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Donvino was rowing. It was his second day back on the river, and while I hated waking up at the ass crack of dawn, I was thrilled to see him in his father’s old scull once more. We were healing. Old dreams and new dreams were mingling. Mostly. Sadly, a lot was up in the air now, as the home that we had just started to think of as ours was a pile of ash. My job at the mill was being overseen by a manager from another farm outside of Livorno.
Piravino had been spotted in Greece and was now in transit back to Italy. Seems that Signora Piravino was royally pissed at her husband for running off after trying to kill two innocent men and taking every red cent the family had saved. So she had called the police with his whereabouts after he had reached out to beg her to come to Greece with him.
Good on her I say. Knowing that the bastard was going to be tried and locked up—I prayed he would be behind bars for a good long time—made it easier to sleep at night. Being next to Donvino in the yellow room with a dog snoring at our feet also helped. Yes, he was technically in the green room but only his clothes were there. He slept with me, but we did our best not to rub our sleeping arrangements under his grandmother’s nose. Giada was coming along in terms of acceptance but still insisted that unmarried people should not be in the same bed. Donvino teased her endlessly about getting me pregnant. She would blush and then call him a bad boy but always with some humor in her words now.
So it wasn’t ideal here, but it was as close as we were going to be until we figured out what was next for us. As lovely as La Villa Bonetti was, we needed our own space. Sneaking out Donvino before his grandmother arrived sucked. We couldn’t move to his old apartment in the city as that had been rented out. The manager’s home had been bulldozed under after the fire and police departments had gathered all the evidence they could.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go back to that job. While I loved working with the employees, the paperwork part of management was horrendous. Donvino, on the other hand, was ready to return to his job working on large machinery. But that would mean an hour drive to and from Florence so…yeah…
We were in limbo as we recovered from the fire. Tossing balls to terriers who never ran out of energy as we restocked our wardrobes. I tried not to think about all my designer vests, or the shoes in my closet, that had been incinerated. Oh, the shoes!
A dog shaking pulled me from my walk down not-so-great memory lane. I giggled at the spray, then ran a hand over his wiry coat. Lucia lazily swatted at the wet dog. The Chihuahuas at the gate yipped at him and then dashed off to hide under the bench where their mistress and my aunt were seated about to have breakfast.
Smiling at the dog who darted off to pester the other dogs, I saw Donvino rounding the corner, his arms flexing with each stroke as he sped along the Arno. He pulled up alongside the dock, leapt out of his boat and lifted it out of the water. He was suddenly very protective of it since the fire, which I totally understood. It was the only thing left that he owned. Quite literally. The fire had burnt his bike and my darling Bianchina to piles of cinders and melted metal. We assumed the smaller explosions that night had been gas tanks blowing up. The large one had been the natural gas. I had nightmares about fires now. Donvino was sure they would slow and then stop over time. I prayed he was right.
“Enjoy your row?” I asked as he placed the scull on the dock before rubbing at his hair with a towel that I passed up to him. My beautiful water god was still just as breathtaking as always, perhaps even more so now that he held my heart in his strong hands.
“Yes, the river is randy now. It’s good. I think I might buy a new scull next spring and pick up training again. I missed it.”
“That’s great news!” I stood, pulled my short top down to cover my navel, and went to my toes to kiss him on the mouth. His sigh of contentment made me happy. “We’ll have to find a place near the river for you to train.”
“Mm, yes, well, the Tiber would work well if we think we are going back?” He posed that to me quite often, at least once a day. Now that he was feeling better, he was antsy to get back to the life we had started outside of Valle Sicuro. I was ready to pick up being a couple alone in our own place too. I just had no clue where that place would be or what I would be doing.
“It could,” I replied and shrugged. Call me Major Indecisiveness. Why was I being so sluggardly? Donvino was back on track. Rowing, working on cars with Bianca while he waited for me to make up my stupid faulty mind. Everyone had begun to move past the fire except me. “I just…”
“I know. You aren’t sure yet. Come.” He took my hand. “Let’s go find food. I’m starving,” he said and led me through the garden gate.
My great-aunt and Señorina Cappello both glanced up from their meals. They were in the sun this morning, the shade under the pergola a bit too chilly for them. Both were already dressed for the day, my great-aunt in a light blue outfit that screamed Dolce & Gabbana, while my tutor was wearing a black tutu sort of creation with a matching turban. Her two dogs sat on either side of her feet, staring at us as Earnest and Lucia darted ahead of us. The dogs and cat had a moment of butt-sniffing pleasure with the Chihuahuas before Lucia leapt into Ginerva’s lap. Earnest laid down in the sun to nap and dry.
“Boys, come sit, please. Vittoria wishes to speak with you,” Ginerva called as a brown bird flew down from above to take a fast bath. Lucia eyed the sparrow closely but wasn’t inclined to leave my aunt’s lap.
“If it’s about Earnest, I know he’s a bit of a wild thing yet but the vet assures us that when he’s snipped, some of that spunk will disappear,” I said, padding over to the table that had been moved into the sun then taking a seat across from my aunt. Donvino lowered his sweaty body into the fourth chair, his discomfort at sitting down to eat while stinky from exercise evident.
“No, it is not about the dog,” Ginerva stated as she motioned for us to eat. There were two plates and settings waiting, so this talk had obviously been planned. Great. I spooned up some yogurt and topped it with some clover honey. “It’s about—”
“I can still speak for myself, Ginerva,” Signoria Cappello said with a snap in her tone. My aunt huffed but said nothing more, just sat back to sip her cup of cappuccino while Donvino loaded his plate with eggs, roasted tomato, fresh mozzarella balls, and bacon. “The dog is fine. I wish to discuss something about your housing situation.”
I sighed internally. Everyone seemed to be curious about what I planned to do next. Me included. I wished I had a concrete answer for them.
“I’m still weighing my options,” I fibbed, then ate a spoonful of homemade yogurt. God it was delicious. And the honey was divine. Those poor bees that had been lost. My father had already ordered more hives for the orchard. Replanting had begun. My father was a doer, not a layabout like his son.
“Ah, well, that is good, but I am speaking of my home in the city. I am giving it to you boys,” Señorina Cappello informed us. My mouth fell open but quickly shut it. My great-aunt quirked a brow. Donvino paused mid-chew to gape at the woman in the turban. “I know my time is limited.” We all started talking at once to assure her that was not the case. She held up a finger. We all fell into silence. Teachers have incredible finger power. “Stop. Do not blow air up my panties as you Americans say. I know the outcome of my life choices. I am happy here with Ginerva. I paint, I smoke my pipe—” My aunt muttered something about taking that pipe and chucking it into the Arno that her close friend ignored. “I read, I nap, and I watch you two fall more in love every day.”
I snuck a peek at Donvino, whose cheeks were now as red as the little seasoned tomatoes on his plate.
“Señorina Cappello, I can’t allow you to simply give away a property that must be worth at least a few million euros,” I gently said as I lowered my spoon.
“You are not asking, I am giving. The paperwork is done. The house is yours. Fill it with love, laughter, and perhaps some children?” Vittoria asked, her eyes bright and teasing. I could not imagine not smelling that pipe of hers or hearing her giggle with my aunt. “Do not look at me as if I am already dead, Arlo!”
“Sorry, I just…” I drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m overwhelmed with your generosity. Is there no one in your family that would be in line for your possessions?”
She scowled. “Pah, those simpletons? No. They were crude and ignorant, pushing me to wed a man who abused his first wife. I refused. I had no liking of men, you see?” I nodded. Donvino simply sat beside me like a stunned fish. “But they would not relent so I did what they wanted. I agreed to marry him, moved to Florence, and then told him to go fuck himself.”
“Vittoria, please, language.” Ginerva sighed into her tiny cup of coffee.
“Ah why should I not speak my mind? I’m old and I’m dying.” My great-aunt winced but said nothing more. “My parents were appalled, but since I was the only child, they ensured I was taken care of, not unlike you, Arlo.” I blushed. “I have lived a good life, filled with rich wine, good food, fine tobacco, and the love of a good and dear friend.”
Ginerva and she exchanged a look that tore me to bits while at the same time filled me with joy. They didn’t have to say aloud that they were in love. It was obvious. I prayed that Donvino and I would someday be old and wrinkled, yet still gazing at each other like these two grand dames were.
