Lost in Carmel

by Terri Lee

  “She's a little wary of the whole situation, but I can tell she likes him. We're taking it slow. But speaking of kids, you know I told you I was going to meet his kids over the Christmas break. I did. And it didn't go so well.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Well, that's not entirely true. His son, Marius welcomed me with open arms.”

  “Of course.”

  “But Caterina is a different story. I haven't quite figured her out. From the short amount of time we had together, I'd say she'd rather see me off at the airport.”

  “I'll bet.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Monty looked surprised that she had to ask. “Plain and simple, you're competition. Face it, her mother's been pretty much out of the picture for over five years now. Little Caterina has been the woman of the house. The apple of her daddy's eye. I'm sure she's not too excited about handing over that roll to anyone, let alone you. How could she possibly compete with Natalie Hampton?”

  “Hmm...” Natalie stared into her wine glass as if it were a magic eight ball. “It seems obvious now that you say it.”

  “That's why you've got me. I'm here to point out the obvious.

  36 Mission Accomplished

  Monty leaned back in his chair, hand on his stomach and the kind of look on his face one gets after a Thanksgiving meal.

  “That does it, I'm moving to Italy.”

  Nico turned to Natalie with a grin. Mission accomplished. Several courses had been devoured over several hours along with a couple bottles of wine. Nico, in charge of ordering for the table tucked into a quiet corner in the back of his favorite restaurant, was a king charming his guests with the very best his kingdom had to offer.

  Plate after plate was ceremoniously delivered to the table. Each dish more delectable than the last, starting with Fiori di Zucca Fritti, delicate fried zucchini blossoms. Pasta was followed by Scottaditto, lamb chops so hot and crispy they burn your fingers. Natalie placed her silverware on her plate in defeat long before the guys gave up.

  She pushed the hair back off her face. Though the January night was cold outside, a fire burned cozily in an old stone fireplace nearby. The warmth of the room and the animated conversation had her pulling off her cardigan and hanging it on the back of her chair. She turned back to look at the faces of the two men in her life and sighed. Contentment ran in a deep vein. This. This moment was everything. Monty loved Nico. She could tell. Even a stranger could read the moment. Nico regaled the little group with a story and as usual the room tipped toward him which had Monty leaning in to catch every last word. She knew the feeling.

  It reminded her of a dinner a few nights ago with an intimate group of Nico's trusted friends. He'd seemed proud to show her off and prouder to include her in his inner circle. Sitting around a table with a group whose first language is not English was a blessing in disguise. It had her leaning in further, listening harder, watching their faces intently to make sure she was getting every word and meaning. She found that it made her more connected. They would slip easily between both languages. A mixed salad of Italian and English and laughter. There amid the passing of plates and babies, love and pasta, she was a part of it all.

  Now, Nico's philosophy that there was always room for one more had him gathering Monty into his circle. His laughter was hearty and genuine as Monty matched his dinner companion with story for story. She joined in the hilarity, tears running down her cheeks.

  Monty's English major, long buried beneath Hollywood shenanigans, came out to play when he recognized an obscure bit of poetry Nico was quoting. After that it was dead poet’s bingo, as each man raced to the finish line with his favorite quotation. She'd lost control of the conversation somewhere between Shelley and Keats, but she didn't need to understand what they were talking about, she could listen to Nico's chocolate coated words for days.

  She sat there, her chair up against an ancient stone wall, drinking in the moment along with a slow sip of Italian wine. The planets were aligned.

  I could live here forever. The thought nestled in her lap.

  “Earth to Nat.”

  Natalie turned her attention to Monty. “Yes?”

  “Are we boring you?” Monty teased.

  Natalie’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Not at all, old friend. Just soaking up the atmosphere.”

  Soak it up she did, letting the moment seep beneath her skin and lodge next to her heart. These two men, representing the two distinct parts of her life had made every effort to reach out because of their love for her. She was overwhelmed with the gesture.

  Natalie was hoarse by the time the trio left the restaurant for the streets of Rome. She walked in the middle, Nico and Monty a pair of parentheses around her.

  Later, when Natalie and Monty were home, safely tucked on the sofa, Monty reached for her hand.

  “You know, Natty, I was afraid that Nico just might be a rebound romance. But girl—when you rebound, you really rebound.”

  “Go big or go home.” Natalie laughed.

  “My only question is, does he have a brother?”

  Natalie screwed up her face. “Yes. And he's married.”

  “Damn.”

  Natalie looked over at her friend, holding her heart in her hand. “You liked him didn't you, Mont?”

  “Liked him? Hell, I'm in love with him, too.” Monty patted her hand, in a motherly gesture. “You did good, baby. You know, Stan, especially in the early days always seemed a little bit in awe of you. Surprised that you were on his arm. He knew he didn’t deserve you.”

  “It’s not about whether or not he deserved me,” Natalie admonished. “But I know what you mean.”

  “I don’t get any sense of that with Nico.”

  “You’re right.” Natalie smiled. “He has nothing to prove.”

  Natalie leaned back on the sofa cushion, head tilted toward the ceiling, and breathed deeply. The night in a soft puddle at her feet.

  “So, where is this Roman romance headed?” Monty's voice drifted across the couch.

  “Headed? What do you mean?”

  Monty pressed the crease of his khakis between his fingers. “I mean, are you really planning on staying here? I know you're happy to leave Stan behind, but what about the career you've spent a lifetime building?”

  “It doesn't feel important to me anymore. It doesn't feed my soul.”

  “It might if you started getting the right roles.”

  “Maybe.” Natalie sighed. “But right now, LA seems so far away. It seems like we're talking about another person.”

  “It might seem far away, but it's your life. I know you've put it on pause right now but…”

  “You know, Monty, this is the first time in my life that I’ve been allowed to just be me. Just me and Tess. Cooking dinner, strolling through the city, no entourage, no paparazzi, no staged photo shoots, no movie set, no backstabbing. I’ve been reborn. I’m just not ready to give it up yet.”

  “I get it, baby. Really, I do.”

  She'd worked hard at shoving those very questions to the back of the closet. Now Monty wanted to pull them out and line them up on the dresser.

  “There's a little something I wanted to talk to you about,” he continued.

  Something in the tone of his voice had Natalie sitting up straighter.

  “I'm been hearing some rumblings about the studio suing for breach of contract.”

  Natalie's jaw dropped. “Suing? Me?”

  Monty lifted his shoulders in an I-don't-know response.

  Natalie leaned closer, while thoughts of lawsuits and headlines crowded around her. “What have you heard?”

  “Just gossip, nothing more.” Monty tried to soften the blow. “But you know, where there's smoke—”

  “What kind of gossip? How can they sue me? I have a doctor's release.”

  “Calm down. I don't know anything more than what I said. I just thought you should know there's talk. That's all it is right now, just water cooler gossip.”
<
br />   “If they sue… everything will come out. My breakdown—”

  “That’s why I’m telling you now. We should be prepared.”

  “And how am I supposed to prepare?”

  “Lawyer up?”

  “Another lawyer.” Natalie groaned. “At this rate, I'll have to go back to work, just to feed my family.”

  “Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Monty cautioned. “I don't want to rain on your parade, but I'd be failing as your manager, not to mention your friend, if I failed to inform you of something like this. For now, just file it away. I'll keep my ear to the ground, and I'll let you know when it's time to worry.”

  It was too late. Something ugly had crept in. It slid under the doorway and now stood in the middle of the room staring her down. Defying her to look away. Her old life had found her, and a familiar feeling gnawed at her stomach. Los Angeles was sitting on her doorstep.

  37 Reunion

  June danced into the piazzas and baskets filled to overflowing dripped their petals over iron balconies in a perfumed invitation.

  It wasn't the smell of summer in the air that had Natalie walking lighter; her divorce was nearing completion. After months of hard-core negotiations, she'd kissed the packet of financial agreements as she dropped them in the mail weeks earlier. She could almost see them wending their way across the ocean as her freedom teased a little bit closer. In the end she was giving away more than she should have, but the legal wrangling had drug on long enough. Her only desire was to be done with Stanley and his endless pettiness.

  Although there was no ridding herself of Stan altogether. She'd had to endure several conversations with her soon-to-be-ex regarding Tess's summer stay in LA. Natalie reluctantly agreed to the entire summer in hopes of earning a little good will from Stan, but now her arms felt empty knowing her little girl was so far away.

  This time Nora accompanied her granddaughter on the trip to the states, with summer plans of her own. She would stay for the entire summer, visiting friends and family, then fly back with Tess in August.

  Three long months stretched out before Natalie, and an empty apartment only served to sear the truth of the situation on the front of her brain.

  Nico interceded and said a nice long stay in Positano was just what the doctor ordered.

  She was looking forward to the trip. Natalie was thrilled to be included in the extended family vacation that included his brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephews. It would be a Di Natale reunion, with one Hampton thrown in for good measure.

  It was dusk in Positano. Her favorite hour, when the day shakes hands with the night.

  Natalie looked at the smiling faces seated around the table under the vine covered loggia, and thought, never in my life have I sat for so long, so happily at a table.

  “Some people are determined to bend food and twist it into something else.”

  Alessa, Nico’s sister-in-law, had said that morning on their shopping run. “But, when food is this fresh and this good, it’s best to just stay out of the way.”

  The kitchen was Alessa’s kingdom. During the summer months she ran a cooking school out of Villa Serenità. Tourists, mostly Americans, booked their week-long stay, months in advance, to stand shoulder to shoulder with the chef and cookbook author, whose motto was, “From the sea or the soil, straight into the pan with as little fuss as possible.”

  Tonight, they’d dined al fresco, with the full moon as a chandelier. Candles on the table were lit when the light began to fade. The massive farm table was the diva at center stage of this Italian opera. She was lovingly worn, and adorned with white linens, whose corners caught the slips of ocean breeze and danced. Natalie could imagine decades of Di Natale children playing beneath the wooden structure. It’s sturdy legs, a fortress to tiny hands. Tonight, colorful platters were displayed like offerings to a god. Filled with prosciutto, followed by pasta with eggplant, mozzarella, and Positano’s notorious cherry tomatoes. Then it was time for the fish they’d bought that morning, now happily dressed with olive oil, garlic, peppers and white wine. All of this fueled with wine. Lots of wine.

  Though the food was delectable, it was the company that had Natalie dazzled. Nico’s younger brother, Leandro, was laughing. A booming, hearty laugh. The kind of laugh that made you want to laugh, too. Even if you didn’t get the joke. Leandro meant lion in Italian, and Natalie mused that someone must have peaked into his future then named him accordingly. His spirit was infectious, and Natalie had the keen desire to move her chair closer. The same way it was with Nico. Always pulling you into his circle, into his light.

  The family resemblance was unmistakable. The same hazel eyes, same dark hair. Nico was taller, but Leandro took up more space. They bounced off one another, teased one another as only brothers can do, but the current of affection running beneath it all was deep and wide.

  There, with a full belly and even fuller heart, the Di Natale family stories wrapped around Natalie like a cashmere shawl. Warm. Worn and authentic. The history of the family as much a part of the place as the old vines that wound around the columns of the loggia. Tales having been told and retold over the years until the little ones could recite the lines for themselves. Owning their history.

  She stretched her legs and put her feet up on Nico’s chair, her ankles brushing against the fabric of his jeans. Though Nico was talking to Leandro, his hand drifted to her shin and the warmth of him on her bare skin had her purring like a kitten.

  They were like that with one another. Fingertips always reaching out, connecting, as one of them passed by. A touch on the hand, a shared glance across the room. I’m here.

  Stories were served up like a seven-course meal, just when you thought you heard the last one, the next course was brought to the table. Nieces and nephews who’d abandoned the scene some time ago when adult conversations became too boring, chased each other with high pitched squeals of laughter in the soft grass nearby. Sofia and Luca, like all Italian children, were adored. Growing up in the sunlight of that kind of love produced happy, confident children.

  Natalie felt a stab of guilt over the fact that Tess was an only child and would never have the comfort of a brother or sister with a shared history binding them together on a raft through life’s stormy seas.

  “Next time you’ll have to bring Tess,” Alessa was saying, as if reading her mind. “She’d fit right in with Sofia and Luca.”

  “Thank you, I think she’d love that.”

  “Always room for one more,” Alessa said.

  Natalie’s heart swelled at the casual inclusion. The presumption that there would be a next time. It was a family picture, and Natalie was generously offered a seat at the table. Welcomed. Fed. And showered with love. Her mind danced off to future summers with Di Natale’s and Hamptons joining forces. Cooking, laughing, and growing through the years together.

  “Speaking of one more; Pietro and Marius will be here tomorrow. You’ve met Pietro, right?”

  “Yes,” Natalie said, remembering Nico’s nephew and the espresso lesson. “He’s adorable.”

  Alessa rolled her eyes. “And don’t think he doesn’t know it.”

  “Come, little brother, let us walk off some of this meal, so we can make room for dessert.” Nico stood. “I’ll be back shortly,” he whispered in Natalie’s ear as he bent close, his lips brushing against her forehead.

  Nico scooped up Sofia, a bundle of giggles and legs, and hoisted her on his shoulders as he walked away.

  Leandro lingered for a moment and leaned across the table to take Natalie’s hand in his. “My brother is my brother again. It’s been too long since I’ve heard him laugh like that. I thank you, for giving him back to me.”

  “I didn’t do that.” Natalie shook her head. “It just took time to heal,”

  Leandro smiled as if he had a secret. “No, it took love.” Popping an olive in his mouth he grinned and headed out to catch up with Nico.

  “Leandro worships him,” Alessa said as they
watched the brothers, their laughter ringing out long after their silhouette faded into the darkness.

  “I can tell.”

  Alessa seemed to be lost in thought, her fingers tracing a lazy circle around the rim of her wine glass as she watched her husband and brother-in-law. Natalie took the moment to study her features, softened in the candlelight. Alessa’s philosophy for cooking seemed to be a natural extension of the woman. Unfussy. No need to bend or twist oneself into something you’re not. With thick lashes and liquid brown eyes, her bare face didn’t need make-up. Dark hair was pulled back in an uncomplicated ponytail. Hands were too busy creating masterpieces to worry about choosing red or pink polish. Sensing that this no-nonsense woman was the real deal, Natalie had liked her immediately.

  “He’s right you know,” Alessa interrupted Natalie’s thoughts. “It’s been a very long time, since I’ve seen Nico this relaxed. He’s himself again.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him.”

  Alessa’s sigh was heavy with the memory. “Four years is a long time to hope against hope and believe beyond reason. Claudia started slipping away after the first accident and though Nico tried, he couldn’t hold onto her. He spent every dollar he had, then he spent money he didn’t have searching for answers, a cure… and in the end he settled for the best care he could find. He never gave up on her.”

  Of course, he wouldn’t, Natalie thought.

  “Leandro and I were worried that we might have lost Nico, too.” Now she turned to look directly at Natalie. “But I think you might have saved him.”

  Natalie knew better. Nico was the shore she crashed onto. Safe. Solid. She came rolling in like high tide, but he stood like the ancient cliffs of Amalfi. Sure, and strong.

  “I think, maybe we saved each other.”

  Later that night, with the French-doors opened wide onto the bedroom balcony, Jasmine-scented air wrapped the room while Natalie and Nico lay wrapped in one another’s arms. All her curved edges snugged up next to him in spaces that seemed to have been carved out for her alone.