Chapter 51
Hanna
Elina screeches to a halt, and two massive stone pots with tall oleander bushes block our path. "We can't go any farther; the rest of the way you'll have to walk," she says.
"There's a no-entry zone in front of the Palazzo," Alessia confirms, nodding vigorously.
Camilla reaches for the door handle. "What time is it?"
"You have ten minutes left," Elina replies, her blond mane swirling around. Her hand is on mine, and I look into her concerned eyes. "Are you okay?"
I'm not sure. "It feels a bit strange," I nervously reply. "But the colors are real. No bright lights, just a slight headache."
"Tinnitus? Distorted taste? Dizziness?" She squints, as if trying to better assess my condition.
I shake my head in response.
"Okay. I'll catch up once I find a parking spot." She quickly turns to Camilla and Alessia. "Take good care of her, alright?" she asks the sisters, then nods encouragingly at me. "You've got this, Hanna."
The door next to me is flung open from the outside. Alessia's curly head appears in my field of vision. "Ready?" she asks breathlessly.
"Ready," I confirm, though the excitement already gives me a queasy stomach. I leave the car and weave through the crowds of tourists in the pedestrian zone, with one of Vico's amazing sisters on each side, until we reach the vast paved square.
Alessia points toward a square building with stone facade that reminds me of a castle. "It's over there, ahead."
We head toward the entrance with the stone steps, guarded by life-sized figures. Only a few minutes later, we rush into the building. A courtyard with arched arcades and a cheerfully splashing fountain appears before us. The columns on the sides are adorned with ornaments and exude a dignified calmness despite the many tourists.
"Room 12.a, right?" Alessia hurries to the information board and frantically looks for the way. Then she waves us over. "This way."
I don't dare to ask for the time, but my intuition tells me my ten minutes are nearly up.
And that's exactly the case. When we reach the first floor, the door to room 12.a is already open. I stop as I arrive at the doorway.
Breathing heavily, I peek into the room. It only takes a split second for my excitement to turn into fear.
This is not just a simple project presentation in front of two or three officials, as I thought. No.
In this venerable room, there are more rows of spectators than I can count, and they are filled to the brim. At the front, on a small stage, tables are set up where the panel sits. Four men and five women look at me expectantly. Next to them is a podium with a laptop.
A young man with round glasses fixes his gaze on me, stands up from his chair, and buttons his jacket. "Signora Olivetta?"
My throat tightens.
"Si," Camilla suddenly appears behind me, nudging me into the room and giving me a gentle push toward the stage.
That's all it takes to make me realize: Until now, I had many helpers. But for the last stretch of the journey, I must walk alone.
Despite the unease crawling incessantly within me, I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath. Then on shaky legs, I stumble forward to the podium. Once there, I place the funding application in front of me and grip the table firmly, seeking at least a bit of support.
Showing Vico what's in my mind was one thing. Explaining to Florian that it's no longer just about pleasing him but also myself was another.
But this, this is bigger.
Much bigger.
I let my gaze sweep over the rows of spectators and then on to the panel. The lady with the short blond haircut looks kindly at me, but she impatiently taps her pen on the table at the same time. The man with bushy eyebrows beside her appears skeptical. With growing panic, I scrutinize the other jurors.
Suddenly, I feel like that time in school when I stood on stage, and the presentation of my visions turned into a disaster. I feel the shame like a heavy weight on my chest.
What if the man with glasses asks me afterward how I even came up with the idea to show up here with nothing but ridiculous utopias? Will the lady in the black-and-white-checkered suit laugh at me? In my panic, I can already see her parting her bright red lips to release her mocking laughter.
"Prego," the man with glasses signals with a hand gesture and a quick nod, urging me to start.
I swallow.
Restlessness spreads among the audience, and the murmuring reaches me even at the front.
"What's wrong with her?" someone whispers in amusement in Italian. Soft chuckles follow.
My mind goes blank all of a sudden. Even if I wanted to show the people in this room the images in my mind, I couldn't. There are none!
"Signora, begin your presentation, please," the spokesperson of the jurors repeats, tapping his watch warningly.
Shivering all over, I turn to face him. "There is no presentation," I say in a voice so soft that I can barely hear it myself.
He raises an eyebrow.
Oh God. This is going to be a complete disaster. What was I thinking, showing up here without everything prepared?
I look at the exit, where Alessia and Camilla stand with pressed lips, showing their support with crossed fingers. All their hope rests on me. It's their future I'm fighting for, Vico's happiness.
Even if I embarrass myself in front of the audience, laying out my dreams for the estate. Even if the jury deems me crazy, and Hanna Daydreamer haunts me forever.
I have to try.
For the Olivettas.
For Vico.
Because he always believed in me and never saw my dreams as futile. On the contrary, he considers them a talent I should be proud of. What do I care about the opinions of others, when thanks to him, I've learned to appreciate the value of my unique imagination?
Until now, I've clung to the podium, but now I let go and spread my arms. "There is no presentation," I say again, this time with a resolute voice.
The jury members wear shocked expressions. "But Signora, we were expecting…" The head juror begins.
I raise my hands reassuringly. "At least not the kind you might have anticipated." With a hesitant smile, I address the audience. The elegant lady with the bright red lips gives a small smirk. "Because I am convinced that nothing I could show you on a projector would be as impressive as the images in your own imagination."
I gather the courage to step out from behind the podium and face the audience. Amid the questioning and skeptical looks, I notice some curiosity and openness. I steal a glance at Vico's sisters. They nod emphatically.
"Ladies and gentlemen, dear jurors, please close your eyes with me." The queasy feeling in my stomach persists, unsure if anyone in this room would indulge my request. Nevertheless, I lower my eyelids.
Now, all I can do is listen to what unfolds around me.
Silence spreads. A chair creaks. Someone sighs.
I direct my thoughts to the estate, imagining myself there, right at the spot behind the house where I showed Vico all the colors of my dreams. Within moments, I am transported there. I inhale the scent that the warmth of the sun coaxes from the grass and feel the gentle breeze caressing my hair. All tension melts away.
"Think of the best olive oil you have ever tasted. Remember the intense aroma on your tongue and the silky sensation in your mouth," I say to my audience, guiding their thoughts along with mine.
"Picture yourself drizzling a little oil onto a plate. Do you see the golden shimmer on the surface? How would it feel to dip white bread into the oil and savor each bite?"
The thought makes my mouth water. I taste the oil on my tongue and feel a smile forming on my lips. The image in my mind widens. It's not just the olive oil; no, I also see everything around it.
"Where are you now?" I ask, taking my audience along. "Perhaps in your garden? Under a pergola or in a pavilion? Is the sun still shining, or has the twilight settled over the land?" For me, I remain unchanged, standing behind the estate. "Crickets chirp. The wind caresses your legs. You sit at a wrought-iron table with the people who mean the world to you."
Vico appears in my thoughts. Smiling, he leans over the table, reaching for my hand.
"Life is meant to be enjoyed," I whisper longingly.
Vico nods, bringing my hand to his lips, kissing each of my fingertips. I am so lost in this vision that I tune out the last remaining bits of reality around me.
"If we forget to enjoy life, we forget ourselves," my heart weighs heavily. "And so it happened to the Olivettas," I say with a choked voice. "Death took Signor Olivetta's love of his life. Four unique children lost their mother. And from this once-strong family that produced the best olive oil in the region for centuries, they became uprooted souls, desperately searching for stability."
I see them before me. Signor Olivetta and his four children. They have all forgotten how to be happy, each in their own way.
"Today, the estate has fallen into disrepair. The olive press stands idle, and the olive trees are overgrown with weeds." I clench my fists. "But it doesn't have to stay that way. We can't bring back the old times, but we can create something worthwhile from what we have. A home for a remarkable family. A tradition that must not be lost. A business whose product enriches people's lives."
My heart warms at the beautiful vision I paint.
"Life is meant to be enjoyed, just like the olive oil of the Olivetta family," I continue passionately.
By now, I've lost track of who I'm saying all this for. Of course, it's for the jury, the audience, Vico's sisters, or even his absent father. But even more so, it's for Vico, whose face is constantly before my mind's eye. In my imagination, he nods with emotion at my words.
In my thoughts, I gaze deep into his eyes.
"No matter where we are, and no matter what we do, as long as we are with those we love with all our hearts and savor the beautiful moments to the fullest, we will be happy," I say.
A sense of tranquility spreads within me. I listen inward, but no more words come to me. I stay with myself and my daydream for a few more seconds before slowly raising my eyelids.
The people in the front rows of the audience still have their eyes closed, as do the members of the jury. A gentle smile graces their faces, as warm as the colors of the setting sun. I let my gaze wander farther back, to where Alessia, Camilla, and now Elina stand.
They are completely lost in my words, still daydreaming.
No one in this room has their eyes open.
Except for me.
And Vico, who suddenly steps out from behind his sisters and looks at me with longing.