A Year at 32 September Way Read online

  With her father’s Mercedes parked in the last available spot at the Italian Consulate, Eva’s long legs stretched out of the car. “Oh, they’re so white,” she thought to herself with disgust. “No worries, I’ll be plenty tan once I leave the Land of Eternal Grayness to go live in the Land of Love and Sunshine.” Her long blond ponytail swung from side to side as she climbed the steps to go apply for her visa. “Three more months,” whispered Eva. “Italy, here I come!”

  ***

  Signor Benedetto was a man of routine. Although he possessed the casual and carefree nature of an Italian, he also appreciated a bit of order because it made life easier and more enjoyable for him. He enjoyed an espresso and the morning newspaper at the same café near the San Marcos piazza every morning before dividing his time at the three hotels his family owned. Despite the economy, the Benedetto family continued to enjoy a booming business in Venice, and they regularly gathered to celebrate their good fortune.

  Today Signor Benedetto celebrated for another reason. He folded his newspaper in half the way he always did, laying it on the linen-covered table next to his cup while smoothing the wrinkles from the paper. Then he wiped his hands with his napkin so as not to get any of the newspaper ink on his expensive white suit. The waiter had been surprised when his regular customer ordered a cappuccino instead of his usual espresso. “A little celebration!” Signor Benedetto had explained.

  Now he sipped his warm drink and thought about his most recent accomplishments. The Benedetto family had been fortunate enough to get an insider tip on a plum piece of property in Verona. Signor Benedetto had checked out the building and determined it would be an excellent investment for his family. His parents and brothers had all come to rely on him for the best business decisions, and he never let them down. So they backed him on this venture without hesitation. Within months of securing the property, he’d already had the available apartments rented out.

  One of the best perks to come with this newest acquisition was the extra space in the building, which provided him with a little getaway whenever he needed a break from his family. He and Carlotta had been married for thirty-one years, some of them wonderful, and they both loved their sons and daughter.

  Signor Benedetto loved his wife and remained devoted to providing for her. But, as was common in his family, he’d often taken a lover over the years to fulfill his needs when Carlotta was pregnant, caring for the children or feigning tiredness. At 51, Signor Benedetto felt no need to slow down where lovemaking was concerned. His jet-black hair, unlined face and trim physique belied his years, enabling him to romance his way into the beds of many young women. Carlotta did not feel the same about frequent lovemaking, and their nights together had become fewer and farther between. Over the past few years, her personality had begun to change and she began spending more time in Bardolino, close to her family in the vineyards and away from the hustle and bustle, while her husband remained in Venice and tended to his family’s hotel business. With each year, their lives became more separate, giving Signor Benedetto the objectivity to see that time had transformed his once-beautiful and loving wife into a cold, mean-spirited woman.

  It was during one of Signor Benedetto’s frequent trips to Bardolino to see Carlotta and select wine for the hotel that he saw the young woman for the first time. As he stood in the Bardolino Wine Museum awaiting his order, he noticed her as she entered the room. Slowly, she made her way around the perimeter of the sales room as she looked at the endless bottles of wine on the shelves. By the time she drew closer to where he stood, Signor Benedetto was buzzing as much from her presence as from the wine he’d been sampling.

  Quick on his feet as always, he’d motioned to the server behind the bar to pour two glasses of their most popular rosé. By the time the object of his attention worked her way around the room and reached the end of the wine display, he was waiting there with the two glasses in hand. She stood in front of him and smiled. At six feet tall, she was as tall as he was in his slightly heeled shoes. He extended one glass of rosé toward her and returned the smile. “I’m Marcello. Marcello Benedetto. Pleased to meet you, Signorina.”

  After that, he’d spent as much time as possible with the beautiful Eva from Germany. She was like the elixir he’d been searching for, and he savored her as often as possible. In return, he wined, dined and wooed her, letting her know what a prize she was to him. When Eva returned to Germany at the end of summer, Marcello went back to business as usual, looking forward to the weekends when she would return.

  With Eva gone and his focus back on the family business, Marcello Benedetto had acquired the apartment building in Verona. It seemed only natural to bring his “sweet rose” from Germany closer to him by offering her the extra apartment for a year. This way, he could easily spend time with her when he needed to escape the lack of intimacy and increasingly erratic behavior he experienced with Carlotta, knowing that Eva would more than meet his needs. And, when enough was enough, Marcello had the hotels in Venice where he could be alone in his suite with no one to think about except for himself.

  A smile spread across his face as he wiped a small bit of foamed milk from his moustache. “It’s the perfect arrangement,” he thought, feeling especially accomplished. He stood up, placed the crisply folded newspaper in his black leather attaché case as he did every morning, tipped his fedora to the waiter and walked through the piazza toward his first hotel. “Everything is just as I want it to be.”

  Chapter 2

  The days of summer came and went in rapid-fire succession. Half of the tenants-to-be were packed and excited to leave for Italy. One was packed and uncertain he’d made the right decision, while yet another was hoping that her last-minute tantrum might put the move on-hold. But by the next morning, all were on their way to Verona—the City of Love.

  ***

  Josh gently nudged Nicolette awake and watched as she drowsily slipped the light-blocking eye mask from her eyes, resting it on the top of her head. “Sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, “we’ll be landing in Verona soon.”

  He watched as she looked toward the small window and then quickly turned away, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. “Close the blind. It’s so bright!” she whined, covering her eyes again. “I’ll be meditating until we land; please don’t let anything interrupt me.”

  Josh signaled the flight attendant for coffee as she pushed the cart by. Oh, how he would have loved to have something a little bit stronger, but he felt certain a clear head would serve him better today. The past few months had been rough going, but he was finally closing in on Italian soil.

  He remembered the screaming fit Nicolette had had the evening he’d broken the news that they’d be moving to Italy. After that miserable night, Nicolette had continued her rant with alternating bouts of anger and fits of crying and whining. Secretly, Josh looked forward to Verona with excitement and anticipation, and he knew his wife would eventually warm up to it, too. She hadn’t done well with their move from Los Angeles to Napa Valley at first either, but she soon fell into a routine and life calmed down again.

  He watched Nicolette try to soothe her fraying nerves with meditation. Long periods of meditation and yoga had helped her overcome the difficulties she experienced when they left behind the life she loved in Los Angeles for the “calmer” atmosphere of Napa Valley. “Calmer according to you,” she’d always barked at him. “I never needed calm in the first place.”

  It had taken her more than a year to adjust to the long, quiet days that were a stark contrast to the all-night parties she’d been enjoying on the fringe of the Hollywood scene. It was at one of those parties that Josh Reardon, then an up-and-coming movie producer, had first met Nicolette. He’d loved her infectious laugh, carefree ways and California golden girl looks. He could see that she was a bit of a rebel, but that just made her all the more charming to him. Josh normally wouldn’t have been Nicolette’s type, nor she his, but something had created a mutual attraction that neither of t
hem could deny.

  Eventually, it was those same all-night parties that drove Josh to make the decision to move them to Napa Valley one year after they’d gotten married. He loved her and knew she was a sweet girl inside, but the partying was getting to be too much. Whispers of an affair flitted around the studio, and Josh had also confirmed his suspicion that Nicolette was using drugs. He’d found cocaine in her purse while she was in the shower one day.

  “It’s not mine!” she’d vehemently denied. As she stood in their bedroom dripping wet and naked, it was clear she’d lost more weight, and Josh knew she was lying. A few months later, they moved to Napa Valley and he’d convinced Nicolette to enter the top substance-abuse treatment center in northern California. It was there she discovered meditation and yoga, and they became her new drugs.

  Now, as the plane bumped along the runway and came to a slow stop, Josh could tell the fear and panic was rising inside of her as she tightened her grip on his arm. Apparently, the meditation hadn’t worked. Josh hoped she could make the adjustment.

  “Why didn’t we go to Paris?” she whined, as if reading his mind. “I was so ready to move to Paris.” She pulled the mask down over her eyes, and Josh watched as she felt her way across the armrest to clutch his arm again. Gently, he took her hand and held it between his, knowing he would have to be strong for her. As much as she cried and screamed, he loved her and had to be strong when she couldn’t do it for herself. He simply had to be.

  ***

  Carlisle looked out the window and smiled. She’d been ready to come to Verona for the past six weeks and now, after a long overnight flight, she was almost there. The items she’d decided to take with had been boxed up and sent ahead weeks ago. She brought only two suitcases with her, and the lack of “stuff” made her feel as if she was leaving behind years of pain and sadness. She was pleasantly surprised by the way her lack of luggage seemed to allow her to let go of the emotional baggage, too.

  The flight attendant interrupted Carlisle’s thoughts as she announced that it was time to turn off all electronic devices. Carlisle saved her work and shut down the laptop; her new story was coming along beautifully. Carlisle had often smiled as she typed away, feeling that the timing and flow of the story idea were additional signs that the move to Italy was a good choice. It was important to her to watch for and listen to the signs. She hadn’t always believed that, but she did now. Thanks to a painful lesson.

  For a moment, Carlisle thought back to that morning a long time ago. Just for fun, she’d always read her horoscope at the breakfast table. That morning it had said “Avoid long road trips.” And then there was the flat tire that had to be fixed. She’d ignored the signs that morning and had lived to regret it every single day for the past seven years. “Stop!” she screamed inside her head. “Stop it!”

  “Fear of flying?” the passenger next to her asked as he looked down toward Carlisle’s left hand. Carlisle quickly withdrew her hand, which had been gripping the older gentleman’s right arm. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered, struggling to gather her composure. The flight attendant slowly walked down the aisle and then stopped to pour one more glass of wine for the passenger in front of her. “I’ll have one, too, if it’s not too late,” Carlisle piped up.

  She took her first sip and peered out of the window to see the red clay roofs below. The sad memories receded again into the far corners of her mind as she began imagining life in Verona. Now, more than seven thousand miles lay between her and her old life. As soon as the plane touched down it would signal the beginning of a new life and the chance to say goodbye to the old one. “I’m ready,” murmured Carlisle, “I’m ready.”

  ***

  Charles wiped his sweaty palms on the cotton handkerchief he’d taken from the pocket of his trousers. Up until the moment he left for the airport, he’d continued to second-guess his decision to leave London for Verona. His father’s words reverberated in his ears after he’d given his parents less than twenty-four hours’ notice that he was leaving.

  “You can’t be serious, my boy!” the elder Winsdorth had retorted. “Compromising your position at the bank for a whim? Why, I cannot believe it! You must call them now, Charles. Call them and tell them you’ve made a grave mistake. Well, don’t just stand there like a spineless jellyfish…call the bank’s emergency number and get in contact with the president straight away.”

  Charles had actually held the phone for a few seconds before walking over and replacing it on its cradle. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” he’d responded quietly as he bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I’ll ring when I’m settled.” As he walked out the door of his parents’ house, his father had remained frozen, speechless and completely flabbergasted.

  Thank goodness for Sofia’s phone call that evening to wish him a safe trip, or he might have never gotten on the plane. She had been tremendously helpful to Charles in finalizing all the details for his sabbatical. She’d even helped him find a quaint little apartment in the center of Verona, not far from where she loved to hang out. “That way, at least once a month you’ll have a familiar face not far away,” she’d said with a lighthearted laugh.

  Even as the airplane descended toward Verona, Charles nervously wondered if his father hadn’t been right. Maybe he was a spineless jellyfish after all. Maybe the best thing he could have done was to remain at the bank and continue working his 14-hour days until he retired. But something inside told him there was more to life than just that, and there was a chance he might find it in Verona. “Why not?” Charles asked himself, wiping his palms again. “Whatever it is I need, I already know it isn’t in London.”

  ***

  Eva stood on the platform at the Dusseldorf train station waiting for the high-speed train to Munich. She would have an hour or two to kill there while waiting to continue the journey that would take her over the Alps to Verona. Marcello had insisted on arranging it all for her. “The scenery is too beautiful to miss, and you can’t enjoy or appreciate it from an airplane. You must see it…I want you to see it!” he’d responded emphatically when she asked if it wouldn’t be better to fly. After all, they could be together in a matter of hours if she arrived by plane. But he was insistent that she take the scenic route so, here she was, still slightly bleary-eyed and waiting for the train at 6 o’clock in the morning.

  She settled into her seat by the window and sipped the coffee she’d purchased in the café car. With her long legs, long blond hair and high cheekbones, Eva drew the attention of men and women wherever she went. The women were generally unfriendly, cold and unwelcoming; they couldn’t bear having to share their perceived territory with another woman and let Eva know it by ignoring her or looking at her as if she were nothing. Thankfully, she had noticed that the women in Italy were not the same way. They seemed more friendly, open and unconcerned about the possibility of having to share space and attention with another woman. It was a welcome difference, and Eva hoped to make a few women friends while living in Verona.

  Most of the time, the men around her were overtly charming or polite in the hopes of becoming the object of her attention and affection. But Eva was no longer interested in the men in her country, or any other country for that matter. She’d met her true love in Italy and was going to spend time with him every day once she moved to Italy. Sometimes, as she lay awake at night thinking of Marcello and their nights together, Eva had envisioned a summer wedding next year amongst the vineyards or along Lake Garda. She was sure that Marcello would propose after they’d been together for a while. He was such a romantic, and why would he want her to come to live in Verona if he wasn’t serious about their relationship?

  The hours flew by as Eva gazed out the window and daydreamed about her life with Marcello. Soon, the train was pulling into the Munich station. She collected her luggage and walked to a small café inside the station to enjoy one last cappuccino in Germany while waiting for the next train. She opened the zip pocket on the front of her purse and unfolded the
note she’d received from Marcello a few days earlier. She lifted the paper to her nose and with closed eyes drew in the last bit of aftershave scent. Slowly, she reread the words on the paper, savoring each one even though she’d read the note about fifty times:

  My Sweet Rose,

  I am so happy for you to finally come to Verona. I have thought only of you day and night, longing for your sweet smell, your gentle touch and your beautiful smile. We will finally be reunited at the Verona train station and then I will take you to your apartment, where we can again be as one. My heart and my body have been aching for you, but I take comfort in knowing that we will be together again soon.

  Yours,

  Marcello

  It was a dream come true, Eva thought as the train pulled out of the Munich station. At 21, she’d met the man of her dreams. Now, one year later, she had finished university and was moving to the City of Love to be with him, and she just knew it would be for the rest of her life.

  Eva had never intended to fall in love at such a young age, nor had she expected marriage to be part of her near future. Not for years to come. She’d made big travel and career plans for herself and didn’t need anyone in her life to complicate things.

  But that was before she’d met Marcello. Meeting him had changed everything, and she’d gladly given up her New York travel plans and the job offer in the finance department at one of Dusseldorf’s most prestigious public-event planning firms. “Thankfully, Daddy never caught wind of that,” Eva thought. He’d allowed her to go to Verona instead of New York, but he’d have never let her pass on such a plum job, especially since they were willing to let her delay her start until she returned from New York.

  “No matter,” she thought, as she settled back into her seat. “By 6 o’clock this evening I’ll be in Marcello’s arms again, and nothing is more important than our love.”

  ***

  The first tenants for the Benedetto family’s newly acquired apartment building were scheduled to arrive mid-morning. Marcello had spent the night with Carlotta, who had once again politely denied his amorous advances with the usual excuse of a wine headache. “How convenient it’s become to help run a vineyard,” he’d thought while lying awake on his side of the bed.