Stella chugged back half a glass in one go.
‘I forgot all about it!’ she exclaimed once she’d recovered. ‘What a fool! I walked past it on my first day here but I haven’t been back that way… Of course, why didn’t I think? The For Sale sign – is it still in the window?’
‘It was yesterday.’
‘We’ve got to go there!’ Stella pushed back her chair.
‘What’s the rush? The place has been closed up for years. There’s still a poster in the window advertising some festa from 2019.’ Marta tore a piece off herfocaccia dolce, popping the sweetened bread into her mouth.
‘But don’t you see?’ Stella was almost shaking with excitement. ‘It’s perfect!’
‘Stella! What are you wittering on about?’ Marta said.
‘I know!’ Amy said. ‘It’s where you could sell the olive oil you and Gino will produce, and the herbs and whatever else. It’s not too big and it could be a bargain if it’s been sitting on the market for years.’
Stella’s excitement ebbed away as quickly as it had come. ‘It’s no use. I’ve only got a few months’ redundancy money and it will need doing up. I won’t have nearly enough.’
‘You could rent out your house back home or even sell it,’ Marta said. ‘Come on. We’ll go and take a proper look at it.’
‘There’s no harm in looking, is there?’ Amy said.
‘Okay, you’ve convinced me.’ Did she really have a chance?
* * *
The smeared windows, broken step and old newspapers strewn across the floor of Signora Togliatti’s old shop didn’t matter. Stella could visualise a fresh white interior, a shiny counter, a clutch of olives painted on a sign over the door. She stood in the street, heart racing, feeling that she could hardly breathe.
‘Dream, Stella. Tell me what you see,’ Marta said.
‘Rows of bottles of home-grown olive oil. Not just litres and half litres for local customers but small quantities that passing tourists could pop in their bags and take home.’
‘What else would they buy?’ Marta stretched out her arms, seemingly measuring the width of the window with her hands.
‘Olive tapenade to smear on crostini, dried herbs in little bags…’
Marta took out her phone. She started to punch in some numbers. ‘I’m ringing them. Let’s find out what they want for it.’
Stella opened her mouth to protest.
‘You might as well know. What harm can it do?’
Stella’s stomach twisted. This was when her dream died. But she said: ‘Sure, I may as well know.’
Amy’s face was tense. ‘I’ve got my fingers crossed so tightly for you.’
They both lapsed into silence, watching Marta march up and down, the phone clamped to her ear. Finally, she wandered back towards them, still talking. She handed the phone to Stella.
Stella took the phone. ‘Sorry. Could you say that again?’
The woman at the end of the line repeated the asking price. A price that made Stella want to squeal and shout and jump and fling her arms up in the air.
‘So, are you interested?’
She tried to keep her voice steady. ‘Yes. Yes, I am. Very interested.’
The call finished. Stella held the phone, knowing she was staring at it as if she’d never seen one before.
‘Brava!Brava!’ Marta kissed her.
