no regrets. If he had scared her off by the invite, she wouldn’t have accepted the one to the party. He could already see her picking lavender with him next week in that big, floppy straw hat. Now he looked forward to starting his new career more than ever.
Jayne pushed her empty plate away. “That was sooo delicious. I must ask Maria for the recipe.”
Rafaele chortled. “Good luck. That recipe is top secret, and Maria does not give her secrets away. To anyone.”
“I can always try.” Jayne offered a wry smile then lifted her wine glass and swigged back the rest of the contents like a soft drink. The wine was delectable.
“Slowly, bella signora. Drink that too fast and it’ll go straight to your head.”
Rafaele rose. He stepped behind Jayne’s chair and eased it back so she could stand too.
Her head suddenly swirled, and she gripped the table. Fresh air…that’s what she needed. “Why don’t you show me the gardens?”
“I was about to suggest we take a walk to the pool house. It’s such a beautiful night.” Grasping the half-empty bottle of wine and their two glasses between his fingers, Rafaele slid his free hand into hers.
Jayne leaned against his shoulder, clasping his upper arm with her hand to steady herself. What on earth did Italians put into their wine? She’d barely had a glass. Another and she’d pass out for sure.
The fresh air outside breathed new life into Jayne’s spinning head. That’s better. A few more lungfuls of this invigorating elixir and she’d feel as good as new.
Holding tight to Rafaele, she strolled beside him into the garden filled with familiar scents of jasmine and wisteria. And something else. Something far more intoxicating than the two familiar blossoms. Something sweet, exotic, enchanting.
“What is that delightful aroma?” she asked.
“That’ll be the tiglio tree. You’ll know it better in England as a lime tree.”
Of course.
Jayne gazed up as they passed under the large, leafy expanse. Tiny pale-yellow umbrella-shaped flowers dotted the canopy.
“The trees have barely begun to bloom. The scent is only stronger because we’re right beneath the tree. It’ll become far more overpowering as the weeks go by though.” Releasing her hand, Rafaele reached up and plucked a bunch of blossoms. He handed them to Jayne.
She wrapped her fingers around the thin stem. “Thank you.” She would press this between some books once she got back to her apartment—treasure it forever.
“You must treat yourself to a bottle of tiglio blossom honey. So tasty. And healthy.”
Jayne smiled. “I will.”
“Careful here, there are a few steps.”
She lowered her gaze to the ground in front of her as Rafaele clasped her hand once more, helping her navigate the terraced garden.
Once under the pergola beside the pool, Rafaele set the wine bottle and glasses down on a low coffee table. He lit the four pillar candles standing tall beside the glasses, and a soft glow suffused the area. Jayne glanced up to admire the wisteria hanging down in purple clusters.
“Give me a moment, cara mia. I won’t be long.” He indicated a seat on one of the cushioned sun loungers before pulling another right beside hers.
Feet stretched out on the lounger, she craned her neck to watch Rafaele disappear behind a counter at the back of the pergola. Soon music filtered into the still night air. Italian. She raised a brow. Romantic… Then she heard the flick of a switch, and the trees were illuminated wi
th a soft, blue hue that swayed like palm trees in the wind as the pool water reflected against the surrounding greenery. The sight added to the ambiance.
He paused beside the table. Before she could refuse, Rafaele had topped up their glasses and handed Jayne’s to her.
“Thank you.” If she sipped it slowly, she’d be fine. The night air had already cleared away the slight buzzing in her head from the first glass. But she had to be careful—not only did she have the heady blossoms to contend with, she had Rafaele reclining beside her, closer than he’d been tonight. The woodsy aroma of his cologne made her head spin even more than the wine had.
As he raised his glass to his mouth, his arm brushed against hers, sending tingles to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
Mercy.
Jayne took a long sip too. Then another. She glanced at the half-empty glass. So much for nursing that drink.
“Let’s remember to exchange numbers properly tonight. Not on paper, but directly into our phones. Capisci?”
His voice drew her from her quandary, and Jayne raised her hand in a salute. “Yes, sssir.”
“Will you call me as soon as you’ve decided if you’re going to accept my offer to be a guest at Villa Rossi from the weekend?”
Trailing her finger around the rim of the glass, she nodded.
“I am sorry I have to return to Florence tomorrow morning but it can’t be helped. It’s my last few days there until I leave, and I have a lot of work to still get through. Not to mention an office to pack up.”
“Y–you’re leaving?” Her heart squeezed tight at the thought.
His laugh rumbled low. “Only my job. Not Tuscany.”
Her angst melted and slowly drained away. “You’ve taken another position.”
“In a manner of speaking. I’ve been granted a few months’ sabbatical from work, just to help out here. With summer on its way, there’s much to be done since my father left.”
Left? “Where has he gone?”
Taking another long drink, Rafaele savored the red liquid in his mouth for a while before she saw him swallow. “He passed away almost four months ago.”
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