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Oh-kay. That was comically biblical. Piravino stormed off to a dirty truck that bore the Bonetti family logo on the door, climbed inside it, and tore off as he threw vague threats at us.
“Wow,” I whispered, hands quaking, as the former manager of mill 20 drove off, leaving a cloud of dust and hatred in his wake. “He’s madder than I thought. I just wanted to try to explain myself.”
“He will be trouble,” Donvino mumbled as he kicked dirt over the small puddle of spittle in front of my loafers and then gave my back a soft rub.
Sadly, I suspected that he was right. We’d probably not heard the last of Signor Piravino, but that was a worry for another day. Right now, I had all kinds of workers watching me for signs of leadership that I was sure I did not possess. I squared my shoulders, wiped the nervous sweat from my palms on my trousers, and plastered on a calm smile for the people looking at me for how to respond to such blatant hatred.
“And that was not how we welcome people to Bonetti Farm 20,” I loudly called so all could hear me. “So, who would like to show me how the drought is affecting the trees in the front two hundred hectares?”
Several men waved me to the gate. The women in the office stepped out into the sun, meek and nervous. I gave them a nod and then wandered off to look at thirsty trees while my lover stayed at my side. Always within reach. Just as I hoped to always be for him.
Chapter Twenty
“Once more, you have to make sure to always send the employee monthly reviews to Signora Delvecchio in the Florence main office by the end of the month,” Lowell explained with much more patience than I was probably entitled to. I’d been trying, honestly, I had, but this job was nothing but a massive slog of paperwork. Hand to the gods all I did was sit inside all day with Lowell and the Señorina’s Teresa and Maria—two young ladies who handled the phones and my appointments—pushing papers. “It’s also imperative you do not let the weekly budgets lapse. Every entry must be up-to-date so that cost is computed effectively.”
“Right, I have notes.” I waved a hand at the sticky notes plastered to every available inch of my monitor screen. The AC was blowing down the back of my neck, giving me a slight headache. I longed to be outside where it was warm, watching the workers harvesting our olives, or perhaps sneaking a peek into the huge metal garages where Donvino would be merrily tearing apart an engine or carburetor or some other motor part thingy. He loved his new job, and I was thrilled for him. His mood and self-esteem had improved over the past month to the point where he was now saying he might invest in a new scull. I was thrilled for him. And sullen for me. I did not like being the big bee in the hive. Not one bit. “Are you sure you have to leave?”
He removed his sleek wire-rimmed glasses and nodded. The air conditioning was blowing right in his face now, rustling his white hair vigorously.
“You’ve had me for two months, Arlo. You’re quite capable of doing this job if you would simply stop daydreaming of being with the field hands and focus on the tasks of upper management.”
He sounded like my father and aunt. Both had been incredibly supportive of this massive change in my life. Of course they were. It was part of their master plan to eventually get me into my father’s seat behind the big desk back in Pindes Hill in the States. That was where he ruled the business from while Ginerva kept an eye on things from Italy. But if this was what being the kingpin was like, I was not remotely interested. I wanted to work with the employees I now knew, spend time with them, help them with work-related issues, and cooperate with the union for better conditions. I wanted to make them happy and safe. But here I was stuck in this office with Antarctic air making my sinuses cringe.
“I know. You were only here through the first harvest while I was in charge, but there’s so much more to do. I wish I had a PA like you to do all of this mindless drone work.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to know that my work is mindless. Perhaps you could hire a chimpanzee to take my place.”
“Sorry,” I grimaced as I rubbed my forehead. “You are way smarter than any chimpanzee. I’m just whiny. My head hurts. It’s Friday, and the harvest is over. The workers are going into Valle Sicuro for a party at the Peralta home. Donvino was invited, but I wasn’t because now that I’m the senior manager, I’m not allowed to mingle with the workers.”
He patted my shoulder. “I’m sure they meant no harm. It’s just not generally done. Perhaps you could work on the oversight details for the final harvest tallies while Donvino is with the other employees?”
“Yay, fun.” Ugh.
I blew out a long sad breath, sent Lowell on his way to his little rented room in the village, and said goodnight to the two young women in the front office. They chattered and waved as they left, heads together, whispering about how sad it was that Donvino was gay. I didn’t think him being queer was piteous at all. I was rather delighted that he was now out and living close at hand. He had a tiny room in the village where he spent no time because he was always at the manager’s cabin, where I now lived, in my bed.
He felt it was too soon for him to live with me because of the stigma that still weighed heavily on some of the workers. I’d not seen anything outwardly homophobic, but then again, they’d not say anything to me as I signed their paychecks. Well, a computer did that, but the point remained. I thought that my man was simply not willing to push Giada too far too fast. They were getting along moderately well when we visited with my aunt and her “friend” Vittoria, who now resided at the villa due to lingering health issues. Sadly, “lingering health issues” was lung cancer. When Ginerva had told me, I wept for hours. I’d come to adore Señorina Cappello. She was that cool great-aunt who all kids loved. We had no clue how long she had left with us but her last round of treatments a year ago—which had made her hair fall out, which explained the turbans—hadn’t done as well as they had hoped so she had declined to undergo any more radiation. To be honest, if I were her age and had lived the incredible life she had, I might refuse as well. She and her dogs were happy spending their days with my aunt, and I was tickled to spend Sunday afternoons continuing my lessons. After every successful class under the pergola, she still presented me with an orange. I would always associate the scent of pipe smoke with her.
So yes, Donvino was still concerned about his family. And that was fine. Truly. When he was ready, he knew there was room in the charming little house on the eastern edge of the farm.
The house had been left rather tidy. That had been a surprise. I’d been sure Piravino would have vandalized it, but no, he’d quietly moved out of the two-bedroom country home resting in a wide bend of the Tiber that cut through the farm. His new position outside of Pisa was all that I’d been made privy to. I’d not told anyone about the fracas with him. The man was justifiably upset with me coming in out of the blue and being handed his position. I would have been mad as well. I wouldn’t have rushed someone with the intent to harm them, but I wasn’t an aggressive personality.
I’d fallen in love with the cottage that had been built way back in the early 1900s for one of the first managers of the new mill 20. It was pale yellow stucco with a terrace, a large single bath, dark beams, and terracotta floors. The garden needed work and the artesian well was not bringing up much water due to the lingering drought, but otherwise, it was a quaint home for a starter family or a young man who was trying to lure his shy lover into taking the next step. I would be patient, though. He was worth the wait. It was only the beginning of fall now, mid-October, and we had nothing but time.
I made my way home, mind on a thousand things, and parked my Bianchina in front of the yellow-gold house. A stray dog, who I had named Earnest, roused from a nap on my front step and trotted down the weedy front walk to greet me. I had no clue who the little terrier mix belonged to. He had no collar or tattoos in his ears, nothing to show ownership. I prayed he hadn’t belonged to Piravino. If that man had left his dog behind, I would climb that leaning tower to scope him out and go kick him in the balls.
“Hey, Ernie, how are you today, buddy?” I squatted down to ruffle his ears. He was the friendliest dog I had ever known. He loved everyone who arrived at the house even the postal delivery man. Everyone who visited got lots of kisses and tail wags from the tri-colored little guy. He flopped to his back, tongue lolling, and got a few pats to the tummy before we went inside. He’d come inside the second night I’d been here because I couldn’t sleep while he was sitting outside the front door whining. Donvino and I had bathed him, fed him, and made up a bed in the corner of the living room next to the fireplace. We made posters and plastered them all over Valle Sicuro, but no one ever claimed him so by virtue of how these things worked, I now owned a dog. Another first, for I’d never entertained the idea of being a pet owner.
Donvino arrived about fifteen minutes after I had changed and showered. He gave Earnest some love and a tiny dog treat and then looked me over.
“What?” I asked as I padded about in my sleep shorts and nothing else. The house had no air conditioning, and I was roasting.
“Why are you in pajamas?” he asked as he peeled off a grease-stained tee. My eyes roamed over that hairy chest. Mm-mm-mm.
“Because I’m going to spend the night in front of the fan, reading over sales figures and then collating numbers into more numbers and then putting those numbers in columns.” I longed to wrap myself around him but he was dirty—mechanic work was horribly filthy—and stank of sweaty man.
“Oh, why aren’t you doing that tomorrow when we have off? Do you not want to go to the party?” He unzipped his jeans, peeled off them and his briefs, and my eyes could not help but dart down to his beautiful cock. Soft and thick, lying there against his thigh. When my brain shook off the cock lust, my sight flew to his grimy face.
“Party? I wasn’t invited to the party. That’s for workers only.” Earnest gave up on begging for another treat and went to the doorway to lie in the cross breeze. “You may want to move from the open front door.”
