Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Any chance you know the address so I can pop it into Waze?”
“No, but if you’re gonna visit her, you’re going to need someone to translate for you. She doesn’t speak any Inglese.”
I twisted my lips. “Hmm… Maybe Tomasso can come with me.”
Matteo frowned and shook his head. “Cute. I’ll take you after your scooter lesson.”
We finished eating, and I washed the dishes while Matteo dried. The sink was in front of a picture window that looked out to the yard, to my grandmother’s tree garden that was apparently more of a memorial. I lifted my chin as I passed Matteo the last plate. “I planted the oak this morning before I went to the attorney’s office.”
“How’d that go?”
“Fine. But it feels different sitting out there on that swing now that I know what all the trees represent.”
“Different bad or different good?”
“Good, I think. This morning, I felt closer to my grandmother and my mom than I have in a long time. You wouldn’t happen to know which tree she planted for my mom, would you?”
Matteo tucked the last plate into the cabinet and closed the door. “I don’t, but I can show you how to find out.”
“What do you mean? Is there a map or a key of some sort?”
He nodded toward the door. “Grab your wine. Come.”
Outside in the yard, Matteo stood next to one of the smaller cypress trees. He pointed. “Whose initials are LB?”
I pushed up to my tippy toes. Sure enough, there were two letters carved into the tree. “Oh my God. That’s probably Louis Bianchi. He was my grandfather’s brother. He died two or three years ago.”
“Well, that’s your key to which tree is for which person. Each has a carving for the person it was planted for. Sophia came out here with a knife, and she marked them up herself. Some of them are probably pretty high by now—a cypress tree grows about thirty to sixty centimeters, one to two feet, a year—so you might need a ladder to figure out some of the older ones.”
I looked up, using my hand to shield my eyes from the late-day sun. Some of the trees had to be fifty feet tall. “My mom and dad died fourteen years ago, so theirs are probably pretty high.”
Matteo lifted his chin to two tall trees standing next to each other. “Those look to be about the same height. Probably seven and a half meters or twenty-five feet, so the growth, it fits the timeline. My guess is those are probably for them.”
I stared up at the stately evergreens. “I bet you’re right.”
My heart swelled as I walked to the smaller of two lemon trees. “This is marked R.D. I’ve been wondering who got the fruit trees. But I’m not sure who that is?”
“It’s your grandmother’s second cousin. I only know because I carried the seedling out of da car a few years back, and when I asked her why a lemon tree, she say Rosa was a sourpuss.”
I laughed. “That’s so my grandmother.”
I spent a few minutes looking around at the markings on the smaller trees. When I looked over at Matteo, he was leaning against my grandfather’s oak, watching me.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just look relaxed right now. You don’t have the little lines between your brows that you did when you got here.”
“You know, you’re not supposed to point out imperfections on a woman.”
He smiled. “A few small lines aren’t imperfections. They’re your story.”
“I guess I am more relaxed than I’ve been in a while. At least I think I am. The feeling is so foreign that I can’t be sure.”
His gaze flickered down to my lips and back to meet my eyes. “It looks good on you.”
Something in my belly stirred. “Thank you again for today.”
He nodded once and looked at me like he was going to say something before changing his mind. “I should get going.”
“I think I’m going to stay out here and swing for a bit while I finish my wine. I’ll see you tomorrow for my Vespa lesson? Would around nine work?”
He shook his head, but a smile threatened at his lips. “I’ll be here.”
Chapter 10
Matteo
A DRESS. TO ride a Vespa.
Allegra looked sexy as shit this morning, but the getup wasn’t exactly practical. Though, rather than mentioning that fact and winding up in an argument first thing, I instead slipped my sunglasses down my nose and took my time appreciating what I had no business appreciating. I couldn’t help myself, the pink and white material clung to all the right places.
“Why don’t you bring that letter Sophia wrote to your great-aunt, and we’ll head that way while I give you a lesson?” I suggested.
“Oh, perfect. Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
I also failed at being a gentleman while watching her walk to the house. A minute later, she came out holding an envelope marked Anna, and I tucked it into the compartment under the Vespa seat for safekeeping.