A Year at 32 September Way Page 8

  ***

  Tenant Get-Together and Dinner in the back courtyard.

  Tonight at 7pm. Bring a dish to share.

  ____ Salad

  ____ Bread & Cheese

  ____ Dessert, Wine

  The handwritten paper sign hung inside the foyer where everyone could see it as they walked in or out the front door. Carlisle was just getting ready to check off bread and cheese when the first-floor apartment door opened and Nicolette stepped out, groggily scratching her head. Carlisle had looked for her and knocked on her door several times the past couple of weeks, but to no avail. Now was her chance to catch up with the neighbor she’d inadvertently stood up a while back.

  “Oh, Nicolette, I’ve been hoping to bump into you. I’m so sorry to have stood you up a few weeks back. Something happened; if you’d let me buy you a cappuccino one morning, I’d love a do-over. I’d really like to be friends” Carlisle offered.

  Her tall, beautiful neighbor seemed barely coherent, which Carlisle thought was odd given the late hour.

  “Sure, we can try again,” Nicolette responded before glancing at the sign. She looked at Carlisle. “What’s this?”

  “A potluck, I guess,” Carlisle answered. “Tonight, in the back courtyard. I’ve never even ventured back there. But I’m going to go. How about you?”

  “Why not?” Nicolette responded as she grabbed the pencil that dangled from the sign and checked off bread and cheese. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Thank goodness for second chances, Carlisle thought as she marked off dessert and wine before heading out for a morning walk. The past several weeks had been all about second chances and, after a shaky beginning, she’d done her best to view them as the gift they were. The fact that Will and Anna were never coming back had been the most excruciatingly painful truth she’d ever had to face, and she was certain that running from it for seven years had only compounded the pain of finally accepting it.

  In the weeks that followed, it had all caught up to her. Each day was filled with a mixture of tears, remembering happy times with her husband and daughter, more tears and the slow rebuilding of her inner strength. By the end of her first month in Verona, Carlisle vowed to make a new start, no matter how slowly she needed to move with it. She owed it to herself to live life in the present instead of always running from the past. Will and Anna would have wanted that for her, too.

  Slowly, she resumed her daily walks to explore different parts of the city. She spent her days working on a new novel, and she was amazed at how inspired she suddenly felt—the words flowed. Carlisle had even started working with a tutor once a week to learn the language. Maria was both a patient teacher and kind person, which helped Carlisle build her confidence.

  Sometimes, as she sat by her kitchen window and worked on her writing, Carlisle saw Nicolette and her husband coming and going. She’d also seen a man about her age with wavy brown hair come in and out of the apartment building, occasionally accompanied by a beautiful, young Italian woman. He must be the neighbor upstairs, she’d guessed. Maybe his Italian girlfriend had posted the sign about the potluck dinner. Carlisle looked forward to meeting her other neighbors and getting to know all of them better. She’d had enough of her self-imposed solitude and knew that making friends was the next step in her second chance at life.

  Carlisle walked past the tomb and private church once owned by the historical Scalagieri family. Just beyond the Piazza delle Erbe, down at the end of the street, stood a small bakery run by an older Italian woman whom Carlisle was sure made all the beautiful desserts and pastries herself. She’d treated herself to a pastry or cookie now and then, but mostly just admired all the cakes decorating the large picture window. It was clear they were made with the best ingredients, along with a large dose of pride and love. When she marked off that she would bring the dessert to dinner that night, Carlisle decided she finally had the perfect excuse to buy one of those beautiful Italian cakes.

  She peered in at the cakes on display and saw the round woman standing behind the counter with her gray hair pulled back in a bun. The baker glanced up from the confection she was making and waved at Carlisle. Taking that as her cue, Carlisle walked into the bakery. “Buongiorno, Signora,” Carlisle said, smiling.

  Using a combination of pantomime, broken Italian and broken English, the two women discussed the occasion to come up with the ideal dessert. In the end, the tiramisu won out over the yellow cake decorated with white frosting and fresh strawberries, the chocolate cake laden with hand-grated chocolate shavings, or the fruit torte topped with copious amounts of fresh whipped cream. Carlisle had tasted tiramisu in Verona, and it was even better than the tiramisu she’d enjoyed back in Seattle. This woman’s version was certain to be amongst the best in Italy.

  ***

  Nicolette sat on the couch in a semi-stupor drinking a cup of coffee. She didn’t really feel the need to be friends with her neighbor from the second floor. It had actually been a month and a half, not a few weeks, since Carlisle had stood her up, and Nicolette had moved on to greener pastures.

  As it turned out, she’d had no problem meeting and making new friends each night when she went out on the town, just as she had the night before. There was a regular group of men and women her age that met at this club or that club, depending upon the night, and Nicolette didn’t really feel like befriending a neighbor she knew she’d have little in common with. But then she relented and decided “what the heck?” Knowing someone in the building might come in handy one day.

  But the woman from Seattle would serve as a backup friend, Nicolette decided, and not someone she’d invest a lot of time in. Since she began venturing out that first night Josh was away on location, Nicolette had continued going out on a regular basis. Except for weekends when he was home, of course, because she knew he would never approve. The crowd she spent time with was a comfortable, fun-loving set, and she looked forward to enjoying the nightlife with them whenever Josh was away.

  Nicolette’s newfound friends and social life in Verona were definitely not something she intended to share with Josh; he’d never understand how alive it made her feel to be surrounded by the excitement of those unpredictable evenings. Initially, Nicolette felt sure she’d be very unhappy in Verona, but things had certainly changed. She loved her life here now; well, at least her nightlife.

  Fortunately, the dinner with other tenants was timed well. Josh was on his way home from Tuscany for the weekend, and they normally spent the first night in. Nicolette weighed their typical sedate Friday night plans against the prospect of a potluck dinner with the other tenants, and suddenly the potluck dinner didn’t sound as boring anymore. Plus something told her it would be a good idea to go.

  “Well, then I guess I’d better wake up, get myself ready and head out for some bread and cheese,” she told herself. Maybe she’d pick up a few things for Josh, too. The refrigerator was all but empty, and he normally went shopping when he returned each Friday. But this week she’d surprise him with some fresh fruit and vegetables. It was the least she could do in return for the social freedom he’d unknowingly gifted her with.

  ***

  “It looks like you’re stuck with salad,” Sofia told Charles. She was visiting again from London, and she and Charles had planned some outings together. They were just heading out for lunch when the handwritten sign posted above the mail slots caught Sofia’s eye.

  “We don’t have to attend, you know,” he gestured toward the sign, knowing Sofia had some places in mind she wanted to show him that evening.

  “No, I think it’s a good idea for you to get to know your neighbors. Besides, it might be fun.” And so it was a done deal. The two friends headed out for a light lunch and then were off to the market to buy salad fixings.

  Charles had kept in touch with Sofia since she’d found him a mess on her first visit. The young woman had been tremendously kind and patient with him, and he knew what a rarity that was. He had never experienced such care and concern in
his own home. Charles knew his mother loved and cared for him; she had showered him with love when he was a young boy. But his father was of the mind that a young boy becomes a man only if you treat him like one. By the age of thirteen, Charles’ mother had been told there’d be no more “coddling.”

  When beautiful Sofia Benedetto found Charles two weeks after he’d moved into his Verona apartment, he’d fully expected her to be disgusted with his state. But she’d been nothing of the sort. In fact, she’d shown him patience and a gentle kindness that was both calming and healing. At the end of that first weekend, before Sofia left to return to London, she made sure that Charles felt ready to be alone.

  “I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” he’d responded, and he’d meant it. He was amazed at how much stress, fear and emotional pain he was able to let go of in one weekend just by having someone understand him and validate his feelings. Sofia was easy to talk to, and the stress of trying to live up to his father’s demands was released as the two talked throughout the weekend. By the time she asked him if he would be okay when she left, Charles felt he was ready to begin a new life outside of his father’s shadow and was thankful to have a wonderful new friend.

  Since then, the two had kept in touch by phone. Charles told Sofia about his explorations of the city, and Sofia filled him in on all the comings and goings in the bank office, letting him know that his temporary replacement was not a joy to work with as Charles had been.

  “I’ll make it up to you with dinner the next time you’re in town. Would that do?” he’d asked her during their last phone conversation.

  “I’m not sure dinner will pay the entire debt,” she teased, “but it’s a good start.” Instead, they’d be attending the dinner at the apartment building. He’d have much rather had Sofia to himself, but meeting the other neighbors was a good idea. They’d just have to dine alone another night.

  Charles was growing fond of Sofia; he didn’t want to let on because he’d come to treasure their friendship and didn’t want to spoil it. He looked forward to the occasional weekend visits and late-night phone calls, and they meant a lot to him. But he didn’t want to push his luck and take the chance of ruining a good thing when he had it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like if Sofia were more than just his friend.

  “Charles, are you going to help me with these vegetables?” Sofia smiled at him, giving him a friendly elbow in the side. “You’re off in your own world, aren’t you? Come back and help me make this salad.”

  He looked at the array of fresh cucumbers, eggplant, ripe red tomatoes, olives and leafy romaine lettuce on the counter and shook his head, smiling. Sofia stood near the sink in a simple blue cotton dress dotted with tiny flowers. Charles chopped the vegetables as she directed, while holding up his end of the conversation about what the other tenants might be like. But his attention was on Sofia, the musical sound of her voice and the sweet, fresh smell of her hair. For the moment, nothing else mattered; Charles was content just to enjoy her company and the wonderful effect she was having on his life.

  Chapter 8

  Eva stood in the middle of the rear courtyard and looked around. Her modest but festive decorative efforts had turned the simple courtyard into a garden with a relaxed dinner party ambiance. Three bouquets of fresh flowers from the market decorated the long wooden table she’d managed to inch out from a closed storage space underneath the steps. The table sat in the middle of the yard with several mismatched chairs around it. Brightly colored paper lanterns were strung along the top of the courtyard fence. When the sun set, Eva knew their colorful light would reflect and dance throughout the yard. Simple white column candles in small grapevine wreaths decorated each place setting on the table, ready to add a bit of classic beauty to the table when it grew dark. All she needed now were the guests.

  Glancing at her watch, Eva decided to go upstairs and get the lasagna she’d just taken out of the oven. It was 7 o’clock and the other tenants would be arriving soon. She expected them all to come, whoever they were, because the three food choices she’d listed on her dinner invitation had all been checked off. As she walked up the four long flights of stairs, Eva smiled and clapped her hands together. She was so excited to meet her neighbors.

  When she came out of her apartment with the lasagna pan in her hands, Eva saw a brown-haired woman bent over the table, smelling the flowers. The woman wore a white cotton dress that was adorned with a red poppy pattern and cinched at the waist with a thin black leather belt. “How pretty she is,” Eva thought as she walked down the stairs.

  “Hello!” she called out to the woman in the courtyard.

  The shorter, brown-haired woman turned around and gave Eva a friendly, warm smile. “Hi, I’m Carlisle. You must be the hostess of tonight’s party.”

  The two exchanged the traditional Italian kissing of each other’s cheeks and smiled. Both women were relieved to find that the other possessed a laid-back, relaxed personality, not the catty attitude that so many other women demonstrated the moment they were in the company of other women.

  “I have white wine chilling here,” Carlisle gestured to the bucket at the end of the table, “and red wine here. I wasn’t sure which would be appropriate for the dinner, so I brought both. The decorations are beautiful. I’ve never been back here.”

  The brunette looked around the back courtyard. How could she have possibly lived here for two months and explored so many streets of Verona without even being aware of the courtyard behind her apartment building? She chuckled out loud to herself.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Eva.

  “Oh, I just find it ironic that I’ve been busily exploring Verona and never even bothered to explore behind my own apartment building. I didn’t even know this courtyard existed!” Carlisle laughingly admitted.

  “Well, if you think that’s bad,” Eva countered, “I didn’t even know I had neighbors until recently!”

  They laughed and chatted together until a man with wavy brown hair and a young dark-haired, olive-skinned woman entered the rear courtyard from alongside the apartment building. The couple smiled as they strode toward Eva and Carlisle, who were standing with wine glasses in hand in the center of the courtyard.

  “Buona sera, good evening,” Sofia said as she kissed each woman on both cheeks.

  “Oh, your Italian is perfect!” marveled Carlisle. “And this must be your husband.” Both women turned their attention to Charles, whose cheeks had reddened at the assumption.

  “Sofia and I are friends,” he corrected politely, “and I’m afraid my Italian is not so perfect.” The three women laughed, and Charles enjoyed knowing they found him witty.

  “My dear friend Sofia is from Italy, so she does have an advantage with the language,” he continued. “We’re both happy to be here this evening, and I’m happy to meet my neighbors.”

  The brightly colored salad they’d brought joined the chilling wine and tiramisu at the end of the long wooden table. Eva handed her two newest guests glasses of wine. Carlisle’s mistake had been understandable; these two looked like a happily married couple if she’d ever seen one. Eva raised her glass, “Here’s to getting to know the neighbors.”

  Glasses clinked, and the four made small talk as Eva looked around. “Bread and cheese” had been checked off, too, and she wondered who the missing neighbor was.

  As if reading Eva’s mind, Carlisle thought out loud, “I wonder when Nicolette and her husband will be here. Nicolette’s the only neighbor I’d met until tonight.” She described their first-floor neighbor as a natural Hollywood beauty with unforgettable good looks and told them all how relieved she’d been to meet her and enjoy coffee together that morning several weeks ago.

  Eva eyed the lasagna, worrying that it would get cold if they waited much longer. But she didn’t want to be rude either and start without the missing neighbors. The others were enjoying the small talk, and Eva smiled to herself. The evening had started out well, and she really liked Carlisle, S
ofia and Charles. She was getting ready to suggest they sit down to eat when a tall blonde with the Hollywood beauty Carlisle described rounded the corner on the arm of a man who could certainly hold his own in the looks department.

  Carlisle stepped forward to greet them, politely introducing Nicolette to the rest of the neighbors before turning toward Josh. “You must be Josh; I’ve heard wonderful things about you!”

  Josh stepped forward and greeted each of the three other women with a kiss on each cheek before heartily shaking Charles’ hand. “Thank goodness…another man on the premises!” He and Charles laughed together, agreeing that it was always good to have another man around.

  All the while, Nicolette stood back a bit, politely responding to questions but never fully participating in the conversation. Carlisle wondered why her friend was being so shy; she’d come across as the life of the party before. She started toward Nicolette when Eva tapped a fork against her wine glass to get everyone’s attention.

  “Why don’t we continue the conversation over dinner?” she said, gesturing for everyone to take a seat.

  The six people talked and slowly enjoyed their meal together. Sofia had suggested eating the dinner in courses the way friends and family often did in Italy when they gathered together for a meal. As wine glasses were emptied and refilled, the laughter grew a little bit louder and sprinkled the conversation more frequently. The last rays of the sun were about to fall below the horizon when Eva realized she’d forgotten to light the candles.

  “I’ll just run in for some matches,” she explained.

  “No, allow me,” interrupted Nicolette. “I need to use the ladies’ room anyway.”

  These were the most words Nicolette had strung together the entire night, Carlisle thought. “I wonder what’s going on.” Her curious author’s mind had been running in high gear, wondering if perhaps Nicolette and Josh had been arguing. But Josh was relaxed and enjoying himself; he didn’t look the least bit stressed.