‘Compensation, that’s what I call it. In the olden days they say you could sue for breach of promise. Though that wouldn’t make up for being left on the shelf.’
Stella had a sudden vision of her and Carol perched in the window of Domenico’s shop, her friend in fuchsia from head to toe, a ‘one not-so-careful owner’ sign around her neck.
‘Don’t cry.’ Carol’s voice softened. ‘I’m sorry I brought it up.’
‘I wasn’t sobbing, I was laughing.’
‘Well, full marks to you for putting on a brave face. But I’m worried about you, Stella. If I could get the time off, I’d fly out.’
Infuriating, forthright and bossy, but Carol always had her back. Should Stella dare mention Gino? It would cheer her friend up.
‘The thing is, Carol, you don’t have to worry. I’m seeing someone else.’
‘Already! Stella, I’m impressed! A handsome Italian?’
‘You could say so.’
‘Tell me more!’
‘He had dinner with me and my uncle last night. But look, I can’t really talk now. I’m at the shop, I’ve got to sort out the till and open up.’
‘I’m certainly not going to hold you up. But just one thing. Do you think there’s any chance I might need that hat? I’ve only got until the end of the week to take it back.’
Stella knew Carol was only joking but she couldn’t resist saying: ‘You might wear it sooner rather than later!’
She held the phone away from her ear. Carol’s excited shriek was loud enough to be heard at the oldrustico.
‘Bye, Carol.’ Stella rang off before her friend could say any more. She turned over the Open sign and began tidying around the counter, glad there was no one waiting outside. Carol’s comments had set her off daydreaming. Maybe after all this time, her girlhood dreams could come true. Domenico certainly suspected a formal relationship was on the cards. He’d quizzed Gino about his plans last night and Gino had talked about his dreams of moving back to the village and reviving his grandparents’ old olive grove. And all the time he was talking he’d looked across at Stella as if seeking her approval. She was as sure as anything that they had a future together.
They hadn’t yet discussed it but Stella had no intention of living off the little Gino would make from the farm. She had to pay her own way. It seemed obvious that Domenico couldn’t carry on running the shop by himself but there would need to be changes if she were to join him. They would need to diversify, not into cheap jewellery but into products that enhanced their current offering. She’d want to keep most of the shop as it was. The sale of saltcellars, gardening gloves and measuring jugs was their bread and butter, not to mention a valuable service to the residents. But Amy’s talk of pots and decorative ceramics had sent her imagination soaring.
Stella would make a start today, measuring all the shelf space upstairs and down. She’d need to get all her ducks in a row to get Domenico on board. She’d arrange to give Joe his ring back and get Lauren on board with her plans. And then she’d be free to pick up the pieces of the life she’d left behind the day she fled to England.
‘Buongiorno, Stella.’ Signora Togliatti let the door close behind her.
‘Buongiorno, Signora.’ Stella put down the pen she’d just picked up. ‘What can I help you with today?’
‘An iron, I think.’
Stella came out from behind the counter and set up the mini steps, knowing she’d be getting down every box for the elderly lady’s inspection. And knowing also that the signora would leave without opening her purse. For the first few days, Stella had been puzzled as to why nothing ever seemed suitable for such a regular customer. But she soon cottoned on that the dear old soul was merely coming in for a chat and that the careful examination of options and price tags was a way of preserving the signora’s pride whilst she assuaged her loneliness.
‘This is our top-of-the-range option.’ Stella opened up a cardboard box, removing a steam iron fashioned from garish lime-green plastic.
‘We didn’t have steam in the old days, just an iron with a hotplate.’
‘I expect you heated it on the stove instead of plugging it in,’ Stella said.
‘That’s right, dear. Got ever so hot, used to burn my Aldo’s shirts.’ The old woman chuckled. ‘Never grumbled though, like some men, bless his soul.’
‘It’s all different these days,’ Stella said, reboxing the iron.
‘Oh, you’re too young to talk like that. It doesn’t seem like yesterday since I saw you skipping off to school. Time flies and we’re all getting older but my Giacomo will help Domenico keep up to date.’
Stella paused, one foot on the steps. ‘Sorry? I don’t quite understand.’
‘My grandson, Giacomo. He’s away at the moment, gadding about like young people do but he’ll be starting here in September. Domenico’s promised him part time at first but after that fall of his, perhaps he will want to give him more hours. There could be a full-time job for the boy in the end and with Domenico as his boss, he’ll have no better man to learn from.’
The steps seemed to sway. Stella gripped the edge of the shelf. ‘Domenico’s not said anything to me.’
