Chapter 47
Hanna
Elina's cheeks are burning red. Focused, she navigates Noah's car onto the highway, heading south. "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm doing this."
Gratefully, I smile at her. "You're the best, you know that?"
She accelerates to merge into the heavy traffic. "And you're not the first to tell me that on a fiery road trip to Italy."
"How do you mean?" I lean forward in the passenger seat, curious.
"Love trips to Bella Italia are my specialty," she replies, flipping down the sun visor. "My friend Maya once had an urgent need to go to Rome because of love. She didn't have a broken arm, but she had no driver's license. So I stepped in." She grins mischievously.
"I hope it had a happy ending?" I inwardly pray that it was the case. It would be a good sign, and I desperately need that. Because apart from the printed application, which Vico's father still needs to sign before we continue to Florence, I have nothing else.
No project plan, no cost estimate, no drawings.
In such a short time and with this cursed cast, it was impossible to put something together. All I have is the vision in my mind, which I've been refining all night.
"No. It wasn't a happy ending," I hear Elina say. "It was even a spectacular ending! With fireworks, sparklers, and thunderous applause." Her dreamy expression says it all. "Every time someone finds the love of their life, I could cry with joy. And that's how it was with Maya and her Josh. Absolutely magical."
Her romantic mood takes hold of me. "And it was the same with you and Noah," I say, hopeful that Vico and I will have such an ending too. If it's true love, it just has to be, right?
She nods dreamily. Then she reaches out her hand to me. "Today, you'll get your happy ending. I can feel it."
I wish I were as certain as she is. But the closer we get to Tuscany, the more nervous I become. Without even speaking to the Olivettas, I've submitted the funding application.
What if Vico's father doesn't sign it?
And how will Vico react? Especially when he finds out I'm doing this so he can pursue his dream of cliff diving. And that even with me, if he wants.
These and many more questions haunt me throughout the entire journey. They make me grow quieter with every passing minute as the lush green landscape flashes by. Elina notices too. She keeps smiling over at me and playing cheerful music to lift my spirits.
By the time we arrive, I'm sweating profusely. As we pass through the entrance to the estate, my head starts pounding.
No, not now. This is the most inconvenient moment for a seizure. Thankfully, a doctor is sitting next to me. She knows about my condition, and if it were to happen, no one could help me better than her.
"This is absolutely beautiful!" Elina exclaims with excitement. "Do we need to go to the main house or there in front?" She points at the single-story, red-brick building.
Lost in thought, I nod, looking at the stately estate. Someone has trimmed the wild vines, and the rickety chairs have disappeared. "To the bungalow, please. Camilla probably knows where her father is," I mutter, noticing a white plastic tarp fluttering over the half-ruined wall.
What's going on here? Are they renovating? No, that can't be, as I don't see any workers around.
As soon as Elina stops the car, I leap out and hurry to the door. Only in passing do I notice how empty everything looks. The house seems almost abandoned. The doormat with its dark ornaments is missing, and the plant pots are gone.
Anxiously, I look at the doorbell.
The name is gone.
My God, has Camilla already moved out? And this even though the estate hasn't been sold yet?
Under the doorbell, I spot a sticky note.
We have moved , it says in Italian, followed by an address. I tear off the note, dash back to the car, and enter Camilla's new address into the navigation system.
It spits out a route with a fifteen-minute drive time.
That's good. We can't afford any more delays, as ninety miles still exists between us and our final destination in Florence. It's eleven o'clock, and I have to be at Palazzo Vecchio in three hours.
On the way to Camilla's place, we hardly talk. My excitement has a firm grip on me. I try to breathe evenly, hoping to prevent any potential epileptic episode. But when Elina stops the car in front of a Tuscan house with a flat roof and stone facade, I can barely contain my inner turmoil.
"Wait here, I'll be right back," I say breathlessly, grabbing the funding application and rushing to the front door.
Luckily, Camilla opens the door immediately. Her surprise is evident. "Ciao, Hanna."
"Is your father here?" I plead, feeling my hand damp with sweat holding the paper.
She nods, but her expression remains skeptical. "But he's not in a state to receive visitors. What do you want to discuss with him?"
With lips pressed together, I step closer. "I need to see him. It can't wait," I say urgently. "Please."
Still wary, she backs away, then turns and signals me to follow her. "We need to be quiet. The little ones are sleeping," she whispers as she leads me down a hallway filled with half-packed moving boxes. She stops in front of a white-painted door, raising a warning finger. "You have three minutes, no more."
That'll have to do. Hopefully. Despite my excitement, I gently knock on the door. There's no response from inside, so I open it. "Signor Olivetta?"
As soon as I enter the room, I see Vico's father sitting on a worn leather chair. He looks pale, his hands tremble, and he appears even thinner than at his birthday party. With lifeless eyes, he gazes into nothingness.
Swallowing hard, I step closer to him and crouch down. "It's me, Hanna."
He doesn't react.
"I'm here to help," I say, hoping to shake him out of his lethargy. "We have a chance to save the estate before it's sold." Instinctively, I reach for his hand. It's ice cold. "Signor Olivetta, can you hear me? You don't have to sell. There's another way." Quickly, I show him the application form. "I have a funding application here. You just need to sign it, and I'll take care of the rest. But it has to be done right away."
In the corner of my eye, I see Camilla turning away and disappearing down the hallway. My focus returns to Vico's father. I keep pressing his hand, hoping for any response.
A feeble whimper escapes his mouth. It's the first sign he gives me, telling me that his heart still clings to the traditional family estate.
With an encouraging nod, I show him the application. "It's not too late, but we need to act quickly."
His head moves jerkily from side to side. "The estate has already been sold," he murmurs so softly that I can barely hear it.
"You're mistaken," I reply with conviction. Florian made it clear on the drive back almost two weeks ago that there were still open points to be discussed before finalizing the deal. And since he hasn't left Semmtal since then, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to sign the contract.
No, Signor Olivetta is too confused to grasp reality.
However, he shakes his head again. This time, more forcefully. "It's over. See for yourself." With a barely noticeable gesture, he points at the half-height cabinet next to his chair.
A wave of unease washes over me. Full of concern, I rise from my crouched position and open the top drawer.
There lies a contract.
I take it and hastily flip through the pages until I reach the last one.
It's signed.
Both by Florian and Signor Olivetta.
No, this can't be true.
The pounding in my temples intensifies, and the room around me suddenly feels distorted.
I sink to my knees, feeling drained of energy, as I slowly begin to grasp the significance of the document in my hands.