Chapter 16
RESEARCH NOTES
Previous literature suggests that Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs may provide a model of childhood development.
The idea of establishing a child’s basic needs before leading them through more complex socioemotional interactions is valid.
However, it is impossible to suggest that all children would be able to have these basic needs met before their life experiences demand more complex processing of socioenvironmental or intrafamilial interactions.
Therefore, this research will attempt to dismantle rigid assumptions about what children are capable of behaviorally and emotionally.
“Seventeen DMS? Was that this month?”
“That was this week,” said Nico, pushing down on the window handle one last time to be sure that it was rolled down as much as possible. There were, of course, no power windows in the Panda.
“What do you do when you get them?” asked Andrea.
“Sorry it’s so hot in here.” He tapped the handle on his own window, as though allowing more hot air to blow into the car would be a benefit.
When they were bouncing along the dirt road on the way to Silver Sea Ranch, they’d had the shade of the pines.
Now that they were getting closer to the beach, sunlight flooded the little car, turning it into a rolling pot stove.
“Eh, who cares? These old Pandinas are the best. Too bad I’m gonna sweat more here than during a tennis lesson,” he said, laughing.
“What do I do? First I see if I can figure out who it is. Sometimes I can’t tell.
It could be a tennis club member, someone who came there for vacation, or someone random who saw me on a video somewhere.
My first rule is, no one from the club. That would be bad. ”
“I can imagine. Plus, I’m sure half of them are married.”
“No married women,” Nico declared, raising an index finger. “No married, no engaged, no one who dated any of my friends or the other instructors in the area.”
“So, we’re really narrowing down the field here.” Andrea rolled the car to a stop to engage the 4x4 and took off again, the rugged tires powering up a short, steep hill.
“Right! That’s what I’m saying. It doesn’t matter how many messages I start with; I always end up with only one or two possibilities. Wait, they also can’t live so far away I’m spending hours driving, they have to speak a language I speak, they can’t be more than ten years younger—”
“Or ten years older?” Andrea cut in.
“Nah. I don’t have an upper limit. Older women know things, you know? It’s always a good time. But for the most part, it’s going to be just a couple of women, and none of those have ended up being more than a date or two.”
“Did you ever consider trying to meet women who don’t DM you first? Maybe that’s a whole category of untapped potential.”
“I’m telling you. I’ve tried everything,” said Nico, grabbing onto the door handle as they jostled around. “There’s only one woman I can’t stop thinking about. It’s so weird.”
“Weird because you can’t stop thinking about her, or because there’s only one of them?”
“Sure, make fun. I bet it’s the same for you. You can’t tell me you don’t get women throwing themselves at you. It’s that authority-figure thing, right? Women are into that.”
“I get DMs telling me that there’s a streetlight out or the beach bar was playing music too loud after midnight,” Andrea said, shifting into a lower gear.
“I think I’d prefer that at this point.”
“No problem, you want my job? You too can be tasked with going to check out abandoned properties that no one has entered in decades.” Andrea could see the main gate up ahead—or at least what was left of it.
“Do you really think someone is going to buy this? And how is it not a pile of splinters after all the storms we’ve had?”
“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but I think we’re about to find out.
” Andrea rolled past the double gate that had only one side still attached to its post. He kept driving forward to one of the main buildings that looked like a cross between a house and a garage and finally stopped in front of the remnants of a porch.
He yanked up the parking brake, and they both got out of the Panda, trying to take it all in.
To the left stood a giant barn with some of the wooden shutters of the horse stalls still intact.
Beyond that was the white, gravel-lined circle that would have been a paddock when there was still fencing.
There were numerous outbuildings, sheds, and barns, but not one of them was without some kind of damage.
“It looks like it was bombed,” said Nico. “I know where you can get a bowl of spaghetti with clams that would be worth more than this.”
“You never know,” said Andrea, making his way toward the larger barn. “Maybe it doesn’t need much more than some cosmetic work if the structure is good.”
“The structure looks good to set on fire and start over again.”
“Can I help you?”
Andrea whipped around, hearing a gravelly voice from behind one of the smaller sheds.
An older man who looked to be in that indeterminate age range between seventy-something and ninety-something emerged smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.
He wore denim overalls and a straw hat, a faded red bandana around his neck.
If Andrea didn’t know any better, he would swear that this man had fallen right out of a western film.
And he had absolutely no idea who he was.
“I’m Andrea Garibaldi, mayor of Baia Santa. This is my associate Nico Raggi. May I ask who you are, sir? It is my understanding that the former owner, Ivo Giordano, is deceased, and this property now falls under the care of the town.”
“I’m Tancredi. I ran this place for twenty years while Ivo was alive,” the man said, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I used to come by to make sure the roof didn’t cave in. But now I’m too old to do much more than put a bucket inside when it rains.”
“My apologies. I didn’t know that there was a caretaker here,” Andrea said, opting to show respect to the old-timer in the hopes that he could share some information. “Do you have time to show us around? We’d be grateful for a few stories.”
“I’ll show you some things,” Tancredi said, pointing a gnarled finger at them. “No promises on the stories, though.”
He led Andrea and Nico around the property, pointing out different rooms and buildings, what they were used for, or which horse lived in which stall.
Some of his thoughts were precise, like his recollection of the riding trails he’d marked out up in the hills around the sea.
Some thoughts were muddled, like which years Ivo was traveling and which years he was there training the orneriest of their horses and practicing tricks.
The property itself was massive, and in an area that was mostly rocky and hilly, the expanse of flat land alone made it invaluable.
Even if someone wanted to buy it and only return half of it to its former glory, it would be worth it.
“I knew this day would come,” said Tancredi, looking fatigued as he leaned against an old section of fence. “I know there’s no one left to care about this place anymore. But remember that it still has a soul. Most people won’t see it. They’ll bulldoze it all for money.”
“I assure you that we do not wish to sell this property to someone who is going to tear it down and build condominiums.”
“Especially now that Ivo’s daughter is here. I doubt that she will want that to happen,” added Nico.
Andrea flinched. Lora would lose it if she knew that her name had been thrown around out here. He should have told Nico not to say anything, but maybe the old man hadn’t heard him anyway.
“Ivo’s daughter?” Tancredi seemed to perk up a bit, his clouded eyes glowing brighter. “From America?”
“Yes,” Andrea said, curious. “Did you know about her?”
Tancredi nodded. He looked down, thinking, it seemed. He pulled a cigarette that had already been rolled out of the top pocket of his overalls and placed it between his lips. Turning to the sun, he said, “I have some things. She should have them.”
“What kind of things?” asked Andrea.
“Some things Ivo left. Others were sent back here after the accident. His parents didn’t want them, but I couldn’t throw them away. I knew that eventually”—he broke off, lighting the next cigarette with an ancient-looking silver Zippo—“someone would come.”
They decided that they would drive Signore Tancredi back up to his little hut up in the hills above the ranch to retrieve whatever it was that he wanted Lora to have.
Andrea tried to keep small talk going with the old man in the front seat while Nico was folded into a pretzel in the back, but the road was so steep and rocky it required almost his full attention.
He couldn’t understand how this man was able to get up and down this hill at his age when he was tired just hauling the little Panda up the road.
Andrea didn’t know what to say when the man went inside and returned with a box of Ivo’s personal effects.
He only thanked him, promised to pass it on to Lora, and waved as they drove away.
“What the hell just happened? Who even was that guy?” Nico turned back to look at the box sitting on the back seat. “What do you think is in there?”
“I’ve honestly never seen him before. And I don’t know what’s in that box, but I know Lora’s not going to want to deal with it.”