Chapter Two
The Black Falcon Hotel, Norfolk, England
The chef’s apartment of the Black Falcon hotel in the east of England was basic.
The hotel currently had no chef because the not-so-sleepy sleeping partner, Teddy Dangerfield, had interfered in the kitchen until the last incumbent had tossed in his hat and apron, and they’d had to rely on agency staff ever since.
At least it had given Leo somewhere to go, though it was a keenly felt demotion from the owner’s apartment now he and Isabella – Teddy’s daughter – had called it quits on their relationship.
Or relationships, as they’d been both life partners and business partners since he and Isabella had brought in her dad as a partner when buying the Black Falcon two years ago, a move Leo now bitterly regretted.
He should have taken the word danger in Dangerfield literally, because they’d ‘done him up like a kipper’ as one of his English colleagues might have said and eased Leo out of the business.
He sat on the bed, FaceTiming his parents in their apartment in faraway Como.
His mum, Sheenagh, gazed out from his laptop screen.
A picture hung on the white wall behind her – an old oil painting of the family hotel, Villa Panorama, when it had still been the home of a minor, but wealthy, Italian conte in the eighteenth century.
Leo wasn’t sure the ornate, gilded frame went with his parents’ contemporary corner sofa, the colour of which Sheenagh had told him was ‘nude pink’.
Now, whenever he saw the sofa, he found himself deciding which part of a naked body was that colour.
‘Not on duty tonight?’ he asked. It was a Thursday evening.
‘Since Papà and I semi-retired, I rarely manage Bar Fiori or Lounge Panorama in the evenings.’ Sheenagh looked relaxed yet groomed, as if she’d spent the afternoon in the parrucchiere getting her hair done.
It had faded from brown to sandy in recent years, which went with her freckles.
‘Why don’t you come home to Como for a wee while?
’ she suggested, her Scottish accent not much diluted by making her home beside an Italian lake since her marriage to Leo’s dad in the far-off eighties.
‘You need a place while you decide what to do next. Or do you have someone there in England you can stay with?’
‘Not really,’ Leo admitted. The couple of years he’d lived in Norfolk had been too busy for him to create deep friendships.
When he noted Sheenagh’s anxious frown, unexpectedly his heart ached for his family living and working happily in the sunshine of Como beside the depths of the lake and surrounded by mountains, terracotta roofs and softly waving palm trees.
He paused to consider. ‘What do you think Massimo would say?’ His brother had continued to live in Como and work in Villa Panorama after Leo had left to expand his horizons – climbing the career ladder beautifully until the last two years.
‘It’s not his fault things haven’t worked out for me. ’
Sheenagh breezed past this. ‘No doubt he’ll be happy to have you home. You could have Villetta Nascosta. We hit builder trouble with the refurbishing, so it’s only just finished and not included in any tour operator’s allotment yet.’
Villetta Nascosta was a picturesque stone building in the upper garden of Villa Panorama, reached by a winding, cobbled path as mossy as the villetta’s tiled roof.
Presumably it had once been a grotto, a shady spot for the aristocratic family who’d lived there to while away their leisure hours.
It had taken Sheenagh ages to circumvent the local planning laws and add it to Villa Panorama’s guestrooms. Replacement window frames had had to be faithful copies of the original arched and shuttered windows, likewise the arched door.
‘If you had it for the summer, would that give you the time you need?’ she added.
‘I think so.’ He smiled at her hopeful expression.
‘Villetta Nascosta’s plum accommodation.
I’m touched by your generosity.’ Maybe it was time for him to take a break from the UK.
It would be good to hear ‘Leo’ pronounced ‘LAY-oh’ again, rather than the anglicised ‘LEE-oh’.
And he’d barely seen his family in the past couple of years. ‘Let me speak to Massimo.’
She beamed. ‘That’s grand, son. Do you have a date for the buyout yet?’
Fresh irritation rolled through him at the reminder that he was about to be ousted from the Black Falcon. ‘The solicitors think it’ll be next week.’ Heartily sick of the subject, he added, ‘I’ll say bye now so I can call Massi.’
‘Before you do,’ she put in, the light leaving her face.
‘I want to let you know . . . I’m afraid we’ve lost Mairead Campbell.
’ She blinked, as if voicing the words had brought tears to her eyes.
‘She’s been slowing down for a wee while and was in hospital for a few days before the end.
Jade will miss her awfully. The service and the repast will be at Villa Panorama. Mairead had already arranged it.’
Leo had known Mairead all his life, a lively, laughing woman, and his, ‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ was heartfelt. But it was Jade his mind flew to, her long shining curls, the athletic body that he’d once known so well. That mouth. Those eyes . . . proprio carina – really lovely.
They’d last met at Massimo’s wedding two years ago, where the Ghost of Relationships Past had created a chill in the air of a summer day.
And Isabella! Few men would enjoy their ex-girlfriend and current girlfriend meeting, but Isabella had condescended to Jade about Pensione Three Sisters as if it were a shed.
Jade, a vibrant, intelligent woman now running the thriving guesthouse, had merely quirked one eyebrow and treated Leo to a contemplative stare, before sauntering off to chat to someone else, probably familiar with almost everybody in Lounge Panorama and on its terrace.
Involuntarily, Leo’s gaze had dropped to her rear view as she’d moved between the dressed-up guests and the sumptuous wedding flowers, and Isabella had noticed and retreated to their room in furious silence.
They’d only just bought the Black Falcon and Teddy hadn’t yet spoilt their relationship, but rather than follow her huffy exit, Leo had searched out old friends and drunk to Massimo and Sofi’s health too thoroughly.
The alcohol hadn’t helped him forget what a bumptious moron he’d once been in taking a job in England first and telling Jade second, then suggesting she transplant her life to England too.
He still cringed when he looked back on that brash, presumptuous young Leo Sartori.
He’d been like an athlete, desperate to play the game of life, take it on and win.
No wonder Jade had stalked out of his apartment, leaving him with just the lingering scent of her perfume and the echo of a closing door.
Maybe he should have gone after her.
Life could have been quite different . . .
Shoving these memories aside, he called his younger brother, Massimo, who answered with a breathless, ‘Un momento, Leo.’ Judging by the background chatter and laughter, he was busy, maybe in Bar Fiori. In hospitality, the days were long and duties varied.
While Leo waited, he remembered how thrilled he’d been in his mid-teens when his parents had bought the hotel from Mairead Campbell.
Villa Panorama had been a significant move up from their much smaller hotel in Piazza San Fedele, looking over at the Basilica di San Fedele’s starkly beautiful stone facade and its circular window known as the rose window – though he’d always thought it was more like a daisy.
It had been weird thinking Jade must have slept in one of the rooms at Villa Panorama that he and his family had moved into, but Jade had just been a friend in those days and the alien feeling had worn off.
Now Massimo and his wife, Sofi, occupied the same apartment.
The sound of a door closing suggested that Massimo had located a quieter spot and, switching to English, his brother asked, ‘How’s it going?’
Leo didn’t need to be told what it was. It was the mess Leo was in.
He groaned. ‘Horrible.’ He assumed a high-pitched voice with an approximation of Isabella’s English accent.
‘Let’s buy our own hotel. Dad’s coming home from South Africa with a bulging bank account.
He’d like to be a sleeping partner and then we won’t have to borrow much.
Pah.’ He spat the word, reverting to his own tones.
‘And I walked right into it, assuming that if there had been any two-against-one stuff, the two would be me and Isabella. I didn’t suspect she’d have what some people might call “daddy issues” from him living in South Africa since she was in her teens.
I’d only met him on Zoom calls and he seemed fine.
At first, I tried to make excuses for Isabella siding with him, like she was used to her dad being half the globe away and now she was overdoing the loving-daughter thing .
. . but she let Teddy try to make me into his bloody assistant.
’ Leo halted, aware he was complaining. ‘You’ve heard enough of my resentments. How’s Sofi?’
‘Lovely,’ Massimo answered simply.
‘Pleased for you.’ Leo meant it. He eased down to lie flat on the bed, gazing at the ceiling and the single light in a cheap white plastic shade. ‘I rang to get your views on a suggestion Mum made.’ Briefly, he explained Sheenagh’s offer.
Massimo paused. ‘You coming home sounds great. I’ve almost forgotten your face.’
Leo frowned, aware of a hesitation. ‘I’m not trying to muscle my way back into the business.’
Massimo laughed unconvincingly. ‘It’s still Mum and Dad’s business. I’m a humble employee.’
Leo scoffed. ‘The kind of employee with the title “House Manager”. What’s up?’
Massimo switched to rapid, decisive Italian. ‘I don’t think it would go well if you moved into the apartment. Sofi and I are used to our privacy.’