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She raised an eyebrow. "Still keeping your other life a secret?"
I nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. "It's complicated."
Iris leaned against the door frame, her eyes thoughtful. "Secrets have a way of coming out, Austin. Especially in a town like Valle di Sole."
"I know," I replied, setting the coffee down. "But for now, it's a risk I'm willing to take."
With a nod, Iris stepped out, leaving me to my thoughts. The day ahead was filled with meetings, paperwork, and decisions, but all I could think about was Paisley and the growing divide between my two worlds.
The stack of papers on my desk seemed endless, each one marked up with notes, questions, and figures. Valle di Sole was growing, and along with that growth came proposed construction plans, urban development proposals, and so much more. As I sifted through the proposed building schematics, my eyes started to blur from the minute details of city planning. I was comparing two designs for a new recreation center when my office phone pierced the quiet concentration.
"Hello, Austin speaking," I answered.
"Austin, hey! It's Mitchell from Creswell Printing," the voice on the other end greeted. I immediately recognized the jovial tone of the man responsible for printing our wine labels.
"Mitchell! Good to hear from you. How have things been at the printing shop?"
"Busy as always! And even busier since Valle di Sole's wine has taken off. But hey, I'm returning your call. You mentioned wanting to print a new label?"
I paused, glancing at the unfinished sketches Paisley had been working on. They were rough drafts, but the talent and unique touch she brought to them made the art seem alive. "Yes, that's right. We're looking to redesign our labels. I should have the finalized design ready for you by Friday."
Mitchell chuckled on the other end. "Risky move, changing something that's already so popular. But I trust you have something special in mind?"
I smiled, thinking of the radiant woman whose artistry was about to grace our bottles. "Very special. I believe these new designs will capture the true essence of Valle di Sole."
"Well, you've piqued my interest! Send them over when they're ready. And if you need any adjustments or consultations, you know where to find me."
"Absolutely. Thanks for getting back to me so promptly. Talk to you soon," I replied, feeling a warm satisfaction at the prospect of Paisley's work getting the spotlight it deserved.
After hanging up, I leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath. Juggling the duties of a mayor with the responsibilities of a vineyard owner was no small feat. However, every decision, every phone call, and every meeting was a step towards a brighter future for Valle di Sole.
The grand double doors of my home creaked as they shut behind me, the soft echo of their closing the only greeting I received. My house, a sprawling mansion that had been passed down through generations, had always been a symbol of status and success in Valle di Sole. Its walls bore the memories of countless family gatherings, holiday parties, and the mark of every individual who’d ever set foot inside. And yet, today, its vastness felt overwhelming.
I walked through the grand hall, my shoes tapping on the polished marble. Every step seemed to be amplified by the echoing emptiness of the space. Once, I took pride in living in such a home, a reflection of my family’s legacy and the work I’d poured into the vineyard. But that evening, with every echoing footstep, I was reminded of its vast loneliness.
I descended the grand staircase, making my way to the large kitchen. The state-of-the-art appliances gleamed under the overhead lights, but they also remained untouched, cold. I had cooks and staff to prepare meals, but I'd given them the evening off. So, the kitchen stood still, as quiet as a museum exhibit. A bottle of wine stood on the counter – one of our earlier vintages. Uncorking it, I poured myself a glass, but it did little to fill the void.
With a sigh, I wandered to the living room. The fireplace was set and ready, logs perfectly stacked, but I didn’t have the heart to light it. Instead, I sank into one of the plush sofas, glass in hand, letting the weight of the house press down on me.
It wasn’t just the quiet or the stillness. It was the contrast between this grandeur and the modest, warm apartment that Paisley called home. The memories of our recent encounters – her laughter, her art, the texture of her hair between my fingers – they all felt out of place amidst the opulence.
Suddenly, the mansion's luxury became a cage. Each extravagant room, each art piece, each heirloom – they were all markers of my double life, the life I hadn't yet shared with Paisley.
Setting the glass down, a decision formed in my mind. I needed warmth, connection, authenticity. I rose from the sofa, headed towards the entrance, and pulled on a jacket.
The night air was crisp as I made my way to my car. Within moments, I was driving through the winding streets of Valle di Sole, the town lights guiding my way. Before long, the familiar silhouette of Paisley’s rental came into view. Her window emanated a soft glow, promising the warmth and comfort I so desperately sought.
11
PAISLEY
Golden hues from the setting sun streaked through my window, casting a radiant glow on the canvas I was working on. Brush in hand, I dabbed a mixture of cerulean blue and soft peach, trying to capture the exact color of the sky I had witnessed earlier that morning. Each stroke was a dance, a movement of emotion and memory. My thoughts drifted, my heartbeat the only accompaniment to the soft swish of my brush. I often lost myself in these moments of creation.
I paused to pour myself a glass of red wine from a bottle I had picked up from the vineyard. The velvety liquid rippled as I swirled it, the rich aroma tickling my senses. It was one of Valle di Sole's finest. As I sipped, I felt the wine's warmth spread within me, and it seemed to enhance the beauty I was putting down on canvas.
The light began to fade, casting long shadows across the room. I turned on the lamp beside my easel, its glow lending a cozy ambiance to my studio. This was my sanctuary; the place where I felt the most alive and connected.
As I was about to take another sip, a knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. Startled, I almost spilled the wine. A quick glance at my watch told me it was a little past eight. Who could be visiting at this hour?
