Page 26

T he next morning, Julia ate breakfast in the kitchen rather than the dining room.

She’d spent a sleepless night on Anna Mattia’s couch, and the sleep deprivation was making it hard to process what was going on.

Anna Mattia and Piero looked even more concerned about her mental state than before.

They were both silent, and Anna Mattia kept stealing glances at her while she scarfed down strapazzato , or scrambled eggs, and toasted rustic bread with sunflower seeds.

Julia read her horoscope again while she finished her meal.

You’ve heard the saying: It’s always darkest before the dawn. You’re entering the darkest. Stay strong. Surround yourself with those who support you, not those who restrict you.

Tell me about it. Julia worried that things were about to get worse, and her horoscope had a heartbreaking resonance after her fight with Courtney.

They’d never had cross words, and it felt as if a rift was forming between them, which upset Julia at soul level.

Plus she respected Courtney’s opinion; it made her doubt herself.

Suddenly her cell phone rang, and she hoped it was Courtney calling back. She checked the screen, but it was Franco. She picked up. “Yes, Franco?”

“Julia, how are you this morning?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Wonderful! I have excellent news. We got a fantastic offer on the property. Two million one hundred euro in cash .”

“Really?” Julia asked, amazed. “But how? They haven’t even seen it.”

“I told you I had excellent contacts. I sent them pictures. There is a class who will buy sight unseen.”

“Do they realize how much work it needs?”

Franco hesitated. “They want to tear it down.”

“Tear it down ?” Julia asked, aghast. She rejected the notion, but had a second thought. Her brain was so jumbled, so were her emotions. Maybe Courtney was right, and she should sell. This place had been nothing but a house of horrors, especially after last night.

Anna Mattia scowled, turning to the sink.

Franco was saying, “Julia, teardowns are an option for these buyers. This couple has a villa on Lake Como and they want to buy here. They intend to rebuild the villa, compatible with the region and zoning. The property will be beautiful again. The vineyard can come back. He’s a wine connoisseur, he wants to dabble as a vintner.

” Franco’s tone turned pleading. “This offer is excellent. Please, be reasonable.”

Julia rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t destroy a villa that meant so much to Rossi. “My answer is no, for a teardown.”

“But why? You said it was a ruin. It is .”

“I just can’t do it. No teardowns.”

Franco groaned. “Don’t you want to think about it? We have time.”

“No. Now I have to go. Thank you.”

“Certainly, thank you,” Franco said, rallying.

“Goodbye.” Julia hung up, meeting Anna Mattia’s eye. “Okay? No teardowns?”

Anna Mattia smiled slightly, which was all she had to say.

Julia pocketed her phone and finished the last of her eggs. She rose, gathering her silverware, plate, and dirty napkin. She was crossing to the sink when Anna Mattia intercepted her, taking her plate and meeting her eye.

“Signora, I go church today, I pray for you. God will ’elp you not to suffer.”

Aw. “Thank you,” Julia said, meaning it. She’d take all the help she could get.

They both turned to the unaccustomed sound of an engine in the driveway. Julia realized it was Gianluca, but seeing him was the last thing she was up for, after last night. “That’s him.”

“Okay.” Anna Mattia began rinsing the plate, and Julia went outside to find Gianluca standing with a shiny red motorcycle that read Ducati on the side.

It was large, with a short, slanted windshield and a sleekly aerodynamic design.

Its chrome exhaust pipes gleamed in the sun, and on its black leather seat rested two gray helmets.

“Didn’t we agree no motorcycles?” Julia asked, dismayed.

“We agreed no Vespas .” Gianluca grinned, walking over and greeting her European-style, with kisses on the cheeks. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” Julia hadn’t tried to look great.

It had been all she could do to get it together.

She had on a white turtleneck to hide her neck scratches, a light white cotton sweater, and jeans.

Meanwhile Gianluca looked handsome in his skinny jeans, black quilted jacket, and another cool scarf.

But they were just friends, and it was her wedding anniversary.

“A motorcycle is the best way to see Tuscany. You’re going to love it. Don’t worry.”

“I am worried.” Julia had to come clean. “Gianluca, if we were on a highway with a lot of traffic and a lot of people, I’d be nervous.”

“Got it.” Gianluca raised a hand. “Then we can avoid the highways altogether. We can drive slowly and take the back roads. Truly, it’s more scenic anyway. It will take longer, but that’s fine with me, and if you feel uncomfortable, you let me know. Okay?”

“Really?” Julia didn’t know what to do. She was too tired to fight with him and she wanted to go to Forlì.

“I promise, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Julia agreed reluctantly.

“By the way, I brought you some books about Caterina Sforza. My friend at another library had them.” Gianluca slipped off a black backpack. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Julia said, grateful. She took the heavy backpack as Anna Mattia arrived at her elbow. “Anna Mattia Vesta, this is Gianluca Moretti.”

“ Piacere , Signora Vesta.” Gianluca shook her hand, and Anna Mattia said something to him in stern Italian, which caused him to nod.

Julia watched the exchange. “Anna Mattia, what did you say?”

Anna Mattia wagged a finger. “I say, Drive good!”

Gianluca brightened. “Julia, is this the villa? It’s magnificent !” He faced the villa, beaming, and spread his arms. “It’s art, it’s beauty, it’s history, all of a piece !”

“Come on, it needs work.”

“It needs love ! Villas like this are impossible to come by!” Gianluca kept his arms open, as if to hug the villa. “You should move into this masterpiece! Who wouldn’t want this villa! You can’t buy these anymore. Please, don’t sell.”

“I might,” Julia had to admit.

“You’re killing me!” Gianluca’s hands flew to his chest. He staggered backward as if he’d been wounded, threw himself down on the driveway, and lay there as if dead.

Julia flashed horribly on Mike, stabbed to death. On this of all days. Her chest went tight.

“Julia?” Gianluca popped his head up, his grin faded. “Are you okay?” He scrambled to his feet. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Julia managed a smile. “Let’s get going.”

The red Ducati thrummed along the back roads of Chianti in the sunshine, and Julia tried not to think about Mike, the villa, or last night.

She felt jittery, but Gianluca kept his promise and drove slowly.

There were microphones in their helmets so they could talk to each other, and the traffic was light.

They passed three-wheeled farm vehicles he told her were called Aps, and a quaint mule cart that would have been at home in any era.

Gianluca pointed out the sights as they drove through vast fields of sunflowers, olive groves, and vineyards, stone farmhouses with grazing horses, flocks of sheep and goats, and cows basking in the sun. The fresh air carried the scent of fennel and lavender, like aromatherapy on wheels.

They reached a two-lane road that had more traffic, and Julia acclimated herself to the bike and was able to move with the turns.

She got used to the other traffic, even picking up snippets of conversations from open windows of the cars.

They passed one small white Fiat, and its mustachioed driver blew cigar smoke out the window.

She spotted a sign for Forlì and they entered the city. It was modern, unlike a medieval town like Croce, and modest homes and apartments with amber and melon-colored facades lined its circuitous streets. Shops of all types were everywhere, and traffic was brisk.

Julia saw signs for Caterina Sforza’s castle, Rocca di Ravaldino, and Gianluca pointed to a massive medieval fortress ahead, which looked like a smaller version of Castello Sforzesco in Milan.

It had similar brick walls, embossed arches, and round turrets, rising incongruously among the satellite dishes, as if the past were crashing the present.

They got closer, reaching wooded grounds spanning ten city blocks, occupied by Caterina Sforza’s castle.

Its red brick facade soared into the sky some ten stories, anchored by round, wide turrets with red tile roofs.

Battlements extended around a huge wall covered by overgrown ivy, greenery, and flowers.

There were several arched entrances, and each had a drawbridge over a dry moat.

There wasn’t a soul in sight, neither tourists nor residents.

Gianluca slowed down, heading for the small parking lot, which was empty.

Suddenly Julia experienced the strangest sensation.

That she was coming home.