Casalvento, page 25
“Surely you won’t have any trouble with this little car.”
“Do you think I’m the only one with a Cinquecento here? A lot of people have them. They are collectors’ items. But I heard you helped make tomato sauce today,” he said. “Impressive!”
“News travels fast! Or are you keeping tabs on me?”
“I like to know what you’re doing, that’s all. Eccola!”
When they arrived, he spotted a parking space and pulled in. “Now we can just walk around. There are lots of stands with local products to sample.”
Families and couples were strolling around the piazza. Erika was surprised by all the kiosks with bites of food. “We could just eat our way from one to the other. We don’t even need to go for dinner.”
Paolo put a small piece of cheese in her mouth. “That will slow down your talking.”
“Are you saying I talk too much?”
“Maybe from time to time, yes. But you’re serious, and I like that.” He pointed her in a different direction. “Now for some wine. We each buy a glass, and then we can go from one producer to another and taste their wines.”
“What an interesting idea! Why aren’t we represented here tonight?”
“Your grandfather was not a fan of events like this. He said it didn’t bring anything to our brand.”
Paolo stopped at a booth where there was a familiar face.
“Ciao, Vincenzo,” Erika greeted her cousin, but he did not return her greeting.
“Vincenzo, let us taste your Chianti Riserva,” said Paolo. When Vincenzo put just a drop in Erika’s glass, Paolo chided him. “Come on, Vincenzo, give your cousin a nice pour.”
The winemaker poured in a bit more Chianti and, without saying a word, went on to the next person in line.
“Let’s move on,” Erika said. “What a grim, unhappy person he is.”
Paolo nodded. “It’s impossible to change him. We’ve all tried. I guess he likes being this way, but it’s really too bad.”
At the edge of the piazza were stands with clothes, scarves, belts, and even shoes and handbags. Erika steered Paolo in that direction, and she bought a couple of scarves she liked.
“Oh, Erika, that reminds me … I bought you a handbag when I was antique shopping with Todd and James. I forgot to give it to you. I’ll bring it to the house.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
The band was starting to play, and the two of them walked over to the city fountain and sat on the edge to listen till it was time for dinner. At the restaurant, the owner greeted them warmly, and Paolo introduced Erika. “This is Umberto’s granddaughter.”
“Una bella ragazza. I’m Michaele, one of your grandfather’s best friends. We went hunting together all the time.”
“I didn’t know he hunted. I learn something about him every day.”
Michaele showed them to a table in the corner. “It won’t be so noisy over here.” Moments later, he returned with a bottle of Casalvento’s Chianti Classico and three glasses of Prosecco. He raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast! To you, Erika, and to Casalvento. Salute!”
Michaele emptied his glass and asked, “Do you know what you want to eat?”
Erika was perplexed. “We haven’t seen any menu.”
“You don’t need one.” Michaele took a chair, turned it around, and sat down. “I have the menu in my head: insalata, pasta pesto, and steak Florentine.”
“What else?” Erika asked.
“That’s it!”
“Yes,” Paolo chimed in. “That’s the whole menu, but it’s the best, believe me.”
“Then I’ll take the insalata, pasta pesto, and the steak.”
“Good choice,” said Paolo. “I’ll have the same, but we’ll share the steak, Michaele.”
Michaele nodded and smiled as he went to take care of their order.
“Wait till you taste the steak,” Paolo said as he poured the Chianti. “Michaele is known for it. He actually raises his own cows for the meat.”
When the meal was over and Paolo had paid the bill, Michaele came back to say goodbye. He caught Erika in a big hug and kissed both her cheeks. As they left, she saw him wink at Paolo.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“The wink he gave you.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Paolo insisted. “And now it’s almost dark enough for the fireworks. Do you want to go back to the piazza, or do you want to see them from your house?”
“Let’s go to the house.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to hurry. We don’t want to miss the beginning.”
XLI
THEY MADE IT HOME just in time to settle themselves on the stone wall, where they had a perfect view of the colorful rockets soaring into the now-dark sky. For half an hour, they marveled as the display went on and on. There were silvery sprays and red, white, and blue rockets and an explosive, noisy multicolored finish. When it was over, they went over to the kitchen and sat on the patio, not talking much, just enjoying the quiet.
Finally, Erika broke the silence. “Why don’t I turn on some music? And can you get us a little more wine?”
When she came back from the living room, Paolo was there with a bottle of Chianti, two glasses, and the opener. He watched her for a second, then opened the bottle and poured the wine.
“Is everything okay, Paolo?”
“Erika, cara, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I need to know.”
“What is it?”
He kept staring into his glass.
“Come on, Paolo. Stop this suspense.”
“I guess I need to know that you’re serious about staying here in Tuscany. That you have no regrets about Craig or your life and business in New York. That you’re committed to Casalvento and what we’ve been building with the vineyards and the estates.”
“How can you ask me that, Paolo? You saw me with Craig. I’ll never change my mind about him. And I’ve said over and over that I want to stay here and honor my grandfather’s wishes.”
“And is that the only reason you want to do this?”
“What are you really asking, Paolo? What are you afraid of?”
“Erika, this is hard for me. You know my story, and you know it wasn’t easy for me to tell you about it. I fell in love with a woman at a winery once before, and our breakup was hard. My disappointment lasted a long time, and though that’s definitely in the past, I’m afraid to have something like that happen again. I have strong feelings for you, Erika, but you’re also my boss, and that complicates things a lot.”
“Paolo, you don’t have to worry about me leaving Casalvento. I like it here … I love it here, and I’m going to stay. As for the rest, let’s not worry about that now. Besides, you have Todd and James on your side!”
He took her hand and softly stroked it with his thumb. For someone who was a farmer, his hands were surprisingly soft. Like his lips.
“We had a fun day,” Paolo told her, “and I enjoyed it very much. And I hope we have others. That reminds me, when we were in Siena, you mentioned that you’d like to go to the Palio. I asked Massimo if he could help me find tickets. We need good ones, in a place with a balcony, otherwise it’s better to watch it on TV. Massimo reminded me that the owner of the trattoria in Siena has a room upstairs that he rents out. It has a balcony, and it faces the Piazza del Campo. I called him, and he had four tickets left. I bought them for us.”
“That’s great. Thank you for thinking of it. Tell me the date again.”
“August sixteenth.”
“Who are the other tickets for?”
“I thought Massimo would come with his girlfriend.”
“He has a girlfriend?”
“Yes, it’s an on-again, off-again relationship. She’s a doctor too, and they’re both very stubborn. But personally, I think they’re perfect for each other.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s late. I better go. Happy Fourth of July, Erika.”
Erika was startled by Paolo’s abrupt departure, and after he left, she suddenly was overcome by a sadness she couldn’t quite identify. Was she ready for another serious relationship?
She took the glasses inside, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher, then locked the doors. In the living room, she put a record on the old gramophone. It was a sad song, and the sound was scratchy, but she liked hearing it. When it was over, she turned off the lights and went upstairs. Tired and a little confused, she simply fell into bed without washing her face or getting undressed.
She woke up in the middle of the night, and it suddenly hit her. It was true what Todd and James had been saying. She was in love with Paolo. All her doubts were silly. She took off her clothes and got back into bed and was swiftly asleep.
It was midmorning by the time she woke up and made herself some coffee. As she sipped it on the balcony, she saw Santo wiping down the table.
“Buongiorno,” she called down.
He looked up. “Buongiorno, Signora.”
She went over her to-do list in her head. First, she needed to call Bernardo. He had mentioned there was another letter from her grandfather, but they’d never made plans to meet. She also needed to connect with Todd about when they’d return for the harvest. And because it was Friday, maybe Doris could get some mussels and clams, and she could make Paolo his favorite dish. It still bothered her that he had left so suddenly.
When she had showered and dressed, she went down to find Doris, who was in the kitchen.
“Buongiorno, Ms. Erika.”
“Buongiorno, Doris. Could you run back to Radda and see if you can find some mussels and clams for dinner?”
“I think that it will be too late. The truck leaves at noon. Can we do it next week?”
“Yes, of course.” Erika was disappointed, but there was no choice. A call to Bernardo was next. It turned out he was away for a week on a business trip. Erika then called Paolo.
“Pronto.”
“Ciao, Paolo. I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I had a lot of fun. I still can’t get over that steak at Michaele’s and the fireworks display.”
“I had a good time as well. Are you coming to the cantina today?”
“I don’t think so. I have some calls to make. Can you come here for lunch?”
“I can’t. We have a lot going on. There are a lot of tourists here today.”
“Should I come and help?”
“No, we can manage.”
“Okay, I’ll check in with you later.”
There was still no word from Todd, so Erika took out her grandfather’s letters and reread them. But it was hard for her to concentrate. She kept thinking about Paolo and their talk the previous night. Maybe taking some pictures would help. She grabbed her camera and went down the stairs again. She was about to go out to the garden when she saw a brown paper bag on the table.
“What is this, Doris?”
“Paolo came by for a few minutes while you were upstairs, and he left this for you, Ms. Erika.”
That was strange—he had just told her how busy he was. She opened the bag and took out the gift, holding it up for Doris to see. It was an exquisite handbag—light brown with dark leather trimming. “This must be the one he bought with Todd and James.”
“Oh, Ms. Erika, it’s beautiful.”
“What a surprise! I need to thank him. Do you know where he is, Doris?”
“Yes, he told me to tell you that he was going to the chapel.”
“That’s odd. I wonder what he’s doing up there—he said there was so much to do at the cantina.”
Erika went to the garage and got the John Deere and drove it up the hill. Paolo was waiting near the cypress trees in front of the chapel. “Thank you for the beautiful present,” she told him. “I love it and couldn’t wait to tell you!”
“I’m glad you like it, Erika. Todd helped me pick it out. I have another surprise for you, too.”
He took her hand as she got out of the little tractor. “Now close your eyes, please. I’ll tell you when to open them again.” He led her around to the other side of the chapel, helping her step carefully on the uneven ground. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
There, with a panorama of Tuscan hills and vineyards in front of them, Paolo had prepared a beautiful picnic in the grass. Bread, cheeses, olives, cold cuts, and wine. She couldn’t quite believe the scene. “Paolo, this is beautiful, but what’s the occasion?”
“We had such a great time yesterday, then I left so quickly. I wanted to make up for the way the day ended. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.”
He held out his arms and pulled Erika close, as if to say he’d never let her go. Then he kissed her. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, but this is a very nice appetizer.”
Paolo laughed and let her go. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”
“You know, Paolo, I can’t shake this strange feeling that my nonno wants us to be together. In his letters, he’s always giving me little hints about you, talking about all your good qualities.”
“He loved you a lot, and I loved him too. He was always good to me. And he always had these great stories. Once in the winter, he was with the band in New York City, and they didn’t realize there was a blizzard outside. They had some drinks, and when they left, they couldn’t find their car. The snow had completely covered it, and they didn’t remember where they had parked. They had to uncover five different cars before they found the right one, and then it wouldn’t start. They ended up on the subway and didn’t get back to the Bronx until six in the morning, almost frozen. The way your grandfather told it, you had to laugh out loud. He had so many stories.”
“I want to hear them all,” said Erika. “But not just this second.” She leaned over to Paolo, who took the hint and kissed her.
XLII
THE MONTH OF JULY was slowly coming to an end. Erika had settled into a routine. She continued to put in time at the cantina and made rounds of the fields in the John Deere in the evening. She learned to cook new dishes and frequently made dinner with Paolo. They used the time to get to know each other better, telling stories about growing up and places they’d been.
Other things were still uncertain, though. Todd and James kept changing their minds about scheduling their harvest visit, and Erika was beginning to wonder if they were serious about coming.
One morning, while enjoying her morning coffee on the balcony, she realized she had never connected with Bernardo, either. The situations with Vincenzo and the contractor still made her uneasy, and she wondered about the next letter the lawyer had promised to bring. She got her phone and dialed his office number.
A recording declared that the office would be closed for the next three weeks. Three weeks? she thought. How can that be?
She called Paolo next, and he picked up instantly.
“I just tried to call Bernardo,” she told him, “but the office is closed for the whole month of August. Is that possible?”
“Oh, yes. August is the month when most Italians are on vacation. Everyone looks forward to it, and there’s a big holiday on August fifteenth called Ferragosto. The name comes from Latin—Feriae Augusti, the festival of Emperor Augustus. Schools are all closed. The beaches are packed. Traffic is bumper to bumper. It’s a crazy time in Italy.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You sound disappointed, Erika. What’s wrong?”
“I thought I would get another letter. I guess I’ll just have to wait. On another subject, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’m sorry, Erika. I’m busy with some friends.”
“Is Massimo in town?”
“I don’t know if he came this weekend or not. You have his number—call him.”
Paolo’s annoyance at Erika’s questions was audible in his voice. “Is everything all right?” she asked carefully.
“Yes.” He paused, and she felt as if he was choosing his words carefully. “But it sometimes seems like you have trouble being alone.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize,” she said.
“I can’t come for dinner,” he said, his voice more gentle now, “but can I come up in the afternoon for a second? I have something here I need to give you.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later.” She hung up, feeling worse than before. She considered her options. She no longer wanted to call Massimo. It was just nine thirty in the morning, and it was already hot, too hot for a walk. At least the thick walls and closed shutters of the house kept the place cool inside.
She tried to think of what Paolo had told her a while back, when she had complained of the heat and humidity after a particularly heavy rain. “Without the sun and rain, we would not have wine,” he had said.
Perhaps she complained too much? Had she done something to fall out of Paolo’s favor?
Maybe a swim was the answer, she thought. She changed into her bathing suit and went downstairs, still grumpy.
“Is everything okay?” Doris asked, once they’d exchanged their greetings.
“No, not really. But I’ll be fine—I’m going for a swim.”
She took some towels out and put them on a lounge chair by the pool, took off her cover-up, and dived into the pool. The cool water was refreshing and took the edge off her gloomy mood. As she swam laps, she tried to put Bernardo and Paolo out of her mind. Time slipped away, and she was surprised to see Doris walking up to the pool. “I made you a fresh salad with tomato and mozzarella,” she told her.
“Thank you, Doris. You’re an angel.”
“Are you sure you are okay, Ms. Erika?”
“I’m fine. I just have to do some thinking and sort out a few things, that’s all.”
“If you would like to talk, I’m here.”
“Thank you very much, Doris, but I have to do this on my own. I’ll be there for lunch in a few minutes.”
She got out of the water and sat down at the patio table. When she saw the salad, she wished she had her camera with her—she’d never seen a simple dish look so amazing. The tomato slices were the size of a hamburger bun, and the basil leaves that garnished them were huge. The balsamic vinegar was sweet. Well, it’s ours, she thought proudly, and it’s been aged for fifteen years. Paolo had said that the vintage that year was so bad you really could not make good wine. But the balsamic was heavenly.
