They were all stuck in the old ways. As an outsider, she could see the potential for this storybook village. But she would never keep her rental apartments as full as they should be, and therefore she would never make the money she deserved, if TripAdvisor only showed a handful of establishments and attractions.
That castle. If only she could persuade the town council to restore it. The Duke’s family owned it on paper, but in reality it belonged to the townspeople who sneaked into its ghost-lined walls for a spot of adventure or as a destination for furtive lovemaking away from prying eyes. Yes, she’d seen evidence of that when she sneaked in herself and poked around. She had also noticed the pile of dirty brocade in a corner of the room with the cavernous fireplace still littered with ashes. She’d run her hands along the long dining table and wondered why it had never been stolen. She’d roamed from room to room, examining the brackets for candles and the tumbled pile of what looked like charred remains of a canopy bed. No amount of reading had revealed to her the secrets tucked deep within the walls of the dilapidated castle. Yes, she had learned the publicly sanctioned stories about the Duke and his wars. But she wanted to know when it all went wrong, when the family legacy twisted back on itself. She had heard a smattering of gossip about how and why the castle was abandoned, but the stories didn’t make sense. She was sure there’d be more information about the last in the ducal line if he’d really left Santa Lucia in order to pursue his career as an Olympic fencer.
The castle could be a real draw into this backwater town. More than once she had seen tourists picnicking on the grounds. They must assume it to be public property. Indeed, Lorenzo, the town gardener, did keep the grass short and the bushes pruned on his own time. And she’d seen Ava, the florist’s daughter, planting yellow flowers around its crumbling walls. She wondered if Ava was responsible for keeping the wisteria tidy. It must be somebody, or else the vine would have taken over the whole building by now. As it was, a well-formed cascade of grape-smelling flowers covered the west wall, as well as the arbor that lined the walkway between the main building and the kitchens.
It really was a treasure, that castle. If only she could capitalize on its antique charm.
Magda sighed and continued down the shaded alley to her apartment.
Chiara returned from wiping down the tables on the terrazza.
“The wind’s picking up. Autumn is around the corner.”
Edoardo looked up from rearranging the pastries in the case to make the display appear fuller. “Already? Didn’t the students just return to school?”
“Sì, but nonetheless, there is a cool edge to the breeze. Summer is over.”
“Well, it’s about time, the heat destroys my hair.” Edoardo waggled his eyebrows at Chiara, who grinned.
“Edo, there is so much product in your hair, I’m pretty sure a land mine wouldn’t budge it.”
Edoardo snorted a quiet laugh. Chiara patted him affectionately on the shoulder. “Caro, why don’t you take a break. Go for a passeggiata.”
“I’m okay. I don’t need a break.”
Chiara studied the boy. Was the fight this morning so painful? Why didn’t he want to go? “Sure you do. What young man wants to be cooped up all day with his spinster aunt. Now go!”
“You’re not exactly a spinster.”
“Oh, two different words for the same pasta. Now vai!” Chiara spun her drying towel into a whip and snapped it at her nephew. When Edo still hesitated, Chiara lowered her voice and added, seriousness tinging the apparent lightness of her words, “I need to call your father. I’m more likely to bungle it if I have an audience.”
Edoardo chewed his lower lip. He nodded and took off his apron slowly. “Okay if I take a few euros for a gelato?”
“At the wages I pay you? I’m lucky you aren’t robbing me blind.”
“Grazie, Chiara.” Edoardo opened the register and took out a few coins. Dropping the money into his pocket, he moved to press his stubbled cheek against Chiara’s, then strode purposely toward the door. For a brief instant, he stood silhouetted against the light. Tall and lean, hands on his hips, his head turned in profile, he gazed down the street. Chiara watched her nephew stand in thought. As a baby, he had lacked the snub nose and baby roundness of her other nieces and nephews. In fact, she’d wondered if he would ever grow into his deep set eyes, long nose, and full lips. He certainly had. Backlit, his features appeared almost carved. He was a beautiful boy.
A surge in sunshine left Chiara momentarily blinded. She pressed her hands against her eyelids. When she looked up, the doorway stood empty.
She sighed and took the phone out from under the counter. Rolling her head from shoulder to shoulder, she took in a shuddering breath, and dialed. “Filippo? It’s me.”
“Chiara? What’s going on? Did something happen to Edo?”
“No, no. Edo is out for a walk.” She paused. “He told me about the fight.”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“Not much. Just that.”
“Oh.”
“And that you asked him to leave.”
Silence.
“Filippo?”
“I’m here. I don’t know what to do. I know I shouldn’t have threatened him, but his mother is beside herself, and it got out of control.”
Chiara nodded, forgetting Filippo couldn’t see her. He went on, “Besides, what business is this of yours?”
“We’re family.”
“So? That doesn’t give you the right to pry like nonna used to. That bar isn’t a license to insert your opinion.”
“I didn’t give you an opinion.”
“Oh. What do you want then?”
Chiara took a breath, her eyes flitting to the door. Ava hesitated outside, and then seemed to change her mind, probably when she realized Edo wasn’t in. Not for the first time, Chiara wished Edo would notice how sweet Ava was on him. She watched Ava
