Chapter Forty-Seven
As they approached the final island, Alicia’s voice once again filled the air with fascinating tales and history.
“Isola dei Pescatori, or Fishermen’s Island, is the only one of the Borromean Islands that is permanently inhabited,” Alicia explained. “This island has a charming, rustic appeal, with narrow winding streets and quaint houses that reflect the simple yet rich life of the local fishermen. Unlike the grandeur of Isola Bella and Isola Madre, this island offers a more intimate glimpse into the traditional lifestyle of the region.”
As they docked, the group was greeted by the sight of colorful houses lining the shore, their facades painted in warm hues of yellow, orange, and red. The buildings, with their balconies adorned with flower pots and laundry hanging out to dry, exuded a homely charm. The air was filled with the salty scent of the lake and the delicious aroma of freshly cooked fish from the local trattorias .
“This reminds me of Burano,” Sophie whispered. “I wonder if all Italian wives struggled with lost husbands.”
“It seems the fisherman’s wife did, at least,” Fernando said with a chuckle.
“It’s a good thing you don’t fish, then. I prefer a less ostentatious exterior home color,” Sophie admitted playfully as they strolled. Their arms tucked securely behind each other’s backs, Sophie nestled comfortably into Fernando’s side.
“That, my love, is something you will never have to worry about. I am a one-woman man,” Fernando promised, kissing her lightly on the head.
Walking through the narrow streets, the group felt the laid-back atmosphere of the island. Fishermen mended their nets, children played along the waterfront, and locals greeted each other with friendly waves. “This island has retained its traditional character despite the influx of tourists,” Alicia noted. “The community here is close-knit, and the way of life has changed little over the centuries.”
They visited the small church of San Vittore, a modest yet beautiful structure that dated back to the 11th century. Inside, they admired the simple, elegant design and the peaceful atmosphere. “This church is dedicated to St. Victor,” Alicia informed them. “It’s a place of worship and a community hub for the island’s residents.”
As they continued their tour, they came across several artisan shops selling locally made goods, including intricate lacework, hand-painted ceramics, and, of course, fresh fish. The group took the opportunity to buy a few souvenirs, appreciating the craftsmanship and authenticity of the items.
“The lace you see here is a tradition that dates back centuries,” Alicia explained as they browsed the shops. “Much like on Burano, the women of Isola dei Pescatori have passed down the art of lace-making through generations. Each piece is unique and tells a story.”
The group then stopped at a charming lakeside café for a light lunch. They enjoyed a meal of freshly caught fish, accompanied by locally grown vegetables and a glass of crisp white wine from the region. The taste was fresh and exquisite, reflecting the island’s rich culinary heritage. “The fish here is caught daily and prepared using traditional recipes,” Alicia said. “It’s a true taste of Isola dei Pescatori.”
With their appetites satisfied, the group boarded the boat once more, their hearts full from the authentic and intimate experience on Fishermen’s Island. Their next destination was Mount Mottarone.
As the cable car ascended, they were treated to breathtaking views of the lake and the surrounding mountains. At the summit, the panoramic views were nothing short of spectacular, offering a stunning vista of the Alps and the seven lakes that dotted the landscape. The crisp mountain air was invigorating, and the group took a moment to soak in the natural beauty.
Alicia pointed out the various landmarks as they gazed over the horizon. “Standing at an elevation of about 1,491 meters or 4,892 feet, Mount Mottarone provides an unobstructed view of the surrounding region. On a clear day, you can see the Ligurian Apennines to the south and the Monte Rosa massif to the west. It’s truly one of the best vantage points in northern Italy,” she explained.
The group wandered around the summit, taking pictures and enjoying the scenery. The vast expanse of nature, with its rolling hills and pristine lakes, was a sight to behold.
Arriving back at their hotel, Alicia guided them through the Grand Hotel des Iles Borromées, pointing out notable features. “This hotel opened its doors in 1863 and has hosted many illustrious guests, including royalty, writers, and celebrities. Ernest Hemingway was a frequent visitor, and he even mentioned this hotel in his novel ‘A Farewell to Arms.’ The blend of luxury and history here is truly unique.”
They walked through the elegant hallways, passing by rooms that were each uniquely decorated, blending classic styles with modern comforts. The view from the windows showcased the breathtaking scenery of the lake and the Borromean Islands, providing a picturesque backdrop that added to the hotel’s allure.
As the tour drew to a close, the group exchanged goodbyes, promising to stay in touch. Alicia gathered everyone for a final farewell. “It’s been a pleasure guiding you through this beautiful country. I hope you’ve made memories that will last a lifetime. Safe travels to everyone, and I hope our paths cross again.”
Fernando picked up on Sophie’s exhaustion and suggested they take a quiet night in their rooms with a dinner of room service and meet for breakfast in the morning. Grateful for his understanding, Sophie kissed him good night and headed for a nice long soak in her tub, looking forward to some quiet time to relax after so many days on the go. She also needed to make a very private phone call.
Sophie started the bath water and tossed in a scoop of luxurious rose bath salts before perching on the edge of the bed and dialing the number on her cell phone. It rang twice before connecting.
“Sophie. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I thought this would go to voice mail. Yes, everything is fine.”
“Some people never get sent to voice mail unless it is completely unavoidable. You are one of them. What’s up?”
“Um, I was wondering, Enrique, if you had ever used your skills and access to information to search for Fernando’s mom? We were talking recently, and he is open to the idea of finding her and putting that part of his childhood to rest. I can hire PIs to do it, but I thought I would start with his brothers in the intelligence industry first.” Sophie squirmed a little. She wasn’t sure why this conversation was so hard for her.
“Intelligence industry, huh? It sounds like someone has been a little loose-lipped. We’ll talk about that later. In answer to your question, yes and no. I did a preliminary search when we were younger and was just getting my fingertips wet with information gathering. I came up empty. I have given it some thought over the years and have an avenue that may work. Are you sure he wants this door opened? He has been pretty adamant about not meeting her for most of his life.”
“Yes. Let’s just say that things have changed. It turned out that fear of flying wasn’t his biggest fear, and perhaps his abandonment issues are the thing that is holding him back the most.”
“It’s about time! We all knew that. I’m glad this BBC challenge was the kick in the pants he needed. I will get on this. It will take a few months. Keep it quiet for now. I don’t want to get his hopes up. If I find anything out, you and I will have a talk and see what steps we take moving forward. Finding her might be the easiest part of this whole scenario.”
“Thank you, Enrique. I appreciate your help with this. Is all well on your end?”
“Me? Yeah. Things are good. Talk soon, Sophie.”
“Talk soon.”
The call disconnected, and Sophie took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what she had expected or why she was nervous. She was comfortable with all of Fernando’s brothers, well, except Julio, whom she had never met. Enrique had been in and out of the office over the years, working on information systems. Maybe it was just the fact that this was a delicate situation, and she had just asked Fernando’s brother to dig into his past, a past that held untold secrets that might do more harm than good.
Sophie rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension and climbed into the slipper tub for a nice long soak.
When she climbed out of the tub, skin waterlogged and wrinkled, she wrapped up in a plush white robe and made her way into the bedroom to dress but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Room service,” a young man called out.
Surprised, she opened the door and informed him, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong room. I haven’t ordered anything.”
“The gentleman across the hall ordered it for you. Said if it doesn’t satisfy you to order something else. May I arrange the table for you?”
Sophie was touched by the gesture and stepped back to allow the young man to push the cart inside. “Oh, um. No, thank you. This is fine. I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash for a tip. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
Exiting the room, the man replied, “Not a problem. The gentleman took care of everything. Have a good night.”
As the door softly closed behind him, Sophie inspected the contents of the small brass cart, which was covered with plates of food, a single red rose, and a note.
When I called down to order dinner, they informed me you hadn’t ordered yet. I figured you forgot before you took your bath. I had something prepared, so you wouldn’t have to wait another hour for food. If this doesn’t suit your cravings, feel free to order something else.
Sweet dreams, my love.
F K
She was happy. She had no idea how things would play out over the next few months, but her love for Fernando was finally out in the open, and he was reciprocating it. The future was looking bright.