Chapter 8
RESEARCH NOTES
Maslow believed that one’s intrinsic needs form the base of the pyramid.
While it is clear that satisfying basic needs such as food and nourishment is essential, some of the other intrinsic needs may be debated.
For example, shelter remains an intrinsic need; however, the concept of “shelter” becomes a discussion of what constitutes a “home,” an imprecise word that conflates physiological with emotional need.
When Andrea First Moved Back from New York, it Felt like listening to an audiobook at half speed.
In New York, he had to plan fast and execute faster.
His brain had been tuned to living life in hyperdrive for over ten years.
Oddly enough, the tendency to push the pace for everything was one of the first things to go once he settled back into life on the Italian Riviera.
Here, things were going to take the amount of time they were going to take, and if he tried to fight this, he’d end up frustrated and miserable.
However, he had been a little lax about getting the town house finished.
He’d bought a few properties when he moved back, hoping to inject a bit of movement into the economy by turning them into homes or storefronts.
Most had been renovated and rented or sold—all but the pale yellow town house with the terrace in the back that looked out over the sea.
It was bigger than the rest, with a double-height ground floor where he’d envisioned a big modern kitchen.
There were three bedrooms and even two spaces that would convert easily into bathrooms, which was rare for this kind of building.
On the top floor, there was an attic space large enough for an office, family room, gym, or whatever someone could dream up.
The problem was that it was too big for a single person.
There were too many stairs to climb for an older person.
And after a complete renovation, he’d have to charge a rent that would be too high for the average local resident for it to make any sense.
The perfect tenants would be a young family with some means and a few kids to run up and down the stairs like they were nothing.
Maybe they’d have a small dog that liked to sit in the sunshine on the warm stones of the terrace.
Right now, he didn’t know anyone like that.
So, the house became a hobby and sat empty.
“Dove vuoi che lo metta?” Vittorio asked, pushing an entire wheelbarrow loaded up with a brand-new toilet into Andrea’s office before even saying hello.
Andrea jumped, slightly startled out of his focused to-do list writing.
Just as he was about to answer the question, Lora appeared in the doorway behind Vittorio.
“Hi,” she said, her eyes darting to the white porcelain commode that looked like a queen on a palanquin. Vittorio nodded and smiled, flicking his eyes to Andrea when he saw her.
“Hi. Give me one second,” he said, turning to Vittorio to tell him where to bring the toilet.
“Ciao, Vittorio. Bellissimo. Portiamolo direttamente alla casa.” Vittorio was a good guy, the best plumber in town until his arthritis got the best of him.
As he rolled out of the office, Andrea turned back to Lora. “Sorry about that. Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She smiled, stepping toward his desk. “What was that?”
“Portable toilet?”
“Do you wheel refrigerators around and call it a lunch box?”
“No, but now you’ve got me thinking about what I can do with a rolling dehumidifier,” he said. “Sorry, I don’t want to distract you from work. Is Vilmari coming, or is she playing tennis this morning?”
“Vilmari is on her way back to New York. She had a business emergency—a good one, actually. She’s about to get the interview of a lifetime and she couldn’t pass it up. But I am not here to work today. In fact, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I found the birth certificate.”
“You did! That’s fantastic!” he said. He instinctively opened his arms as though he’d be hugging her in celebration but caught himself and ended up oddly folding them against his chest instead.
“Yes. I was just with Franca, and we officially filed the request for citizenship. I was even able to communicate with her—nome, data di nascita, paese. See?” she said, pointing at her mouth. He couldn’t help but watch her slightly glossy lips as she smiled at her own good news.
“That’s really great,” he said, starting to feel warm in the room.
He wanted to open the window by his desk, but then Lorenzo leaned into the doorway with a copy of the building plans in his hand, asking if Andrea had a minute.
“Excuse me, just one second more.” Lora nodded and sat in one of the chairs.
Lorenzo wanted to know where he should drop the secondhand cooktop he had sold to Andrea and what wall would house the new fuse box.
Andrea quickly explained and told him that the house was open and he would likely find Vittorio there if he had other questions.
Lorenzo nodded at Lora and smiled before making his way out.
Andrea turned back to her. “OK, sorry. Yes, that’s very good. They will email back when they officially receive it, no doubt.”
“Good to know,” she said. She reached up and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to apologize actually. I’ve been wanting to for a while now. I acted like a real brat the day we met with Maria, and I am frankly appalled at my behavior.”
“Well, thank you, but that’s unnecessary.”
“No. It’s not. I think I’ve been frustrated because I started to feel like I don’t have any options—not that it’s an excuse,” she said, lightly touching his forearm. “I don’t want to feel like that. So, I read a little online and I may have a solution.”
“Buondì!” Carola sang out into the office, carrying a large reusable shopping bag.
Reaching in, she pulled out two matching sconces.
“Ti va?” she asked. His eyes flicked to Lora’s again, silently asking for her patience.
He liked the sconces. They’d be perfect on the wall in the entryway.
Carola agreed and turned her attention to Lora.
“Tu sei la Loretta,” she said. He expected Lora’s face to go stormy.
“I’m Loretta. Sì,” she said, no clouds in sight. “Well, I’m Lora.”
“Ah! Lora, OK.” Carola nodded. She stepped forward, squinting as she looked at Lora’s face. “Hai gli stessi occhi di Ivo.”
Lora cocked her head in confusion and turned to Andrea.
“She says you have Ivo’s eyes.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking at Carola. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know that he—I mean, I didn’t know that we…” She trailed off.
Carola nodded, smiled. She turned to Andrea and told him that she used to work at Ivo’s farm a few days per week, more in the tourist season. He’d had no idea, of course. He’d hardly thought about the man who’d owned that property once upon a time until his daughter walked into his life.
“I cook,” Carola said to Lora in English before switching to explain something in Italian.
“She cooked for the staff at the farm and made the lunches for the trail rides in the summer,” Andrea filled in. “I bet she has tons of stories.”
“I’m sure,” Lora said, shifting her weight to lean against a chair.
Carola turned to Andrea. “Ci vediamo lì?”
“Sì, sì. La sto portando lì adesso.”
“Bene. Si vede che ci tiene a lei.” She winked at him and walked out the door. And now he was going to have to find a way to translate the fact that Carola had read his thoughts about Lora like she was reading the newspaper and had just called him out on them.
Lora raised her eyebrows in a question.
“She said that she can tell I think you’re special.”
“And how can she tell that?” she asked, her cheeks turning pink.
“Maybe it’s better if I show you. Are you busy now?” He gestured toward the door.
“Actually, I wanted to tell you about what I read online.”
“Perfect. Let’s walk while you tell me.”
“Well, I thought that I have to declare residency in the same town as the member of my family through whom I am seeking citizenship, but that’s not the case at all,” she said as they walked past Franca and out the main door.
“I can actually live anywhere in Italy. So, I found this real estate website where there were a ton of rental properties. I guess there is a little town not too far from here called Riva Trigoso. Do you know it?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, waving a greeting to Chiara and Clara Tramonti out fussing with plants on their stoop—the twin sisters had lived together for their entire lives and grew the best roses in the whole town. “It’s kind of industrial. Not very charming, but in a good location.”
“There’s an apartment there, and it’s a long-term rental. Prima casa, right? The agent even speaks English and said she’d be willing to show it to me. I think this could be a good option.”
As they approached the house, he could see that the door was open and Vittorio was carrying some things in from his wheelbarrow. “If you wait another few minutes—” he began.
“But she said she could see me today, so I checked and there’s a train in about fifteen minutes, so maybe—”
“Lora,” he interrupted her. He turned toward her on the street and held out his hand.
She stared at it. “Come with me.” He opened his palm wider.
Looking confused, she finally placed her hand in his.
He walked her up to the house, in the front door, and into the middle of the room.
Lorenzo, his work boots covered in a thick layer of white dust, had most of one wall open to the studs and was screwing something into the fuse box.
He could hear Vittorio scuffling around upstairs.
She looked around the empty room with a table in the middle of it, a pile of construction supplies in one corner, and a stack of new windows lying against each other in another and then turned back to him.
“This is your house,” she said, her eyes darting around the room as she dropped her hand from his.