Chapter Two #3
After paying the driver his fare and saying, ‘Arrivederci,’ Leo pulled his luggage into the air-conditioned reception area of gleaming white-and-grey marble.
Green vases of white hydrangeas graced the polished wooden desk.
A young man he didn’t know smiled a greeting, then narrowed his eyes as if wondering whether he should recognise Leo. He and Massimo did look quite alike.
Leo introduced himself. ‘Do you know where I can find my parents or my brother?’
‘Your parents are in Lounge Panorama,’ the young man said with a tentative smile, as if not certain how to address a non-Villa-Panorama Sartori.
‘Can I leave these in the luggage room?’ Leo rolled the suitcases round the desk to the door painted pale green to look like one of the tall décor panels, and parked them and his backpack inside.
The young man gave him a reclaim token, as if he were a guest. He flipped the silvery disc in the air before stowing it in his pocket. He was a guest. It felt great.
Before leaving Reception behind, he glanced into Massimo’s office with both Direzione and House Manager sign-written on the door.
Empty. The rest of the staff suite – his parents’ office, the conference room and other facilities – lay behind a door protected by a keypad to which he possessed no code.
Breathing in the scents of food, coffee, air freshener and polish, he strolled across gleaming grey tiles into Bar Fiori and paused to drink in its fantastic view of the glittering lake and blue sky.
Dozens of motorboats were moored in the nearest marina, with rowing boats dragged up on the slipway and wrapped in canvas as if mummified.
Two ferries bobbed at the breakwater that protected the further marina, while boats underway churned blinding-white wakes on the lake’s surface, and a red seaplane circled overhead.
Beyond, buildings peeped between the trees covering the uneven ridge of the mountain.
To the right, the lake widened between majestic, steeper slopes.
Left lay Como’s historic centre, the green dome and cupola of il Duomo, the cathedral, rising above all other buildings like a benevolent eldest child keeping watch over its shorter siblings.
No wonder the place had been named Villa Panorama.
The bella vista alone must be worth a fortune, but Leo knew his parents’ hard work had made the hotel more valuable still.
Twenty or thirty people sat at the bar or at one of the dark wood tables and a young woman glanced up from behind the counter with a smile for Leo.
But his attention swung to the folding doors opening into Lounge Panorama as a familiar voice floated through.
It was answered by another, equally familiar and well-loved, and followed by the scraping of furniture.
Lounge Panorama – which shared Bar Fiori’s stunning views – must be in the throes of being prepared for a function.
Eager for the loving welcome he’d been anticipating, he fairly bounced into the lounge. ‘Hello, Mum! Ciao, Papà. Getting ready for a party?’ Too late, he noticed a third person in the room. And she wasn’t a member of hotel staff, despite her plain, dark dress.
She was Jade Beretta. Her glorious hair that looked as if it were threaded with copper wire rippled over one shoulder. Her complexion was pale and her luscious lips lay in a flat line. Stonily she said, ‘Ciao, Leo. It’s not a party. It’s Gran’s funeral tomorrow.’
His parents stared at him with matching expressions of dismay, both wearing neat work garb, Sheenagh’s hair up in a bun. Ferdinando’s shirt hugged his round stomach, his thin grey hair combed back.
Mortification burned Leo’s face. ‘Jade . . . I’m so sorry. Sorry you lost your gran. Sorry I burst in on you with such an ill-judged remark.’ He lifted his hands to take hers to convey the heartfelt depths of his apology, expecting her fingers to loop through his for the first time in years.
But she kept her arms firmly by her side, with a smile that failed to reach her eyes.
‘No problem.’ She turned to his parents.
‘Thank you both. I don’t know how I could have managed without you.
I’ll leave you to welcome Leo. I need to speak to the celebrant.
See you tomorrow.’ A warm hug for each of his parents and a cool nod for Leo, before she turned for the door.
He winced, shaken by the sorrow in those familiar, beautiful, whisky-coloured eyes. ‘Sorry again,’ he called after her, painfully aware that he’d been about as sensitive as one of the craggy mountains encircling the lake.
Sheenagh sighed as Jade strode from sight. ‘That was unfortunate, Leo.’ But then she smiled as she dragged him into the warm hug he’d expected.
Ferdinando followed suit. ‘Benvenuto a casa.’
Being yanked against the thick, hot body of his generally undemonstrative father made Leo’s eyes prickle.
‘Grazie, Papà,’ he muttered gruffly, returning the fierce hug, thinking that the phrase ‘heart-to-heart’ shouldn’t refer to conversation but to loving embraces like these, when the heart of a loved one beat against yours.
But he felt guilty to be enveloped in so much love, when Jade had just lost the only family member she knew.