Chapter 33
Allegra
“I’M SO NERVOUS.”
Tonight was the night my sister was coming over.
We’d been back from New York for five days now, and I’d miraculously managed to not think about her impending visit too much.
Matteo and I had slipped into a sort of domestic bliss, with him sleeping at my house or me at his every night.
Wherever we were, I usually conked out after he gave me a delicious orgasm, but last night, not even that had turned my brain off.
I’d tossed and turned, growing more anxious every hour until the sun finally came up.
“What can I do to help?” Matteo asked.
I grinned. “What you did a half hour ago was pretty helpful.”
He smiled, kissed my forehead, and took my empty coffee cup over to the sink, turning the water on. “I’m available for that whenever you need.”
“Leave that stuff.” I pointed to the breakfast dishes. “You’re already late to get out in the field because of me. I’ll wash it before I go next door.”
He looked at his watch and nodded. “Grazie.”
I stood, and Matteo walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my lips. “What time is she coming?”
“Six.”
“I’ll drop off some wine this afternoon for you to share.”
“Thank you.” I nibbled on my lip. “Would you…want to join us? Maybe not right away, but for dinner or dessert? I’d love for you to meet her.”
He pulled back and looked at me. “You sure?”
“Positive. I feel like my emotions are all over the place when it comes to her, and I might not be the best judge of character. I could use an opinion from someone without a stake.”
“I have a stake.” He squeezed me. “A very big one.”
I smiled. “You know what I mean.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to, yes?”
“You’re the best.”
And he really was. Usually when I started to date a man, the more we got to know each other, the more red flags I noticed.
But Matteo was bright green—all day, every day.
It made me smile as I stood at the sink, wearing his T-shirt that smelled like him, and washed the breakfast dishes, even with dinner with Camilla looming.
When I was done, I pulled a clean dish towel from the drawer to dry, putting the dishes away one by one.
As I reached up to place a mug in the cabinet, I accidentally bumped another cup already on the shelf.
It wobbled, tilted forward, and started to fall.
I caught it just before it hit the counter and let out a quiet breath of relief.
But then I looked at it—really looked at it.
This is…
I turned the cup slowly in my hands, examining the familiar, delicate brushwork.
Flipping it over, there it was—the same signature as all the others.
Small, slightly faded, but unmistakable.
It was exactly what I’d thought it was—one of the two remaining missing pieces of the tea set my grandmother had been collecting.
The odds of that felt…too strange.
I scanned the rest of the shelf, but there weren’t any others like it. No other cups from the set and no matching photo. Just this one lonely teacup, sitting among cups for coffee.
Why?
A dozen questions swirled in my head. Was this the cup that went with the confession that didn’t have a match?
Forgive me. I never meant to hurt the one I loved most. Had Matteo found it for my grandmother and never had a chance to give it to her before she died?
Had my grandmother been collecting them for him all along?
Or was it a bizarre coincidence? Montepulciano wasn’t exactly a sprawling city, after all.
It wasn’t impossible that pieces from a collection could float from one household to another.
Still, something about it made my stomach twist with the kind of unsettling feeling that wasn’t quite dread, but wasn’t just curiosity either.
But it was getting late, and I couldn’t let questions about a teacup spiral me into paranoia.
Lord knows I had enough of that with my sister coming tonight.
So I set the cup on the table and went to get dressed.
Once I’d pulled on the jeans and sweater I’d worn over last night and finger-brushed my hair, I picked the cup back up and made my way out to the field.
Matteo was carrying two baskets toward the collection bin. He looked up as I approached, and when he saw me, he smiled. But then his eyes fell to the teacup in my hand. His brows drew together, and his smile wilted. Yet he didn’t say anything as I made my way over.
“Hey,” I said, stopping a few feet away and holding up the cup. “Where did you get this?”
He glanced down again, and there was something in the way he looked at the teacup—like it pulled him somewhere else, somewhere a little painful. “Isabella,” he said. “I found it with her things after she died.”
“Your ex-wife?”
He nodded. “She was a painter, among other things.”
I turned the teacup over and looked at the initials—IL—Isabella Lucchese. “She made this?”
He nodded once more. “Why do you ask?”
Oh, wow. My grandmother had to have known Isabella, since she’d moved back in with Matteo before she died, and Nonna adored him. So she must’ve been collecting them for him?
Yet I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I smiled. “It’s just…beautiful. That’s all.”
Matteo looked at me a moment longer, like he was trying to figure out if there was more beneath my words. Maybe he knew there was. But if he did, he let it go. “She loved painting scenery from places she visited.”
I nodded, unsure why I didn’t tell him the truth about why I’d asked. I lingered a second longer, looking at the cup. Maybe I could find the last missing piece and surprise him with the full set, though he didn’t seem too happy to be reminded of her. “I’ll be careful when I put it back.”
As I returned to the house, my phone rang. It was a New York City number I didn’t recognize, but I swiped to answer as I opened the front door. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Allegra Bianchi?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is Elizabeth Parker. I’m the director of human resources at Aronson, Kepner, and Sloane.” I stopped in my tracks. AKS was my old firm’s biggest rival. In fact, I’d almost taken a job there when I’d graduated.
“How can I help you, Elizabeth?”
“I’m calling to see if it would be possible to set up an appointment for you to speak to Robert Aronson? He’s interested in speaking with you about potentially joining AKS.”
I blinked a few times. “Umm…sure.”
“Wonderful. When works best for you?”
It wasn’t like my calendar was full these days, but I definitely didn’t want to talk to him today. I had enough on my mind with my half sister coming over later. I also didn’t want to sound like I had nothing going on. “Can I ask you to hang on for a moment? I need to check my calendar.”
“Of course.”
I looked around while I waited thirty seconds. Matteo was in the field talking to Tomasso. He looked over, and I waved before lifting the phone to my ear again. “Hi. I’m fully booked today and tomorrow. Would Friday work?”
“Is one o’clock okay?”
“Yes, that’ll work.”
“Wonderful. Where would you like me to send the Zoom link?”
I gave Elizabeth my personal Gmail and made a mental note to look into getting a more professional email address. When I was done, Matteo walked over.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.” I tucked my phone into my back pocket. “That was…just a call about the case I’m working on.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell him the truth. And when he smiled—trusting, unsuspecting—I felt a pang of guilt I couldn’t shake.
“Enjoy your day.” He leaned in for a kiss.
“You, too.”
***
Matteo stopped over a few minutes before six, carrying two bottles of wine. I could tell from the label that they were from his reserve line.
“Thank you. But you didn’t have to give me the fancy ones. All your wine is delicious.”
“I’m happy to.” He caught my eyes. “How are you holding up?”
“Well, I changed into this sweater so she wouldn’t see the rash on my chest.” I smiled. “And the good news is the house is sparkling. But if she doesn’t come soon, I might have to start polishing the cans in the cabinets.”
“You’re going to be okay.” He smiled. “Do you still want me to come by?”
“If you don’t mind. Maybe about seven? That’ll give me an hour alone, and I’m not sure I can handle too much more than that.”
“She’s Italiano,” he said. “It will give you forty minutes with her, maybe. No one shows up for dinner on time.”
I laughed. “Okay. Just come whenever you feel like it.”
Matteo cupped my cheeks and tilted my head up for a kiss. Planting a soft one on my lips, he stroked his thumbs along my skin. “It takes a lot of courage to open a door you didn’t ask to knock on. You are brave even when you don’t feel it. She’s lucky to have you for a sister.”
I tasted salt in my throat and laughed, wiping my eyes. “God, don’t make me cry before she even gets here.”
“Call me if you want me earlier, yes?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
The twenty-five minutes after he left were excruciating. Matteo had been right that my sister wouldn’t show up on time. Camilla pulled into the driveway at twenty minutes after six, driving a small red convertible that was adorable.
I went to the door, and she got out and lifted a bottle of wine.
“Scusa. Sorry I am late,” she said. “I have no excuse other than I am never on time.”
I smiled. “I love your car.”
“I like my cars like my men, old but with low mileage.”
She put me at ease almost instantly. “What kind of a car is it?”
“An Alfa Romeo Spider. It will have a big birthday next year, turning fifty. Same as Vittorio, the man I am dating.”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “You weren’t kidding. You do like older men.”
She kissed both my cheeks. “You Americans, what is it you like to say? I have daddy issues.”
I probably shouldn’t have laughed, considering the subject matter, but her honesty was refreshing. “Thank you for coming.”
She looked over at the front gardens. “Bellissima.”
“My grandmother—” I caught myself and shook my head. “Our grandmother loved a wild garden. It matched her personality.”
“And you? Does it match yours, too?”