A Year at 32 September Way Page 18
How could she possibly leave this place…the first place where she’d felt completely alive? Yet, what good reason could she come up with for choosing to stay? A little more than two months was all she had to figure it out. Carlisle knew the time would whiz by like lightning, just like the previous nine and a half months had. She intended to come for one year, focus on her writing and then return to Seattle. It was such a simple plan. So why was it suddenly becoming so difficult to carry out?
***
Eva and Marcello sat on the boardwalk, not far from where he’d been shot. After careful contemplation and many discussions between them, the young woman from Germany had decided to give her boyfriend one last chance. She’d made it clear that she had no qualms about leaving if things didn’t work out, and she told Marcello that he could either commit to their relationship or forget it. Through the months of his recovery, they’d grown apart and then had come back together. Now, sitting in Bardolino, they’d come full circle. Only this time, Eva knew she was no longer willing to settle for less, and Marcello knew he would do everything to make her feel that staying was the right decision.
The two kissed goodbye and parted ways so Marcello could go to his meeting. When he arrived, a bottle of wine was already chilling on the table he’d reserved for himself and his father-in-law. He knew Eva was worried about him returning to the scene of the shooting, but Marcello had put on a brave face even though he had qualms about it himself. As it turned out, they were all for naught. Bardolino in June was a sight to see, and Marcello was glad for the few minutes on the boardwalk to drink in the fresh lake air. How ironic it was to realize that he’d missed the place he’d once dreaded so much. Bardolino was Carlotta’s home; he’d lived there with her, and they’d raised their family while working the vineyard. Verona and Venice had always been home to Marcello. Now, sitting by Lake Garda for the first time in seven months, he realized how much it had become a part of him, too.
Carlotta’s father, Vincenzo, approached the table and shook Marcello’s hand. It was the first time since the shooting the two men had sat together. Vincenzo had never come to visit Marcello in the hospital or rehabilitation center, choosing instead to use the time to visit his daughter. Marcello held no grudges against his father-in-law. Although they’d been closer many years ago, he would hardly define their relationship as ever having been truly close. In the past few years, circumstances within the business and his marriage to Carlotta had driven the two men even further apart. Sitting in his wheelchair, drinking wine and making small talk with his father-in-law, Marcello felt certain that the blow he was about to deliver would be powerful enough to pound the last nail into the coffin of their relationship.
They made small talk throughout their meal of spaghetti with mussels and marinara sauce. Neither man mentioned Carlotta or the wine business, nor did Vincenzo ask Marcello how he was doing. To Marcello, that was further support for the decision he’d made after discovering the decades of tax evasion that had made Carlotta’s family rich. He reached into his briefcase during a pause in the conversation and spread photocopies of the papers out on the table. Savoring the moment, Marcello sipped his after-dinner espresso and watched as Vincenzo reacted.
The silence seemed to go on forever until Vincenzo regained his composure and his arrogant attitude. “My family developed and nurtured the grapevines in this area for more than one hundred years. Our contribution to this town is known far and wide, and it will take far more than a few pieces of paper to change our stature here.” Vincenzo took a sip of his espresso and then turned to face his son-in-law, expecting him to back down the way he always had before. He’d come to this meeting to kick Marcello out of the family business once and for all. The family planned to celebrate that night; a pig was being roasted, and the wine was already chilling. A few signatures on the papers in his briefcase would finalize everything for Vincenzo and his family.
But Marcello faced his father-in-law squarely, feeling taller in his wheelchair than he had standing on his own two feet. In previous meetings, the endings were always predictable, but things would be different this time around. Marcello had rehearsed the words he was about to say so many times that he barely had to think about them. Nevertheless, he’d focus on delivering them to savor the impact this meeting would have on his pride, his future and the future of his family.
“I have no intention or desire to change your family’s stature here in Bardolino. Your contributions here will always be remembered and appreciated. And I’m certain the same will hold true in your new home in southern Italy…the one you’ll be retiring to very soon,” Marcello explained as he pulled nineteen file folders out of his briefcase, each one representing a year of income tax evasion. He watched his father-in-law’s demeanor change. Yet Marcello displayed no emotion, choosing to remain calm, firm and cool to the end. He removed a final file from the briefcase and placed it on top of the stack.
“The papers drawn up here explain that you’ve chosen to retire to the south for health reasons and will be taking your sons, all of them except the youngest, Louis, with you to start a smaller business there. The notarized documents outline the transfer of ownership of Via del Sol to Carlotta’s three children, with their father and your son Louis running the business.” Marcello placed a pen on top of the file folder and, without another word, pushed it toward Vincenzo. Things had come full circle and, for the first time since the previous December, Marcello swelled with pride and the knowledge that he was once again taking matters into his own hands.
***
Sofia finished telling Charles about her day at work, knowing he’d barely heard a word. She paused for a moment to get a scoop of the cold pasta and shrimp salad Charles had made for dinner. It was clear something was consuming her British boyfriend’s mind, as he’d been quiet all evening, the way he always was when pondering something troublesome.
“I see the cat’s got your tongue this evening,” she said, prodding him back to the present.
“I’m sorry, darling,” came Charles’ response. “Just lost in thought, is all.”
“Would you care to talk about it?” she pried, knowing that doing so usually helped him to talk things through. “Perhaps it would help to do so.”
“Hmm,” Charles responded thoughtfully as he rose from the table to clear the dinner dishes. Sofia joined him and began to fill the sink with hot water and a froth of soapy bubbles. They stood side-by-side as they always did after dinner, Sofia washing and rinsing, Charles drying and putting away. She knew he would talk as soon as he’d sorted out his thoughts; there was no need to prod him further. Then Charles stopped, set the damp dish towel down and turned to face Sofia. “My darling, standing over a sink full of dirty dishes is hardly the place for this conversation, but it cannot wait a moment longer.” Charles placed his hands on Sofia’s shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “The thought of leaving you behind in two and a half months with no plans for the future is simply too much for me to bear. I have never been a man to fly by the seat of my pants, and I shan’t become one now. Not when it comes to the most important person in my life.”
Droplets of soapy water slid down Sofia’s hands toward her fingers before dripping to the floor. She looked up into Charles’ eyes and heard the passion rise in his voice the way it always did when he spoke of something meaningful. Oh, how she loved this man and treasured having him in her life. She smiled at him and then was caught by surprise as he grabbed her wet hands and dropped to one knee.
“Sofia Maria Carmen Benedetto, I love you like I never thought it was possible to love another. I cannot remember my life before you, but I have no desire to return to it. The clock on the mantle will continue ticking, signifying the passing of each second as the next two and one-half months fly by. But I cannot take another step toward September 1st without knowing that you’ll still be in my life after that day.” He kissed her damp hands and looked back up toward the smiling face he loved so dearly. “Sofia, will you be my bride?
”
Sofia’s hands broke free from Charles’ and flew up to cover her mouth in time to stifle a tiny gasp. Tears of joy filled her eyes, and a wide smile spread across her face. She reached down and tugged on his hands, beckoning him to stand up. “I would be so honored to be your bride,” she whispered in his ear before he turned her head toward his and kissed her passionately. Slowly they moved in unison out of the kitchen, through the living area and toward the bed, never allowing their lips to part for more than a split second.
Chapter 20
Little did he know it, but Charles had approached Marcello at the right time. Although the two had developed the beginnings of a good relationship, the elder man was still very protective of his daughter and normally grilled Charles whenever the young couple made plans. When the Englishman knocked on the door of the first-floor apartment that morning, he’d fully expected to get the third degree and experience some resistance before Marcello would give him permission to marry Sofia. Even though it was a formality, Marcello’s blessing was important to Sofia and Charles.
Surprisingly, there’d been no resistance and no third degree, merely a couple of questions about when they wished to marry and what Charles’ intentions were for a job in Verona. Charles answered the questions calmly, waiting all the while for the real questions to begin. But they never came. His soon-to-be father-in-law asserted that he wanted his daughter married in the Catholic Church and that he wished to host the reception. Within half an hour, Charles was being politely ushered out of the apartment with a promise that he and Sofia would dine with Marcello and Eva the next night for a small celebration.
Charles was dumbfounded as he walked back up the stairs to the next apartment, and it showed on his face when he walked through the door. Sofia was preparing to head out for some errands when he arrived. “I’ve just had the strangest conversation with your father,” he said, scratching his head.
“Oh no,” Sofia answered, “I hope he didn’t give you a hard time.” She knew what a curmudgeon her father could be. He liked Charles, she knew he did. Her father would never have allowed the relationship to carry on this long if he didn’t approve.
“No, that’s just it,” Charles responded. “He didn’t give me a hard time at all. He asked me a few simple questions, and he and Eva extended a dinner invitation for us tomorrow evening. That was it.”
They both stood in the living room, looking at one another incredulously. Sofia broke the silence with her laughter. “Well, he was clearly preoccupied and you, my husband-to-be, reaped the benefit of perfect timing.” The two kissed and laughed together, still reveling in the newness of their engagement.
Charles’ mind was becoming distracted by Sofia’s kisses when he remembered a special errand he needed to run that morning. While his bride-to-be had been working during the past week, he’d been shopping for the perfect ring. The dinner celebration with Marcello and Eva would be the ideal time to surprise Sofia with it. Slowly, he broke the kiss. “You must go run your errands, darling,” he said in between kisses. “I’ve got to take care of a few things, too, but later we’ll finish what we’ve started.”
“Oh, we’re going to finish what we started, all right,” Sofia responded in her sultriest voice.
“I’m a lucky man,” Charles thought as he walked down the cobblestone street while whistling a tune. “A lucky man, indeed.”
***
Production was wrapping up for the week, and Josh sat around an outdoor table sharing wine with the other members of his team. It looked as if they’d finish the final scenes by the end of July, a full month ahead of schedule. Some of the men and women were from Italy, while others were from the United States or Canada. It had been quite an experience for all of them, and the local crew members were always interested in knowing what the foreign crew thought about living in Italy for the year. The four members from the United States and Canada all agreed that Italy was a wonderful place, but most of them were ready to return home. In fact, all of them were ready except for Josh.
Since receiving the divorce papers from Nicolette, Josh had been forced to really consider his life and where he wanted it to go from here. The last few years had revolved around Nicolette, and he didn’t regret that. But now, perhaps, it was Josh’s turn to live. Life had been like a roller coaster ride in Italy, but that had nothing to do with the country itself. The stress, sadness and heartache had all stemmed from his marriage. If anything, the little happiness he’d felt in the past ten months had come from being in Verona or Siena.
After a few conversations with some trusted friends back in California and a mentor of his on the production team, Josh decided to make a phone call to the studio’s home office to see what they had in mind for him after this film wrapped up. After relaxing and enjoying two to three months of vacation, his studio boss let him know there were a few options available to him thanks to the stellar reputation he’d built up while in Italy. “I bet you’re anxious to get back to California,” his boss said, “so I can tell you what’s coming up over here.”
“Actually, sir, some things have changed and I’m not altogether opposed to staying in Europe,” Josh responded. “I’ve grown quite fond of Italy. That’s for sure.” After talking about it a bit longer, the two men agreed that Josh should give it some thought before making a final decision. Now, as he sat under the shade of the hickory tree and enjoyed the beautiful summer afternoon with some of his crew members, everything was starting to look crystal clear.
A distant church bell rang to signal the hour and, almost in unison, the crew rose from the table. Everyone exchanged the traditional kisses on the cheeks as they wished each other a wonderful weekend. Josh’s driver Anthony started down the gravel road toward the main highway, as the small rocks crunched beneath the tires and a slight dust trail formed behind the car. Josh flipped open his cellphone, dialed and glanced out the window to see the cornstalks, which were already knee-high. The phone rang once, twice, three times before an Italian man’s voice came on the line. “Marcello, hello,” Josh greeted his neighbor and landlord, “it’s Josh. Yes, I’m fine, how are you? That’s great; yes, I’m on my way home now. Hey, listen, I wonder if you might have a few minutes this weekend. I’d like to talk to you about renewing my lease for one more year.”
***
His excursion had been a success, and Charles practically danced his way back to the apartment with the small box carefully concealed in the inner pocket of his jacket. There would be no hints about his shopping trip or glimpses into the red velvet box because he wanted to surprise Sofia the next evening at dinner. But that was a day away, and there had been the promise of a romantic afternoon with his beautiful fiancée. The Englishman had every intention of lavishing her with the attention she deserved.
Charles took a quick detour into the market at the Piazza delle Erbe and stopped at his favorite flower vendor’s booth to buy Sofia a colorful mixed bouquet. She wasn’t a roses kind of woman, preferring a mixture of daisies, wildflowers and lilies instead because, as she always said, “they look so happy and friendly.” He knew there was a bottle of wine, some cheese and fresh bread at home, so they’d be all set to stay in for the rest of the day.
As Charles continued his walk home, he marveled at the way his life had changed in one year. He shuddered as he remembered the man he was a year earlier, practically afraid of his own shadow. Moving to Verona had been a good decision after all. Once he was safely removed from his father’s shadow and iron fist, Charles had quickly come into his own and found the self-confidence that had been stifled his entire life. And then there was sweet Sofia; one year ago she’d been his loyal assistant and a good friend. Now, they were in love and engaged to be married. If this year was an indication of how wonderful the next years could be, Charles knew he had nothing but happiness to look forward to.
He was so lost in his thoughts that Charles didn’t even notice the two people sitting at the courtyard table until he was practically upon them. One glan
ce toward them was enough to nearly knock him over. “Mum!” Charles exclaimed in shock. “Father? What are you two doing here?”
“Well, that’s not a very happy welcome,” his mother chided as Charles bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Of course I’m happy to see you, but I’m shocked. I didn’t even know you were coming,” he responded, as his voice rose in excitement.
“Your mother was insistent we come to visit you since she hasn’t heard from you in a while. Two months, to be exact. I could hardly put her off any longer,” explained the senior Winsdorth sternly.
Charles’ head was spinning, and all thoughts of a romantic afternoon with Sofia were replaced with weariness at having to explain all the changes in his life to his overbearing father. He’d always intended to tell them about Sofia, but it just seemed easier not to. Then, when they’d moved in together, he considered it again, but the relief at not having to deal with his father’s inquisitions and demands had been too wonderful to give up. Now here they were, all three of them, standing by the front door of Charles’ apartment building while his bride-to-be might be lying across the bed naked, awaiting his return.
“Allow me to just check on something quickly,” Charles said as he delayed his parents for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” The elder Winsdorths stood there in disbelief as they watched their only child bound up the front steps two at a time. About five minutes later, Charles returned and invited his parents in. Sofia was decent and calmly preparing tea. She knew about her husband-to-be’s relationship with his father and was very understanding when he breathlessly explained that his parents were in the front courtyard, unannounced, and he’d still not talked to them about his relationship with her. “I’m marrying a saint,” Charles said as he kissed Sofia on the top of her head and returned to get his parents.