She had pled her case to the hotel manager when she’d presented herself at the front desk, though she glossed over the reasons she’d left her last position of managing a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York. She’d focused more on the fact that she’d worked in hospitality for her whole career. And more, that she had just moved to the area and would be delighted to work in any potential open position he had—because it was clear that La Paloma was destined to become the uncontested gem of the region, polished as it was to such a bright and glorious shine.
But the hotel manager had looked at her belly, sneered, and only then looked her in the face.Perhapsla signorashould be at home with her husband, awaiting this most blessed event. This would surely be a better use of your time.
He did not sayand mine.Though it was heavily implied.
La Paloma had descended upon them then, appearing in a cloud of scent and fury as she wafted her way into view. She was a formidable woman in every regard. She was the kind of skinny that was best suited by bespoke couture garments from ateliers in places like Milan and Paris, all of which hung perfectly on the sort of ruthlessly emaciated body that was more an advertisement of determination and self-control than any aesthetic. She had waved one bejeweled finger at the hotel manager.
Perhaps you should take your own advice, Raffaele.
And that easily, Hannah was hired.
La Paloma, champion of women though not one to go easy on anyone, had tossed Hannah directly into the deep end. She’d informed Hannah that she had two weeks to figure out the manager’s job and to excel at it. If she managed this feat, the position was hers. Complete with maternity leave.
That is remarkably kind, Hannah had said in sheer wonder as the furious Raffaele took his leave.
I’m never kind, La Paloma had told her, her dark eyes gleaming.But I like to think that I can spot a diamond in the rough, my dear girl. And I know how to make one gleam.
As if the diamonds dripping off of her didn’t tell the same story.
Hannah, obviously, had made certain to exceed the older woman’s expectations.
When Dominic was born, she had taken a month of leave and then had returned to work. She stayed mainly in her office so that she could keep the baby with her as much as possible and tend to what matters she could from there, since the guests certainly did not need to see the hotel manager’s private, domestic affairs.
When he was six months old, Cinzia had offered to watch Dominic whenever Hannah was working, and that was that.
She had somehow stumbled into this beautiful little life that fit her well, made her happy, and as far as she could discern, could not possibly be better in any regard. She loved what she did. She loved the hotel, was eternally indebted to La Paloma, and enjoyed the demands of her position and all the problem-solving it entailed.
Best of all, no one in the hotel was in the habit of flinging food in her direction, like the overwrought chef she’d had to contend with back in New York.
Tuscany might have been like a dream, but these days it was Hannah’s dream come true.
She parked her little car in its usual place in the staff parking area, and stepped out into the chill of the morning.
It was lovely and quiet today, with a cold wind dancing high above and scrubbing the sky clean. The hills rolled away toward the horizon, a more muted green than their summer splendor, but that did not make them any less beautiful. While she’d grown up in Nebraska, she often dreamed of places like this. Magical places so far away from what she thought of as real life. Fairy tales made real, and beautiful, in sophisticated settings far, far away from her small town life.
Her family had always teased her for that, and not always good-naturedly. They’d loved nothing more than to tell her that the real world wouldn’t be kind to a girl who lived and breathed fantasies the way she did.
So she’d proved them wrong, obviously.
She’d gone to college and found her way into the hospitality field. They had expected her to return home, and possibly move as far away as Omaha, a solid forty-five-minute drive away from her childhood home. They had all found it flashy and tasteless that she’d instead gone off to a terrible din of a place like New York City. And worse, had dressed like the sort of person who would be successful in New York City—as if you really thinkyou’regoing to make it,her sister had said one Thanksgiving with a derisive laugh.
But of course she felt that way. They all felt that way. They found itunimaginablethat Hannah started off right out of college working in hotels so luxurious that no one from her entire hometown could imagine that anyone would spend that much money on a single night’s stay. Much less go to a restaurant that charged even more.
Hannah had learned to downplay her initial run of success because they all found even that garish and showy. Or maybe it was that they thoughtshewas.
At a certain point, she thought now, she’d had to accept that the common denominator in the things her family didn’t like about her…was her.
Something that had become very clear and impossible to ignore when she’d gone home after losing her job at the restaurant.
She stood where she was, there near the parking area that was part of an ancient forecourt. In every direction, she was surrounded by the hills of Tuscany, the trees that seemed almost like heather this time of year—dressed in russets and deep autumn colors—and the winter vineyards slumbering in the cold ground. It was a sunny day now, if cool, with the morning mist burning off even as she watched.
Hannah took a deep breath, as if blowing it out again could scrape her family directly out of her system. That little sniff her mother liked to make. Her sister’s arch, judgmental asides. Her father’s quiet disapproval.
The fact that not one of them had reached out after she left at six months’ pregnant. She’d been the one to let them know that she’d settled in Italy when, three weeks after she’d left, there still hadn’t been so much as a text.
For all they knew, she’d been living rough somewhere.
Of course you’ve moved toItaly,of all places,her mother had said with a sniff.Typical Hannah.
