Chapter 30
Allegra
A WEEK LATER, I picked up my phone and forced myself to dial without thinking about it anymore.
“Hi, um, Camilla?”
“Hello, Allegra.”
I pulled my feet up onto the kitchen chair and wrapped an arm around my legs. “How did you know it was me?”
“I don’t have too many people who speak Inglese when they call.”
“Oh.” I laughed nervously. “Right.”
There was an awkward silence, and then we both spoke at the same time.
I smiled. “You first.”
“I was going to ask how you were. After you left, I went downstairs to check on you, because you looked pretty upset, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I saw you had someone with you in the car, so I went back upstairs to give you some space.”
Great. She’d seen me bawling my eyes out to Matteo. “I’m better now. It was just…a lot to take in at once.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“Today I was cleaning out some of my nonna’s things, and I found a box of old pictures. Of her and my dad when he was little—well, um, our dad. And my grandmother’s parents and grandparents. I was thinking…maybe you’d like to see some of them.”
“I’d love that. Marcello once told me I looked like his grandmother, but I’ve never seen a photo.”
I thought it was interesting that she referred to Dad as Marcello. I was curious if that was for my benefit. “Do you always refer to him as Marcello and not Dad?”
“When I was nine, my mother married Gilberto. He was a very good father to me—patient, steady, and always showed up in a way that felt different from anyone else, including our Marcello. But it felt strange to call him Dad when I had already given that name to someone else. Though over time, things added up. Gilberto came to every school play, sometimes in his uniform because he would run straight from work—he was poliziotto—a policeman, but retired now. When I was sick, he would make me cinnamon toast and ginger ale. When I struggled with algebra, he taught himself just so he could teach me.”
I smiled. “I struggled with algebra, too.”
“No one has ever walked into my office and said if X apples cost four euro, how many Y oranges can I buy with eighty-three euro. Eh? How about you?”
I chuckled. “Thankfully, no.”
“Anyway, one day, Gilberto was in the kitchen eating breakfast as I was running out the door, late for school. I accidentally yelled, ‘Bye, Dad!’ I froze after I said it, and he just smiled and said, ‘Bye, sweetheart. I love you.’ And that was that. I’ve called him Dad ever since, and Marcello became just that—Marcello. ”
“That’s nice. I’m glad you had Gilberto.”
“Me too.”
“So…I thought maybe you could come by one day. To my grandmother’s house—our grandmother’s house. Sorry. It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.”
I heard the smile in her voice. “It’s fine.”
“Our grandmother’s house has been in the family for three generations, and I thought maybe you’d like to see it, and the pictures.”
“I would very much, and I’d also like to get to know you better.”
I took a deep breath, loving her candor. “I’d like to get to know you, too.”
Camilla and I talked for another fifteen minutes, settling on a date and time for her visit. As I hung up, Matteo walked into the kitchen, fresh from a shower and wearing no shirt. I smiled for multiple reasons. “I just spoke to my sister.”
“Oh?” He went to the coffee machine and started measuring grounds. “You didn’t mention you were going to call her today.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about it, and when I overthink things, I tend to talk myself out of them. So today when I started to think about it, I picked up the phone and did it.”
He smiled. “It went well, yes?”
“It did. I invited her over to the house to see some old pictures I found while cleaning out the attic the other day. I’m going to cook.”
Matteo raised a brow. “The house was smoking the last time you did that.”
I laughed. “Shut up.”
He pushed the button on the coffee machine, and it whirred to life. After, he walked over and kissed my forehead. “I’m happy for you.”
I figured as long as I was ripping Band-Aids off today, I might as well go for two. “How would you feel about taking another trip with me?”
He leaned a hip against the counter and shrugged. “Where did you have in mind?”
“New York.”
The little crease between his eyebrows deepened. “New York?”
I nodded. “One of my clients wants me to take over his case.”
I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning. “You’re going back to work in New York?”
“It’s just one case. It’s something I started, so I’d like to finish it for him since he reached out. But it’s also a big client with a lot of connections. It could be good for me.”
Matteo opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. His eyes lingered, flickering across my face, as if he were trying to read me like a book. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay, meaning you’ll go?”
“If you want me to, I’ll go.”
I jumped out of my chair and threw my arms around him. “Thank you. When can you leave?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how much time I can be away since we’re in harvest season. But you let me know when, and I’ll work it out.”
“Okay! I only have to be in court one or two days, since we stipulated to most of the major points in their prenuptial agreement. Maybe I can show you around the city, and we can have dinner with my friend Cassie and her husband while we’re there.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” He leaned down and kissed my lips. “But I must get going right now. Today is pressing day for the first batch of grapes we picked a few weeks ago.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a step in the wine-making process.
It separates the juice from solids. After the grapes are picked, I bring them up to my parents’ winery where we sort and destem.
After that, they go into tanks for fermentation where the grape sugars are turned into alcohol.
Then we press—remove the skins and seeds and any stems we missed.
My parents have a pneumatic press now, so it’s a lot less work than when we did years ago, but I’ll still be gone for most of the day. ”
“I want to learn more, but I know you have to go. Maybe you can teach me later?”
Matteo smiled warmly and stroked my hair. “I would love to teach you about what I do, bellissima. I’m happy you’re interested.”
After he left, I called the estate attorney to double-check that a quick trip to New York wouldn’t mess up the ninety-day requirement my grandmother had included in her will.
He said I’d have to tack however many days I was gone onto the time I had left when I returned, but at least it wouldn’t reset the entire count.
Then I looked at flights and texted Matteo to see if leaving in five days was too soon.
I thought I might not hear from him for a while, but he texted back almost immediately.
Matteo: I’ll make it work.