4. Chiara #3
Livia has planted her seed of doubt, wrapped in concern and helpfulness, and I have to keep answering practical questions while pretending I haven’t heard the insult beneath hers.
When the rehearsal ends, the staff disperse quickly. Livia disappears toward the cellars without a backward glance, her point made, her hands clean.
Rosalia stays behind, helping me gather the sample jars.
“That was harder than it needed to be.” She stacks the jars carefully in their carrying case. “She’s good at making questions sound reasonable.”
“She’s had years of practice.” I close the case and straighten, rolling the tension from my shoulders. “At least the timing works. The transition should be smooth if everyone does their jobs.”
“They will.” Rosalia checks the names beside the clearing team and adds a reminder to speak to them before dinner. “Most of them want this to succeed, signora. They’re just nervous about change.”
I appreciate her confidence more than I can say. “Thank you for running the notes. I couldn’t have managed the logistics and the diplomacy at the same time.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She shows me the revised timings before closing her notebook. The page has become a plan we can actually follow, despite Livia’s efforts to turn it into an argument. “Will you need anything else before dinner?”
“No, I think I’m finished for now.” I check the angle of the sun, lower now than when we started. “I should probably find Lorenzo. Let him know how the rehearsal went.”
Rosalia nods and takes the jar case inside, leaving me alone in the courtyard with my thoughts.
The rehearsal went well enough, technically.
The timing works, the positions make sense, the staff know what they’re supposed to do. But Livia’s careful concern has done its damage. If anything goes wrong at the launch, everyone will remember that she raised questions and I dismissed them.
I need Lorenzo to see what she’s doing. I need him to support me not just in meetings, but in the quiet moments when doubt takes root.
***
I find Lorenzo in his study after dinner, bent over papers as usual.
He looks up when I knock, and something in his expression shifts when he sees me. Not wariness, exactly. More like the careful attention of someone who knows a difficult conversation is coming.
“Can I interrupt?” I hover in the doorway, my notebook clutched against my chest. “I wanted to tell you about the run-through.”
“Of course.” He sets down his pen and gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Come in.”
I close the door, cross to the desk, and set my notebook down on its surface, freeing my hands. The chair he indicated is comfortable, worn leather that has probably held a hundred difficult conversations over the years.
“The timing works.” I settle into the seat, trying to organize my thoughts. “The transition from the display to the alcove should be smooth, and the first-pour positioning gives the cellar team plenty of space.”
“Good.” His attention stays with me even when his phone lights up beside the reports. For a moment I feel foolish for rehearsing this conversation in the corridor. “Any problems?”
“Livia raised concerns.” I watch his face carefully as I say it. “In front of the entire staff. About whether the approach was too unconventional, whether guests might be confused. By the time she finished, one of the senior men was asking me to scale it back.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I see something flicker in his eyes. “What kind of concerns?”
“The kind that sound reasonable but plant doubt.” I keep my voice steady with effort.
“She didn’t attack the plan directly. She just made sure everyone knows that if anything goes wrong, it’s because the outsider wife insisted on her unconventional ideas over the advice of people who actually understand this place. ”
“That’s not fair.” Lorenzo’s voice carries a note of defensiveness that makes my stomach tighten. “Livia has legitimate experience with these events. If she has concerns about execution, she should raise them.”
“She’s not raising concerns about execution.” I lean forward, willing him to understand. “She’s raising concerns about me. About my judgment, my competence, my right to make decisions about this launch. And she’s doing it in a way that lets her look helpful while making me look reckless.”
“You’re being paranoid.” The words land like a slap, and I see immediate regret flash across his face, but he doesn’t take them back. “Livia has known this estate her whole life. She cares about the launch succeeding. That’s not the same as trying to undermine you.”
“Your mother told me today that Livia has been in love with you since she was twelve years old.” I didn’t plan to say it so bluntly, but the words are out before I can stop them. “Did you know that?”
Lorenzo’s attention shifts from my face to the closed study door, as if his mother might be standing beyond it. “My mother said what?”
“She invited me for tea this morning. Warned me about Livia, about her feelings for you, about the relationships she’s built with the staff and the village.” I hold his gaze, refusing to look away. “She told me to watch my back. Your own mother thinks I need protection from your childhood friend.”
“My mother is…” He stops, visibly struggling for words. “She’s been isolated since my father died. She sees threats where there aren’t any.”
“Does she?” I stand, unable to sit still any longer.
“Because what I see is a pattern. Livia raises concerns, you defend her. I ask for support, you tell me I’m paranoid.
Four days ago you stood beside me in front of the valley families and chose my vision over her objections. What happened to that man?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his jaw tight.
“I supported you publicly.” He turns back toward the desk, where my notebook lies beside his reports, as though the proof is there between them.
“I haven’t changed my mind about your plan.
I took you out on the lake and tried to show you that I…
that things could be better between us. What more do you want? ”