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)
“I’m happy to.” He caught my eyes. “How are you holding up?”
“Well, I changed into this sweater so she wouldn’t see the rash on my chest.” I smiled. “And the good news is the house is sparkling. But if she doesn’t come soon, I might have to start polishing the cans in the cabinets.”
“You’re going to be okay.” He smiled. “Do you still want me to come by?”
“If you don’t mind. Maybe about seven? That’ll give me an hour alone, and I’m not sure I can handle too much more than that.”
“She’s Italiano,” he said. “It will give you forty minutes with her, maybe. No one shows up for dinner on time.”
I laughed. “Okay. Just come whenever you feel like it.”
Matteo cupped my cheeks and tilted my head up for a kiss. Planting a soft one on my lips, he stroked his thumbs along my skin. “It takes a lot of courage to open a door you didn’t ask to knock on. You are brave even when you don’t feel it. She’s lucky to have you for a sister.”
I tasted salt in my throat and laughed, wiping my eyes. “God, don’t make me cry before she even gets here.”
“Call me if you want me earlier, yes?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
The twenty-five minutes after he left were excruciating. Matteo had been right that my sister wouldn’t show up on time. Camilla pulled into the driveway at twenty minutes after six, driving a small red convertible that was adorable.
I went to the door, and she got out and lifted a bottle of wine.
“Scusa. Sorry I am late,” she said. “I have no excuse other than I am never on time.”
I smiled. “I love your car.”
“I like my cars like my men, old but with low mileage.”
She put me at ease almost instantly. “What kind of a car is it?”
“An Alfa Romeo Spider. It will have a big birthday next year, turning fifty. Same as Vittorio, the man I am dating.”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “You weren’t kidding. You do like older men.”
She kissed both my cheeks. “You Americans, what is it you like to say? I have daddy issues.”
I probably shouldn’t have laughed, considering the subject matter, but her honesty was refreshing. “Thank you for coming.”
She looked over at the front gardens. “Bellissima.”
“My grandmother—” I caught myself and shook my head. “Our grandmother loved a wild garden. It matched her personality.”
“And you? Does it match yours, too?”
“Umm… No, definitely not. I’m more of a rose bush, trimmed neatly with a bunch of thorns.” I nodded toward the house. “Come in. The apartment is upstairs, but I thought maybe we could sit out back under the loggia down here. I need to open wine and grab the food I put together first.”
She eyed the antique store. “I heard about the shop when I was little. When I got older, I thought about coming and pretending to be a shopper. Just so I could meet my—” She caught herself, the same way I had. “Our father’s mother. He spoke about her a lot.”
Upstairs, Camilla continued to take everything in. She set the wine she’d brought on the table and picked up one of the bottles Matteo had given me. “Ooh… this is one of my favorites. It’s made here in Montepulciano, yes?”
“Right next door. I’m actually…” I hesitated, still getting used to things. “I’m dating the owner.”
Her mouth curved to a grin. “Smart girl. Free wine.”
I chuckled, pulling the corkscrew from the drawer and twisting it into the cork. It was startling how quickly she felt like someone I could’ve been friends with under different circumstances. “I dug out some photo albums. They’re already outside.”
Before we headed down, Camilla glanced at the refrigerator, her eyes catching on some photos I’d found over the past few weeks and hung there. One, in particular, seemed to snag her attention.
“That’s her. The one and only Sophia Bianchi,” I said. “I found that picture in a box. It really captures the spirit of who she was.” The photo was Nonna riding her purple Vespa, a silk scarf tied around her head, oversized Gucci sunglasses covering her eyes, and bright red lipstick that hadn’t faded a bit in the lifetime I’d known her. Sitting sidesaddle on the back was her best friend and partner in crime, Francesca, both of them grinning like they owned the world.
Camilla shook her head. “I should’ve come to see her when I was a teenager and curious. I can tell by this photo that I missed out.”
I didn’t want to rub it in that she had, so I grabbed two glasses and the wine and asked her to carry the platter downstairs for me. “Come on. There are a ton more photos downstairs.”
We spent nearly half an hour looking through two old black-and-white albums. When Camilla saw baby pictures of Nonna, she took out her phone and scrolled to find one of hers that her mom had posted on her twenty-fifth birthday. I would’ve thought the photos were of the same baby, except one was in black and white and the other color. It was the first of many similarities we noticed.