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Evie
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I walk out onto the balcony and look down, rows of flowers of every color in the forefront, snowcapped mountains framing the scene all around us, despite the fact that it’s barely even fall yet.
“Nice view, right?” Chari asks beside me. “So those are actually the French Alps across the lake.”
After a long flight and even longer day, capped by a drive through some of the most beautiful countryside I’ve ever seen in my life, we finally arrived at Chari and Enzo’s Switzerland apartment.
My first time here, and already I want to come back.
“And over there”—she points to the left—“are the Swiss Alps.”
Montreux.
Before Tristano, I’d never heard of this place. Now, I am thoroughly mesmerized. Although I grew up on a lake, this is entirely different. Surrounded by mountains, this is all Europe and very little Pennsylvania. Instead of mostly trees, the landscape dotted with houses and the occasional restaurant, this one has a promenade running for as far as the eye can see below us. Hotels, restaurants, shops, all sitting on the bank of Lake Geneva.
“Can you believe this is your life?” I ask, peeking inside to where the others were just piling inside.
“No, I really can’t sometimes. But as amazing as all this is”—Chari waves her hand—“being able to help kids tops all of it.”
Chari, a former schoolteacher and reading specialist, now runs a nonprofit for struggling readers. Knowing her as I do, it’s not just lip service. She’s always been so passionate about getting kids to be proficient readers by third grade, an important benchmark according to Chari. And now she can do that, on her own terms, without being bogged down by the red tape that comes from working in public education.
I’m really happy for her.
And pretty soon, she won’t just be an old friend. Chari will be my sister-in-law.
Tris and I have talked about getting engaged, and at this point it’s just a matter of time. I made sure he wasn’t planning anything for this weekend, which is all about his parents and their anniversary. He assured me, teasing, “I will be more creative than Enzo, popping the question on a balcony overlooking Lake Geneva. Geez.”
This balcony, I realize.
As much as Tris and Enzo have come to terms with some things, apparently competing with his brother isn’t completely a thing of the past.
“I could think of worse ways to get engaged,” I told him at the time. And now that I see this place, I realize how true that is.
“Hey guys,” Chari says as Lusanne and her mom join us.
It took a lot of coaxing, months of it, in fact. But Enzo finally got his parents to agree to close the shop for a week and come to Switzerland to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary.
So of course, as is the DeLuca way, the entire family has joined them. Tris and I have both stayed open, since unlike the pizza shop, we have others managing the restaurants. But that doesn’t mean we’re totally off the hook. There’s already been one minor incident since we left at DeLuca’s, and I’m expecting a few bumps in the road too.
But to have two successful restaurants? We’ll take it. Bumps and all.
“Hi, girls.”
To say I’ve been already brought into the fold as one of the family would be an understatement.
Tris’s mom shakes her head. “Just beautiful.”
We stand there, not saying a word, appreciating the beauty of such a scene. And then, “Holy crap on a cracker.”
“Lusanne,” Mrs. DeLuca half-heartedly chastises her.
“What? I could have said worse.”
“And I appreciate you didn’t.”
“But is it that bad? I mean really?”
