Chapter 7 #2
“Ah,” I said. “So that’s da reason you are here.”
“It’s the reason I came, yes. But I’m not sure it’s the reason I’m supposed to be here anymore, if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“I spent every summer in Tuscany growing up. My parents would come to visit for a few weeks, and when it was time to go, I’d ask if I could stay.
By the time I was a teenager, I was coming as soon as I got out of school and staying for the entire summer, flying by myself.
” She shook her head. “New York is just so different. Time rushes by, and it’s hard to find your place there.
Here the days felt endless, and it was easy to fit in, even though I was an outsider.
My grandmother always made sure to have an old bike ready for me when I arrived.
She traded them up for bigger sizes over the years, and I’d ride the gravel roads lined with cypress trees into the village for gelato and spend entire afternoons lying in the grass with a book before helping my grandmother cook dinner.
The locals knew me by name back then, and I felt like I belonged.
” She sighed. “Now I feel like more of an intruder.”
“That will change. It takes time to settle in.”
“I suppose.”
She seemed lost in thought for a while after that, but eventually Allegra shifted in her seat to face me. “So what’s your story? Is this your first vineyard?”
I shook my head. “My family has been in the wine-making business for three generations. I worked in my parents’ vineyard growing up, and then again after I finished at university.
But it’s the first of my own. I still use their winery to produce the wine, but I hope to build my own in the next few years. ”
“Owning your own winery sounds so romantic.”
“If you find fighting pests and fungi romantic, I guess it is.”
Allegra smiled. “They don’t show that part in movies.”
“What’s your plan while you’re in Toscana?” I asked.
“I don’t really have one. I’ve got an appointment to meet with my grandmother’s lawyer tomorrow to see what I need to do to probate her estate. Other than that, I figured I’d keep the shop open to sell off some of the inventory and clean out the house.”
“Clean it out to sell it?”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
I frowned, though it was probably better to have a new neighbor than keep the place empty. “That property is in your family for two hundred years.”
“I know. But I live in New York. And I don’t really have anyone here anymore, except for my grandmother’s sister, who I never got to know too well.”
“That’s all the more reason to hang on to a property, yes? Land connects you to your history. It remembers the people who lived on it and teaches the next generation about them without us even knowing it.”
She smirked. “Now you really sound like my grandmother. How old are you?”
I chuckled. “That’s because it is something she said. Every year on our birthdays, we would share a Vin Santo—a sweet wine made locally—at the end of the day. On her birthday, she played a Sinatra album, and I dance with her in da kitchen.”
“Really? Like my grandfather always did?”
I nodded. “She said it was the one gift she wished she had every year.”
“That’s so sweet. I hope she did something equally as meaningful on your birthday.”
“She cooked my favorite meal and gave me the gift of wisdom—like the bit about land teaching da next generation without them knowing it. The wisdom gift was her idea when I told her there was nothing I needed. But I always appreciated the advice she gave me.”
Allegra sighed. “I really miss her.”
“We should stop and pick up a tree to plant in your grandmother’s…giardino della vita. I don’t know how to say it in Inglese—da place where she plants the trees for the people.”
Her brows pulled together. “What trees for people?”
“At the back of the property, there is a small area with a mishmash of trees.”
“Where her swing is?”
“Si. That’s your grandmother’s tree garden. The swing, it is hung from your grandfather’s oak.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Each tree represents a member of your family. One is planted whenever someone passes. I thought about planting one when Sophia passed, but I didn’t wanta overstep.”
“Why didn’t I know that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe your grandmother assumed you did, yes?”
“She used to sit back there on that swing all the time, with a glass of wine.”
“When she told me about the garden, she said da least your grandfather could do since he died first was continue to hold her ass and drink wine with her.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know the meaning.”
I wondered if there was a reason Sophia hadn’t mentioned anything about the trees to Allegra, and maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
But it was too late. I couldn’t unsay it, so I leaned in a little more.
“There is a…vivaio not far from the plumbing-supply store—a place that sells plants and trees. My Inglese is a bit rusty.”
“Nursery?”
“Yes, exactly.”
She smiled. “I think your English is pretty good. Did you learn it in school?”
“Yes.”
“I took six years of Italian and spent every summer here for fifteen years, but I don’t remember ninety percent of what I learned. I don’t use it enough. Do you use English a lot, like with people in your business or something?”
I hesitated. “My ex-wife, she was American.”
“Oh.” Allegra let my answer soak in before adding, “If your divorce was anything like most of my clients’, you probably aren’t rusty on the curse words.”
“That’s what field you worked in? Divorce?”
She nodded.
“That sounds horrible.”
Allegra laughed. “Sometimes it can be. But at least there’s never a dull moment.”
“I suppose.”
I fell quiet for a while after that. Allegra didn’t seem to mind. She gazed out the window, lost in her own world. “It really is beautiful here,” she said. “I feel like I’m inside a painting.”
I looked around. Rolling hills were dotted with vineyards and golden fields, while dirt paths leading to hundred-year-old stone farmhouses were lined with cypress trees.
And every once in a while, we passed a sunflower field.
Even a bad photographer could snap a good postcard around every turn. “I’m a lucky man.”
When we arrived at the plumbing store, they only had one cast-iron tub in stock, but Allegra seemed to love it.
I picked up a few things I’d need to get her up and running—a new shower body, piping, and plumber’s tape.
Anything else, I had at home. The nursery was only a mile down the road, so we made a stop there after we were done.
“There are a few types of trees back there, aren’t there?” she asked.
I nodded. “The majority are cypress and pines, but there are also a few fruit trees, and your grandfather’s tree is da only oak.”
“I feel like Nonna should be an oak, too. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I think she’d like it if they matched.”
“An oak it is, then.”
We picked up a seedling, and by the time we made it back to Montepulciano, the sun was beginning to set. I parked in the antique shop’s driveway. “I’ll leave the truck here and unload da tub tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Okay. I have to be at the attorney’s office at one, but I can help before or after.”
“I probably have a couple of the pickers help me unload. If it’s okay with you, I might start while you’re gone.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate you helping me whenever you can.”
I got out of the truck, and Lupo jumped down behind me.
I’d been with this woman since six o’clock this morning, yet I still didn’t feel like calling it a day.
Allegra got out and didn’t make an effort to run into the house either, so I wondered if she might be feeling the same.
Though I reminded myself it was wiser to go home.
“All right.” I waved. “I see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you again for taking me to get the tub.”
I nodded. “And thank you for helping pick dis morning.” I whistled to jostle Lupo, who had already laid down at my feet. “Let’s go, boy.”
“Ciao.” She smiled, and I felt it in the pit of my stomach. It was definitely time to go. Because the only other time a woman had given me that feeling, I should’ve run, not walked, away.