TEN
I sat at my desk, the afternoon light filtered through the tall windows. The city hummed with its usual energy outside, but my focus was on the Alessandro’s familiar voice on the other end of the line. Like most Italians, he spoke with such passion about everything.
“Charlie, you have to meet her. Gia is incredible—truly one of a kind,”
he said, his enthusiasm shining through.
Alessandro described the Vigna di Mare (Vineyard by the Sea) with delicate details, the endless rows of sun-drenched grapevines, the picturesque family house that was used to host guests and held events and how the family was so much fun.
He continued on about the wafting scent of ripe fruit and the soft hum of bees. Vigna di Mare sounded timeless, rooted in tradition and untouched by the chaos of the world beyond—magical.
“The vineyard has been in their family for generations,”
Alessandro continued. “Their great-grandparents started it right after the war. Just a few acres then, but they built it up year by year, vine by vine. Now, it’s one of the best in the region.”
“And the wine? Are you an investor?” I teased.
Alessandro laughed. “Only in spirit. Gia’s a perfectionist. She oversees every step of the process, from crushing grapes to bottling. Her brother handles the business and sales aspect—securing deals and growing the business.
They’re a team—it’s really four siblings taking over for their parents, but the two youngest are still figuring out their way in life. They are still young. ”
The respect in his voice was unmistakable. I heard the layers in his voice—how working the land required care, patience, and understanding, year after year.
“Where’s the vineyard?”
I asked, wondering if I could somehow fit a tour into my trip.
“The vineyard is in Campania, but the family resides near Praiano. Their mother is always cooking, feeding everyone. If you ever meet her, you’ll never be hungry.”
A smile spread across my face, picturing a bustling kitchen filled with the warmth of fresh pasta and simmering sauce. “It all sounds wonderful.”
“It is,”
he admitted. “But to them, it’s everything. Every bottle, every grape—it’s their family legacy.”
“Alright, Alessandro,”
I said, “You sold me. I’d love to meet her.”
“Trust me, Gia’s passion is something you’ll connect with. I think you’ll be friends.”
“If she’s as wonderful as you say, this might be exactly what I need.”
Alessandro chuckled. “You won’t be disappointed. I’ll send you her contact info—she’s available to meet you in Paris this week. Reach out.”
“Perfect,”
I replied, jotting down the details he provides. “Can’t wait.”
“Tell your mom I said hello, va bene?”
“I will,”
I said, smiling as we hang up. My mom and him talked regularly, but he acted like I don’t know—interesting. I have known him my entire life. My mother grew up friends with him. Their families spent summers vacationing together. I love Mom’s stories of those summers spent on Italian beaches, running wild with her friends.
Lost in thought, a knock at my door pulled me back to reality. It’s Claire.
“Charlie, do you have a minute? I might need some help with an issue,”
she said stepping in my so-called office.
“Of course, what’s up?”
I asked, setting my notes on the vineyard aside.
Claire sat across from me. “Our biggest client is expanding into China. They want to host a massive launch event—something unique to stand out in a saturated market.”
I leaned forward, intrigued. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is they’ve given us less than a month. They want it timed with a major trade show in Beijing and insist on exclusivity. No leaks, no buzz, until the last minute.”
I rubbed my temples, absorbing the weight of the challenge. “That’s a tight timeline, but doable. What’s your gut feeling?”
Claire hesitated, then says, “I think we can pull it off, but it’s going to be all hands on deck. We need to work with local vendors, secure a venue, and craft an experience that stands out—all in secret.”
My mind raced with ideas, “Alright. Let’s break it down. This isn’t just about a show—it’s about creating something unforgettable.”
Claire smiled, visibly relieved. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve started some brainstorming, but I wanted to get your take.”
I stood and walked to the whiteboard, marker in hand. “Let’s start with the basics. What’s the message? What story are they telling?”
As she outlined the client’s goal, I began sketching out a rough plan. The more we talked, the more the ideas flowed. This was what I lived for—taking on the impossible and transforming it into something extraordinary.
An hour later, with a solid plan in place, I saw confidence return to Claire’s eyes.
“This is going to be incredible,”
she said, standing up. “Thanks, Charlie. You always know how to turn things around.”
I laughed. “You had all the ideas already, I just organized them. It’s all about perspective. Challenges become opportunities when you know the end goal and work it backwards. It’s like a puzzle for my brain.”
As Claire left, I sat back feeling satisfied. I decided to take Alessandro’s suggestion and call Gia to schedule a meeting. Dinner and drinks with a possible new friend, plus a business opportunity sounded like the best way to spend an afternoon in Paris.
When it was time to go back to the hotel and finish packing for my trip, I went through my list one last time to confirm I had everything. Laptop—check. Chargers—check. Adaptors—check. Meetings were set. I was anxious and excited at the same time.
As I walked back to the hotel, my mind drifted to the blind date Lena set me up on last week—the awkward, forced conversations that left me questioning if dating was even worth the effort. I’ve poured so much of myself into Elysian Experiences that there seemed to be little left for anything else. Why doesn’t a relationship excite me the way my work does? Is it because I’ve convinced myself I don’t need anyone? Or I just haven’t met the right person? How about a just right-now person?
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. No use dwelling on what I can’t control. I had a business to run, and that’s where my focus should be. I wanted to focus on it. But the questions lingered, gnawed at the edges of my mind. I knew I couldn’t ignore them forever.
I made it back to my hotel. I kicked off my heels, feeling the plush carpet under my feet. Headed straight to the bar and I poured myself a glass of wine—a vintage I stocked for myself—and disappeared into the armchair by the window. The city’s hum made decent background noise, but I played soft LoFi music on my phone. I pulled out a few art books from a gallery visit earlier in the week. This was my escape. Instead of zoning out with a movie or scrolling endlessly, I lost myself in these kinds of things, art books. The colors, textures, the stories behind each piece—they sparked ideas for me. This hotel room almost like a home. What did that say about me? Weird that a few months here felt more like a home than two years with a boyfriend. My phone vibrated with a text.
Amelia: Are you ready for your trip? All packed?
Me: Almost. It’s hard to pack for an entire month!
Amelia: Is there room for me?
Me: Next time-promise!
Me: Are you working tonight?
Amelia: Just finished. I’m ready to sleep for 12 hours. I’m exhausted.
Me: Was it crazy today?
Amelia: Fun gamethings I pulled out of human bodies but I won’t say from where: a D battery, a toothbrush . What’s wrong with everyone?
Me: WTF?
Amelia: This is my life!
Amelia: Be jealous…
Me: HARD PASS!!
Amelia: Text when you get to Paris.
Me: Okay
Amelia: Love you!
Me: Love you more.
After I soaked up enough inspiration, I headed up to the rooftop lounge.
There’s something about being high above the city, with the night air on my skin, that clears my head. I brought my journal to jot down any notes or ideas.
Sometimes, I chatted with the bartender or another guest, finding bits of their lives to keep for myself. It filled my creative bucket. This was how I recharge.
It’s not about relaxing; it’s about how I fed my own creativity to keep me sharp for whatever comes next. It’s different, but it worked for me. And right now, that’s all that mattered.