64
GAbrIELA DUARTE
The invitation came from the board, not Luca.
The proposal was to establish an independently managed preservation foundation, initially funded by a personal donation from Sofia. I was invited to join the founding board and help set its technical criteria. I read the document three times.
“It’s a big proposal,” Cris said, handing back the pages. “Has your lawyer seen it?”
“I’ve read it, but I haven’t sent it to her yet. I want to know how involved Luca was.”
“Then have them check who’ll really be making the decisions before you accept.”
My lawyer requested changes to the clauses on the use of my name and the end of my term. I waited until they were accepted before scheduling the meeting. I called Sofia.
“Was this your idea?”
“I want to fund preservation without turning every project into a hotel. I offered the initial contribution, and the board approved support for setting it up. But you’ll all decide what to do.”
“He won’t be involved?”
“He’s been nominated for a nonexecutive seat. You can request the full list and speak to the other people invited.”
“I will.”
“Do. I’d like you to join, but you don’t have to say yes to please me.”
“What about you? Why aren’t you chairing it?”
Sofia paused.
“I’m eighty-five, and I still insist on reading everything without glasses. I need to start turning down positions, Gabriela.”
Over the next three months, we discussed the charter and budget in video meetings.
I accepted the term after the changes were approved.
Camila’s recovery made it possible to plan the trip, and her care team cleared her to travel.
My mother would come with me; Cris wanted to join us for a few days too, before going on to commitments in Lisbon.
We’d started talking again, more carefully, taking each other’s presence in our routines less for granted.
On the plane, Camila slept with her head against me. Heitor had spread pencils across the tray table, and Noah wanted to know whether we’d be staying in the big house. I showed him photographs of the rooms we’d chosen and explained that we could go out and explore too.
“Will you sleep close by?”
“Very close to your room.”
“And Daddy?”
I pointed to Luca two rows ahead, trying to retrieve a pencil that had rolled to his feet.
“In the same house. You can call either of us.”
We landed beneath a clear spring sky. On the drive, Heitor pressed his face to the window. Camila counted trees; Noah leaned forward to see Luca in the front seat. My mother and Cris were in the car behind us. When the Palazzo appeared on the hilltop, all three fell silent.
“Is that a house?” Heitor asked.
“It’s a hotel too,” I answered. “We’re staying in the part where your great-grandmother lives.”
“How many people live there?”
“Your great-grandmother lives here. The other rooms are for guests,” Luca replied.
Sofia waited on the steps, leaning on her cane. She wore a blue dress. When she saw the children, her hand went to her heart.
“Do you want to go inside or talk out here first?” I asked.
Camila chose the steps. Noah asked for the door to stay open. Heitor wanted to know if there was food. Sofia opened her purse and took out a packet of cookies. Camila was the first to approach.
“Are you the great-grandma who hides cookies?”
Sofia looked at Luca.
“So that’s how you chose to introduce me.”
“It made sense in context,” he replied.
Sofia sat on the bench by the entrance and made room beside her.
“I am. But I only hide them from your father.”
Camila hugged her. Heitor joined in. Noah stayed one step away, serious.
“Did you see us on the phone?”
“Yes. But I wanted to meet you like this, in person.”
Noah looked at the cookies before taking a step.
“Is there chocolate?”
Sofia turned the packet so he could check. Noah chose one and sat beside her.
I was the last up the steps, carrying Camila’s little suitcase. One wheel struck the marble, and I recognized the sound before looking up at the door.
“Welcome, Gabriela.”
“It’s strange being here.”
“I know welcoming you now isn’t enough,” Sofia said. “I’d like to talk to you later, if you want.”
The next morning, my mother and Cris took the children to the garden while I attended the foundation’s inaugural meeting. I sat beside a French specialist and an Italian architect. We discussed the projects presented in the earlier meetings. Luca brought his comments in writing.
A villa in Sicily prompted the first disagreement. The feasibility study favored a hotel, but the local association wanted a trade school and an archive. Luca wanted to fund a fresh assessment of its tourism potential. I presented the surveys showing which workshops would lose space under that use.
The board approved funding a joint study with the association, including mixed uses, before deciding on any construction. Luca voted against it but accepted the result. The secretary recorded the decision and who was responsible for the next step.
“I thought you’d be annoyed,” I remarked later.
“I was. That doesn’t invalidate the vote.”
At the end, Sofia gave me an old key.
“For the technical archive. The archivist has set aside some of Augusto’s papers for you.”
I went to the archive with the archivist and the French specialist. Luca came along.
We found my father’s plans, maintenance reports, and boxes that hadn’t been inventoried.
On a list of payments, several craftspeople appeared only by their first names.
I asked to photograph the reference and add it to the next agenda.
“We need to know what’s here before announcing that we’re opening the archive.”
Luca studied the shelves.
“I can help work out the cost of digitizing it.”
“First an inventory and an assessment by the archivists,” I replied.
“I’ll bring that to the next meeting.”
Before dinner, I met Paola in the hallway. She hugged me and held my hand for a long time. The children were in the living room with my mother, showing her the books Sofia had given them.
“I should have tried harder,” Paola said again.
“I know about the threat against your daughter, Paola. You were afraid.”
“I should have told you I’d found the original.”
“You should have. I would have understood more of what was happening. But I haven’t forgotten that you came to the hospital and helped me when I needed it.”
Paola wiped her eyes. We stayed there for a few minutes before going to the table. At dinner, she sat near the children and asked about Noah’s drawings.
After dinner, Luca walked me to the rooms. I still checked everything before bed, even though we’d already spent a night there.
“Have you checked that everything is how you asked?” he said.
I opened the connecting door between my room and the children’s.
“The beds are good. Noah chose the one by the window.”
“Heitor wanted to switch,” Luca said.
“Tomorrow he’ll want a different one. Tonight they’re staying as they are.”
Camila had already put her rabbit on the pillow. The boys were arguing about where to keep their books.
“Is my mother comfortable in her room?”
“She said yes. Cris asked for another pillow. The housekeeper’s already brought it.”
“Thank you.”
“The garden’s open if you want to see it. You don’t have to go with me.”
I waited until everyone was asleep. Then I went down alone.
The roses were blooming. The original design remained: gently curving paths, the restored pergola, the bench beneath climbing vines.
Every detail held something of the young woman I’d been.
Luca was some distance away, near the fountain. When he saw me, he made to leave.
“You can stay.”
Luca set his glass on the fountain’s edge and came over to me.
“You never changed the garden,” I observed.
“I didn’t want to.”
I touched a rose.
“What will you do if the board rejects more of your proposals?”
“I’ll try to persuade the others before the vote. I couldn’t today.”
“The villa’s community needs to take part in the study, Luca. Not just be handed a finished project.”
Luca smiled.
“You’re going to insist on that at every meeting, aren’t you?”
“It’s part of the mandate I accepted.”
“Arguing with you is one of the things I missed most.”
I laughed. Before going upstairs, I passed the bed beside the steps. A rosebush had grown over the path; I carefully moved the branch aside and looked for the gardener’s name in the contact list Paola had sent me.