“Euros?”
“No, pizzas. Of course, euros, treasure,” she confirms nonchalantly.
“But, Donatella, if you’re a millionaire, why do you work as a maid? I mean ... you could have maids!”
“Rich people’s lives are so boring. I need to do something; otherwise, I get depressed. And it keeps me busy enough that I can complain about the stress. Complaining is so liberating, don’t you think?”
“I’d like to try.”
“I envy your loan. It’s going to push you to wake up in the morning and use your head to find a way to pay it off. It’s very stimulating.”
“You know, Donatella, you always make me see things from a different perspective.”
“Helmut used to tell me that too,” she sighs nostalgically.
“One of your husbands?”
“No, joy. Helmut Newton. I was his muse.”
I blink in disbelief. “The nude photographer?”
“He liked how the shadows danced on my skin. It wasn’t a sexual relationship, mind you. He was always very professional with me. Oh, they’re calling me, hon. I’ll wait for you when I’m done so we can go back together.” And without waiting for my response, she flits into the financial advisory cubicle.
The director examines my request, scratching his chin. He and my father knew each other, so I hope he spares me some leniency in his memory.
“It’s a pretty substantial sum,” he observes.
“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You’d be running the company?” he asks with a hint of skepticism.
“I’ve already been running it for several years now.” I point to the papers in front of him. “Those figures are the result of my management.”
“I see.”
“So . . . ?”
“It’s unlikely the bank will approve you. Not impossible, but difficult.”
“But you are the bank.”
“For a loan this big, I have to go through the central office. Even if the business plan is convincing, we’ll need something more concrete than that.”
“More concrete than that?” I ask, terrified.
“Let’s be clear, Elisa, no one lends money to people who don’t have money. You need some sort of collateral. But you don’t have any, you don’t own properties, you don’t have an income, and so you can’t close the deal.” He shakes his head, as if to let me know he’s serious. “Are you sure your father would have wanted you to get into this mess?”
“It’s not a mess, and he lived for that vineyard. He would be proud as ever if it were mine.”
“I would like to say yes, but ...”
“Don’t beat around the bush, please.”
“Okay. Your business proposal is beautiful, but beauty isn’t everything. It’s not a no; it’s a maybe.”
“And what does this ‘maybe’ depend on?”
“I need to see customer purchase orders. If we can track the buyers of your products, we can prove the company is solvent.”
