Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Finale
Four Months Later
Daisy
T he lobby of Hotel Marchesi smells of polished wood and fresh flowers, just as I remember, and though everything looks exactly like it did before, my senses catch a note of change.
Maybe because there’s no whiff of musk in the air, and bossa nova comes out of the speakers in the bar rather than classical music.
A bar that is empty.
That wouldn’t usually come across as strange. After all, it’s a Monday, late afternoon, and most guests are enjoying the summer day outside. To me, it’s not surprising either, but my stomach drops regardless.
I make my way to the reception desk and talk to the employee on duty.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Lorenzo Fontana.” You could have just called him , I tell myself as the woman draws her brows together questioningly.
“Sorry, he doesn’t work here anymore,” she says, still a little confused. “Can I help you with anything? Are you a guest?”
You can still call him… I almost grunt, not knowing who is more cowardly, me or the annoying voice in my head.
“No, I’m… I’d like to talk to Luigi Marchesi then. Can you tell him Daisy Hogan is here?”
The woman’s forehead furrows a bit more, and I expect she will say Luigi Marchesi also doesn’t work here anymore. But she calls him.
Five minutes later, I’m entering Mr. Marchesi’s office after receiving an effusive hug.
“What a lovely surprise, Ms. Hogan!”
“I’m happy to see you, Mr. Marchesi. And please, call me Daisy.”
“And it’s Luigi for you. Please, take a seat.” He motions toward the chair next to me and sits facing me across his desk. “I’d ask what brings you here, but I suspect I already know the answer.”
I look down, smiling, suddenly shy. “When did he leave?”
Luigi’s eyes widen as if he didn’t expect me to know so little.
I answer his mental question. “We haven’t been in touch.”
I take a deep breath, remembering with regret our last text conversation, when I said I was home, and Lorenzo sent me the selfie of us he took with his phone.
My only reply was a heart. He sent a heart back.
But then nothing else from either of us.
I’m sure he wanted me to show I wanted to keep in touch, and since I didn’t, he fell silent.
“It’s my fault, you know?” I tell Luigi. “I didn’t want to talk to him because I didn’t want him to know I’ve been making plans to move to Venice since I landed in LA.”
It’s weird to put it all in perspective now, looking at the past four months as a success story when most of the time I feared I was doing everything wrong.
“The day after I arrived home, I went to the meeting with the owners of La Veneziana and realized I couldn’t go ahead with the purchase. It wasn’t my dream anymore. So I called Chef Carlo Gravano, the owner of La Caorlina, to discuss the possibility of buying his restaurant.”
Luigi’s eyes grow even more. He didn’t know that either, of course.
“Things moved slowly at first,” I continue.
“Then very fast, and suddenly I was so busy, and…” I rub my face.
“I didn’t want to jinx it, you know? I just…
I didn’t want to talk to Lorenzo again until it was all certain.
And by that I mean now , when I’m in Venice to stay, renting an apartment in the San Polo district, with my crew hired and ready for the grand opening next Saturday. ”
“ Caspita! Congratulations, Daisy!” Luigi claps, adding a few cheers of “Brava! Brava!” that make me laugh and take a bow.
“Thank you, Luigi.” He’s such a sweet man. I totally understand why Lorenzo loves him.
“So your plans worked, and you needed that to feel you could contact Lorenzo again?”
I look at my hands and sigh. “Yes. I wanted my life to be in order. And I wanted him to focus on his ambitions too. I didn’t want to be in the way of his plans, you know? Especially not when I wasn’t even sure things were going to happen the way they did.”
“I see, I see…” Luigi scratches his chin then leans forward to look at me more closely. “Well, Lorenzo left when the orchestra in Milano called him.” My heart pounds, happy that he got the job. “He’s been there since, living with his grandma in Pavia and commuting to work every day.”
I nod, ready to say—even if only to myself—that I made the right decision by leaving Lorenzo alone to follow his path, when Luigi adds, “But what I heard last time I talked to his grandma—lovely lady, by the way—was that he is not happy and is thinking about quitting.”
“What?” I lean forward, gripping the edges of the desk. “Why?”
Luigi leans back, shrugging. “I guess he’s a new man now. He hates Milano… Feels he doesn’t fit in there. He misses Venice and the hotel.”
I’m speechless, my heart telling me to do something, but I have no idea what .
“I feel that I failed him…” Luigi pinches the bridge of his nose, looking as sad as I feel because we both love Lorenzo. “I shouldn’t have made him choose between music and the hotel. I should have accepted he could be a great manager even if he was also a musician.”
I nod because, yes, that sounds so right. “Can’t you do something about it?”
If Luigi invites him to work here again… My heart thumps, daring to hope.
“I’m retiring in two months, and I’ve been thinking of calling him because he’s still my top choice—the only one I can accept, really…”
“Then do it, Luigi,” I push him. I have to. This feels right for all of us.
Luigi smiles at me. “I guess I will then. What about you?”
We stare at each other, and it’s his turn to dare me to fix things with Lorenzo.
I shouldn’t have abandoned him. We needed each other as we navigated our lives apart, and I know that if I had allowed that, we would have gotten where we needed to be in a much less painful way.
I can only hope it’s not too late…
“He’s not seeing anyone,” Luigi assures me. “He still loves you. You changed him, Daisy. Don’t let him go.”
I won’t. Ever again.
I swallow my tears, recalling my video conversation with Jeremy this morning.
When I told him I was going to look for Lorenzo today, he suggested—hopelessly affected by all the rom-coms he now watches—that I should prepare an epic speech or do something super romantic like the “dashing through the airport” move.
In the end, I concluded that if I could get my cowardly ass to the hotel, it’d be a win.
I smile at Luigi, having an idea. “Can you help me with something? It’s a sort of grand-romantic-gesture project.”
Four Days Later
Lorenzo
“Ragazzo!” Luigi gives me a bear hug, and though he steals all the air from my lungs, I’m glad for his warm embrace. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it.
It’s so good to be back at Hotel Marchesi. I’ve missed it so much. The fresh smell of roses, the ding of the elevators, the familiar buzz of guests coming in and out… This is home. Fuck Milano—with all due respect.
I spent the three-and-a-half-hour train trip reflecting on what went wrong. Milano is a beautiful city, and it’s where I grew up. I can make a list of reasons why someone would want to live there, and yet somehow, that list doesn’t appeal to me. And neither does the job I thought I would love.
I guess I’ve really changed.
“Did you tell me to come all the way here just to hug me, or are you going to offer me my job back? Because I’ll be honest, Luigi. I’ll take it.”
He was very mysterious over the phone, but I know the man. He’s up to something. And if I’m right, it’s just what I need.
“Lorenzo.” He puts a hand on my shoulder and glances at the violin on my back then the suitcase by my side. He better not have rented out my servant quarters to someone else. “I haven’t vacated the room yet, so I’m sorry to say you’ll have to stay in your old lodgings for now.”
My eyebrows rise. “By room , you mean—”
A broad smile stretches beneath his mustache. “You’re replacing me, ragazzo . I leave in two months, but you can start tomorrow if you want. I’ll be busy with my own stuff.”
I laugh, so loudly that a group of guests turns to look at me all the way from the bar.
Then I hug Luigi, and it’s my turn to squeeze him until he’s breathless.
“Careful, son, I’m a senior gentleman.” He immediately adjusts his tie when I let him go, and I keep laughing then hold his face and kiss both his cheeks.
He mumbles a few complaints in Italian, but I ignore them and say, “Grazie, grazie,” as I press his tense shoulders.
“But pay attention.” He raises a finger. “I will also hire a night manager so that you can play in the evenings. And you will play. Somewhere. Even if it’s for the guests at the bar. Deal?”
My smile grows again. “Of course.” I shake his hand.
This is the dream I didn’t dare have before.
In the past few months, I realized that being an orchestra musician is not the only path that can give me joy.
As long as I’m playing in my free time, I’ll be happy.
I keep thanking Luigi as he makes dismissive gestures like he didn’t just put his hotel in my hands. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”
“You already make me proud.” He holds me by the shoulders in a paternal way.
I hug him again, my eyes filling with liquid emotion.
He taps my back, and I control myself, keeping everything in.
I want to tell him he is the father I never had, the best boss in the world, and the most proper senior gentleman to walk the streets of Venice.
Hopefully, my affectionate squeeze on his shoulder tells him all that.
“You’re my heir too, do you hear me?” he whispers, close to my ear so no one else can listen—even though we’re alone in the lobby now.
Hotel Marchesi will be mine one day? Mamma mia! Davvero? The tears hiding behind my eyes almost leak out, and I hug him again.
“You make sure to take care of this place if I drop dead during my tour around Italy, eh?”
I squeeze him harder, laughing. “And you take care so you don’t drop dead on your tour around Italy. I still need to cook every dish in your book.”