Perhaps it’s because this is where my core memories were formed.
We spent summers running wild, climbing trees, building driftwood forts, and inspecting tidal pools for treasures. During rainstorms, we’d sneak into the abandoned lighthouse and share scary stories by candlelight. And for years, we’d roam the woods in search of the black stag, leaving offerings for her amongst the ancient trees. There isn’t a square inch of this island that doesn’t evoke vivid memories, and almost every one of them features Angelo Vitale.
As he steps onto the dock and pauses to take in the familiar landscape, the sight splits my chest wide open. The day he went to prison, I felt like a part of me died. But it wasn’t just me. It was this place. The magic I’d always known had somehow…faded. It was because the magic didn’t just belong to the island—it was him.
This reunion has been years in the making, and as I try to imagine it through his eyes, I can’t help but feel a shift in the air. I know he’s been back here recently, in the dark of night, when he’d slip into my room. But this time is different.
This time, he’s finally home.
None of us move. I can’t be sure anyone even draws a breath. We all wait, giving Angelo this moment that’s long overdue. Only once he opens the door to the SUV and helps me inside do I finally close my eyes and allow myself to breathe.
Nicky takes the driver’s seat, navigating us up the winding road that carves across the island. Angelo remains quiet as he takes in the passing scenery, so I do the same. When we reach theporte-cochère, my heart rate quickens. With a nod from the guard on duty, we’re buzzed in—and the wrought-iron gates, emblazoned with the Vitale family crest, swing open.
As we drive through, I reach over and gently squeeze my husband’s hand. “Welcome home, Angelo.”
He meets my gaze, and for one fleeting heartbeat, he lifts my hand to his lips. “Welcome home, Mrs. Vitale.”
Those words reach deep into the broken part of me and make me whole again, if only for a moment.
We roll down the Italian-cypress-lined driveway, passing by familiar surroundings.Tenuta del Cervo Nero—The Black Stag Estate—boasts a fairy tale landscape with a hedge maze, an olive orchard, and fig trees. But my favorite refuge will always be the legacy garden where my mother spent so much of her time.
The heart of the estate is the Mediterranean-style villa reminiscent of apalazzo. It was built from Italian-imported stone when the Vitales settled on the island, and it has held up beautifully over the years. My favorite features are the columns wrapped in creeping ivy and terraces with Roman-style arches and marble balustrades. At the center of it all is an open-air courtyard that connects all six wings of the estate. It was designed to be a multi-generational home—timeless with a touch of old-world elegance.
Over the years, I’ve spent plenty of time on the estate, dancing in the ballroom, swimming in the pool, and getting lost in the maze. Some of my best memories were made right here, tending to the garden with my mother, watching the sun set over the water with Angelo, and making Sunday sauce with Nonna. It’s always been my safe space.
Inside, the villa offers every amenity one could ever need, including an extensive family gathering space, a ballroom, a library, an in-home spa, and a gentleman’s den. Each wing contains one grand suite and five additional rooms, along with a private lounge and kitchen. Throughout the home, west-facing windows offer dramatic views and sun-drenched afternoons. In the winter, fireplaces keep the space cozy, offsetting the months of rainy days.
This place isn’t just beautiful. It’s historic. There are countless memories on these grounds. But over the past six years, a shadow has descended over the estate, casting everything in darkness with one tragic loss after another. Now, it’s up to Angelo and his siblings to breathe new life into the home, establishing the Vitale legacy for many generations to come.
An overwhelming sense of emotion swells in my throat as I sneak another glance at him. So many times, I’ve imagined him as a father. There was never a question in my mind that he would be a good one.
He catches me staring, and it’s impossible to miss the shadow flickering across his features. This homecoming is yet another reminder of everything that was taken from him. I, too, am a reminder, whether I like it or not.
We come to a stop on the circular drive with the marble fountain bubbling in the center, and Angelo glances out the window. A grand staircase, made of polished limestone, dominates the face of the villa—a centerpiece for dramatic entrances. Or, in this case, arrivals. Nonna Vitale, Romeo, Michele, Raffaele, Cristiano, and Mariella have all gathered for the occasion.
“Are you ready?” Angelo asks.
“As I’ll ever be.” I force a smile.
Nicky opens the door for us, and Angelo exits first, taking my hand as he helps me out of the car.
Before we even have a chance to draw a breath, Nonna Vitale praises the heavens above as she comes to greet us.
“Finalmente sei tornato, tesoro mio.”
She gives us both a kiss on each cheek before she cradles Angelo’s face in her hands. She looks at him with such tenderness and adoration, and I can’t help but get a little choked up. I’m glad when I glance at Mariella, I see I’m not the onlyone. There are also tears in her eyes as she hugs her brother and welcomes him home.
The men are stoic as they come to greet their brother, but beneath their armor, I can see their relief to have him back.
Once everyone has said hello, Nonna doesn’t waste any time.
“Come, come. You must be hungry,” she says.
Everyone laughs because it goes without saying—food is how Nonna expresses her love.
“She’s been waiting six years to feed you,” Mariella remarks.
Nonna leads the way up the staircase adorned with massive urns and sculpted topiaries. It’s a long ascent to the portico, but Nonna is surprisingly agile for her age. We pass through the Corinthian columns and into the open-air courtyard. This is one of the central gathering spaces for the family over the summer, and much like the rest of the exterior, it pays tribute to the Vitales’ Italian roots. Two long colonnades of dramatic arched glass frame each side of the courtyard, and at the center of it all is a fire feature, accompanied by plenty of plush white seating. Over the years, this area has been the stage for many of the gatherings hosted by the Vitale patriarch.
