Chapter Twelve
Hotel Casa Leonardo, Riva del Garda, at the north end of Lake Garda
Leo had visited Riva before, but never to view it as a prospective home. He discovered that he loved the vibrant town. It was smaller than Como, on a different lake, but still a lakeside community connected by ferries to other towns and villages.
He’d borrowed his mum’s car to drive there and soon realised that Hotel Casa Leonardo was a gem, beautifully kept, with vibrant red petunias nodding from wooden tubs either side of navy-blue doors.
Its current owners, Rosita and Flavio, were up against Flavio’s illness.
His grey hair hung lankly and his teeth looked overlarge in his gaunt face.
Whenever outdoors he wore sunglasses, as if he suffered from constant headaches.
Rosita, small and bespectacled, with silver showing at the roots of her dark hair, was visibly harassed and upset.
She confided in Leo, when Flavio was out of the room.
‘We’ve been here more than thirty years, but the hotel’s too much on top of .
. . everything.’ Leo felt sorry for the likeable Italian couple.
Before committing to this trip, he’d spent time with both an accountant and a commercialista.
The figures stacked up. Now he was here for a week to get a feel for the place.
All the guestrooms were full, Rosita had hastened to assure him, but there was a self-contained section to the owner’s apartment on the ground floor – what the British called a granny annexe – which their son had converted from outbuildings when Flavio’s mother had needed help.
It was just a bedroom with a sofa and TV, a shower room, and a place to make coffee, but it was perfect for a week.
Hotel Casa Leonardo was smaller than the Black Falcon or Villa Panorama.
Like Three Sisters, it was a B&B but also boasted a small bar that gave out into a garden edged with flower-filled tubs and white jasmine – an enchanting oasis that passersby could glimpse from the street through an archway.
All it took was a board outside with a painting of wine bottles and an arrow to turn some of those passersby into customers.
‘You and the hotel share the name “Leonardo”,’ Rosita declared as they stood in the pretty garden where a cerise bougainvillea was also in full bloom.
Flavio had gone indoors to rest, out of the blazing sun. ‘You’re meant for each other.’
Leo grinned, as he knew he was meant to.
‘It’s certainly the right size. Recently, I spent a day at a pensione that’s only a little smaller,’ he said, deliberately letting her think he might have other options rather than simply helping his old love.
An image of Jade flew into his imagination: laughing, sighing, bustling, always busy and animated.
Curls swishing. The gold in her eyes like sparks from a fire, her strong body arresting his gaze and stirring his . . . appetites.
Jade in the busy street outside Three Sisters. In his arms.
That kiss had felt like coming home. He hadn’t tried to stop her backing away from him afterwards, but his imagination had been only too willing to take it further. Her apartment. Her bed. Seeing her in the morning with bare feet and wild hair, as he used to.
Rosita was speaking about staff now, and he grasped that Hotel Casa Leonardo employed two more full-time staff than Pensione Three Sisters, plus a man a day or two each week for the shrubs and other outside jobs.
‘In winter, we open the garden on fine nights because the Christmas market from mid-November to early January brings people out, especially winter tourists,’ Rosita added eagerly, squinting against the sun.
‘We add mulled wine to the drinks menu and hang lights.’ She waved her hand as if to spin a web of fairy lights from the summer air.
Her expression was wistful, and he knew she and Flavio were sad at letting the lovingly kept hotel go.
And he could acquire it. It looked the perfect opportunity.
During the week, he went over the hotel room by room and had brioche with marmellata di cedri and cappuccino for breakfast, or mingled with guests in the bar, garden and on the roof terrace.
He wandered around nearby streets and chatted to neighbouring businesses.
He visited the historic centre, which Hotel Casa Leonardo stood outside.
He pictured a life here. The town of Garda instead of the city of Como.
The region of Trentino-Alto Adige instead of Lombardy.
With a shock, he realised that the UK was no longer in his calculations.
Maybe it was the way the blue sky lent its colour to the lake, or the mountains under summer sunlight.
Even the tourists outside cafés or striding off in hiking boots looked happy and relaxed.
Everything seemed perfect. Everything on his ‘must have’ and ‘nice to have’ lists were here, in this one, small, available hotel.
On his final day, Friday, he received a call from Sheenagh, breathless as if walking and talking at the same time. ‘When are you coming home? We’re having a family meal tomorrow evening. We’ve worked the duty roster so we can all have a few hours off at once. Can you make it?’
He smiled at her eagerness. ‘I’m travelling home tomorrow afternoon, so it sounds great.’ He went on to tell her about Hotel Casa Leonardo, though he’d posted photos on the family WhatsApp already. ‘It’s a great proposition.’
Sheenagh whooped happily. ‘If I can’t have you in Como, then Riva’s a lot closer than the UK. You won’t be that far away.’
He wanted to ask if she’d seen Jade, but didn’t for the same reason that he’d barely been in touch with her since the night he’d inexplicably found himself kissing her.
Her fine eyes, with their swirl of browns and golds, might hover constantly in his mind, but buying a hotel in Riva would mean a return to rarely encountering her.
An hour later, he joined Rosita and Flavio in their office.
‘I like what I see,’ he said, feeling no need to dissemble.
Both their faces lit up, even Flavio’s waxy one, and they settled down to discuss a purchase price.
Leo wasn’t hard on them because the premises were priced to sell.
Flavio was a sick man and Leo wasn’t a wolf, preying on the weak.
He’d even opened his mouth to say, ‘I’ll begin my mortgage application and hope to be in a position to make a formal offer soon,’ when, unexpectedly, the words dried in his throat.
He took a sip of water to try to ease them out, but it was as if something inside him was yelling.
Wait a second! Take time to reflect. Buying a hotel is a full-time, whole-life commitment, and not something to be undertaken lightly.
So, rather than all but shaking hands on the deal, he offered a weak, ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’
‘Of course,’ they murmured, anti-climax in the lines around their downturned mouths. Flavio looked exhausted and Leo felt guilty, especially when he saw tears in Rosita’s eyes.
Driving Sheenagh’s car home on Saturday afternoon, his doubts kept pace with him.
Was it a hangover from what had happened at the Black Falcon?
But this time he was buying without partners.
Everything would be under his sole control.
He couldn’t be worried about leaving his family again, could he?
Even his mum had said he wouldn’t be that far away.
Maybe he needed downtime. He’d crammed a lot into this week. Any sensible person took their time over major decisions.
Dinner that night had been booked at one of the family’s favourite restaurants, Ristorante Gia, in the shade of the immense, impressive, green-domed cathedral.
Leo’s drive home had been plagued by summer traffic jams. By the time he’d showered, jumped into clean clothes and then strolled to the restaurant, almost everyone else had arrived.
Sheenagh and Ferdinando, who knew the restaurant’s owners, had arranged a large table outside, now packed with his family.
They greeted him with catcalls and pointed glances at their watches.
He grinned at their teasing. ‘Sorry.’
Massimo looked relaxed, free of his Villa Panorama uniform, and Sofi, now thirteen weeks pregnant, had an inner glow that had replaced the withdrawn pastiness of a few weeks ago.
Her dress was splashed with purple flowers, as if to express joy at preparing to welcome a new little human into the world.
Leo kissed her cheeks and said, ‘Bellissima.’
As he shook his brother’s hand, Massimo slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Four hours to get here from Riva? Seriously?’
‘The traffic was crap.’ Leo kissed his parents and helped himself to an empty seat.
‘It would take even longer by train,’ Sheenagh added.
She looked lovely in a red summer dress that brought out the lights in her sandy-brown hair – or maybe she’d had it highlighted – and Ferdinando was resplendent in a blue silk tie with a spotless white shirt and black trousers.
Leo, like Massimo, had chosen shirt and jeans.
He’d thought about a jacket and T-shirt, because he liked that look, but the early-August evening was too hot.
He was about to ask about the empty seat next to him when Jade wandered across the uneven paving of Piazza Duomo towards them, her hair rippling loose down her back.
Her black top bared her shoulders and flowed down to the hips of a short white skirt.
He’d liked the colourfulness of the other women’s outfits until she’d appeared in monochrome elegance.
Now his gaze clung to her, hypnotised that her hair swung low and her skirt rode high as she stooped to kiss cheeks and exchange laughing greetings with each member of his family.
He wondered why he hadn’t even considered her being part of the gathering when she and Mairead had often joined Sartori family get-togethers.
And the only empty seat was next to him. Awesome.