Page 23 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)

“The Vespa. I think he needs one of us to drive it to the villa. I want to do it.”

Claire’s eyes were wide.

“I’m going to try something new.” I added my new motto, “Don’t be afraid,” knowing that I was saying it as much for Claire as for myself.

Gio unlatched the helmet clipped to the handlebars of the Vespa and handed it to me.

I boarded the sleek beauty born of Italian ingenuity and fastened the helmet under my chin. Gio gave me a quick lesson on what to do, all in Italian, and I nodded as if I understood every word, which I didn’t. I had never been on a motorcycle or scooter or anything like this before.

Following where he was pointing, I turned the key to start the engine and gave the brake lever on the left handlebar a light squeeze.

I pushed another button that Gio pointed to on the right side and balanced myself on the seat.

Releasing the bar on the left, I gave the matching lever on the right a squeeze and the scooter lurched forward.

“Grace!” Claire called out.

I quickly grasped the lever on the left side, and to my chagrin, the engine stalled. Gio trotted over, talking, waving his hands, and sounding calmer than I felt. A surge of nervousness marched toward me on familiar paths in my thoughts.

“Don’t be afraid,” I whispered, and the anxiety army sat down and took a rest back in the shadows.

I went through the steps to start up the little honey again and let her idle contentedly before we took off. The time-to-try-something-new tap dancers were on stage in my thoughts, and they began to do a jig.

Fearless and all smiles, I was already happier than I had been in the truck because I had the whole seat to myself.

There might have been enough room to slide slender Claire on the back of the seat, but I was glad my maiden voyage was solo.

Nathan would never believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe I was doing this!

And, oh, horrors! What would my mother think? I laughed aloud because I didn’t care.

Gio and Claire climbed back into the cab of the truck.

Claire turned, watching me out the back window, and waved.

As soon as Gio was about forty feet down the road, I squeezed the right handle and followed him.

Puffs of exhaust wafted into my face every now and then, which was not pleasant, but everything else about the moment was pure delight.

I hit a few bumps and had a few wobbles.

The first time I needed to turn to the right, I realized I had to keep my lower body stable and make my shoulders and head lean into the direction I wanted to go.

For the next ten minutes I couldn’t stop smiling. I pictured all the bugs of Tuscany coming for me and smashing into my teeth the way they crash into a windshield on a summer day. And yet still I couldn’t stop smiling. I loved the feel of the wind as it made the sleeves of my blouse flutter.

The farther we went down the road, the more I felt as if I had entered a movie in which rows of vineyards stretched out below great box-shaped, tawny villas with red-tile roofs.

They were everywhere. The scenery had to be a dream.

It was too pristine to be real. The midday sun seemed to fill the air with golden glitter that dissolved as soon as it touched the deep green rolling earth as far as the eye could see.

The most remarkable part of it all was the noticeable absence of paralyzing fear. I didn’t care how silly I looked in the helmet or what might happen if I stalled again or hit a rut and fell off. I felt lusciously alive.

Gio turned down a short road that led to an ornate iron gate guarding the entrance to a villa.

Long rows of trees stretched out on both sides.

The truck idled roughly, waiting for the slow and gracious motion of the heavy gate as it opened.

The movement made me think of two big arms stretching out and welcoming us home.

The silly, slightly wobbly truck puttered into the circular driveway, and the two-story villa came into full view.

I drew in a deep breath and sat on the Vespa, letting it idle for a few moments before I followed Gio.

I wanted to remember this moment, this view of the open gates, the arched entrance over the front door, and the warm yellow shade of the stone building.

A vibrant green vine grew over the entrance, and both windows on the top floor had Juliet balconies from which dainty red flowers cascaded from their planters.

Slowly, I motored inside the gates and stopped behind the truck. As I took off the helmet, Claire stepped over to me with a cute grin and her hands on her hips. “Grace.”

I was going to reply with my standard, “Claire.” But this time I said nothing. I couldn’t stop smiling.

We approached the front door and stopped under the alcove, not sure where Gio had gone and not knowing if we should wait there or go inside. A petite woman opened the front door and pushed up her round glasses. Her curly, peach-colored hair bobbed on the top of her head like a beach ball.

“Oh, hallo! You’re here!” Her accent was definitely not Italian. British, maybe. Or Scottish. “Aren’t you two the cutest Suitcase Sisters I’ve ever seen!” she said. “Come in. This way.”

“What did she call us?” Claire whispered to me.

“I think she said ‘Suitcase Sisters.’”

Claire giggled. “I love that!”

We entered a large, lovely room that had a stone fireplace, two couches, and several armchairs.

The walls were a soft sunshine yellow, and a dozen paintings were hung in a harmoniously haphazard manner.

A large window provided an inviting view to the back of the villa, where the water in the swimming pool caught the reflection of the sun and seemed to be winking at us.

I will come out there and make your acquaintance soon , I promise.

“Please. Yes. Hallo. Have a seat. Gio will take your luggage to your room. Rest a bit. I’ll bring you a little something.”

I was surprised at how fast she could speak and how heavy her English accent was.

“You aren’t Amelia, are you?” Claire asked.

“Oh! Apologies. No. Should have introduced myself. Rosie. Just in for the mad rush of the busy months ahead. I used to serve at her restaurant and told her that if the day came when she needed to bring on staff at her villa, I would drop everything and come. And here I am! So many new bookings! Very exciting, actually. And you heard, didn’t you, that our other guests who were scheduled for this same time had to cancel?

Pity for them. Brilliant for you! You have the villa to yourself for three days.

Stroke of good fortune, I’d say. Now about your refreshments.

Espresso? Wine? Or should I say vino? Everyone here calls it vino.

At least from what I’ve heard. I only arrived ten days ago.

Still catching on.” She chuckled and paused to take a breath.

“Water would be fine,” I said quickly before she could dive in again with more options.

“Right. Okay. Not to worry. Amelia will be here shortly. And if you change your mind about the espresso, I’ve nearly conquered the machine and can bring you whatever coffee you like.

Although not a cappuccino, apparently, because no self-respecting Italian would drink cappuccino after elevenses.

” Rosie did what looked like half a pirouette and trotted out.

Claire and I leaned to the left so we could watch the bouncing pouf of curls on her head as she turned the corner.

“Not what I expected,” Claire said, repressing a smile.

“She’s enthusiastic,” I added.

“Did you hear what she said about us having this whole place to ourselves?” Claire raised her eyebrows. “And more importantly, did you see the pool?”

“Yes, I did. And I made a solemn promise to visit the pool today.”

Claire sat on one of the sofas and spread her arms out. “This is amazing.”

I joined her and thought this would be a good time to give her the kudos she’d given me in Venice after we found out how great our room was. “Well done, Claire.”

“We seem to have a pattern going,” she said. “Did you notice? If the approach and arrival to our accommodations are precarious, the final destination turns out to be lovely.”

“We are two for two, aren’t we?”