“Ah, how beautiful!” Allegra exclaims, applauding. “I’d love to try it. Sebastian was just telling us how delicious it was.”
“I’m sure he was just being kind.”
“Who, him?” his girlfriend giggles. “He finds something terrible to say about everything. If he speaks well about something, you know he’s being sincere. And not only that, last week we had a journalist over for dinner fromWine Spectator, who went crazy when she tasted your Chianti Riserva.”
Okay, that explains a lot. I have Foliero to thank for thinking so fast.
We take our seats at the table, and, to my great relief, dinner is filled with casual chatter, laughter, and good humor. The boys entertain us with tragicomic anecdotes from university, then Jemma takes center stage with the story of her and Ashford’s wedding, a strange tale involving his hallucinating mother, a peyote cake, and the queen. They ask me about myself and my work and are interested in the answers, although after a few too many drinks, I’m no longer so sure I’m expressing myself in proper English.
After we eat, the boys compete at pinball, and I stay with the girls, picking at dessert leftovers around the kitchen island.
“So you’re trying to buy Charles’s estate in Tuscany?” Jemma asks me.
“Yes, but the bank is still in the process of approving the loan ...”
“Do you have any photos with you?” Allegra asks me. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I work in luxury real estate, and this is exactly the kind of property we deal with. We actually manage a Renaissance palace right outside Florence.”
I open the gallery on my phone and show her the images. “Here it is.”
“How wonderful!” all three exclaim, gathered around a photo of a golden sunset over the vineyard.
“I know, that’s why I don’t want it to become a golf club,” I comment bitterly. “No offense, if any of you play golf.”
“I play tennis,” replies Allegra.
“I am a champion of skipping ... the gym,” Charlotte intervenes.
“I argue with my mother-in-law,” says Jemma. “That burns a lot of calories.”
“You said that, in addition to the winery, you want to transform the villa into a farmhouse, right?”
“Yes, but high end,” I specify. “It is a seventeenth-century villa, after all. Too bad it costs a fortune.”
“I could manage the project,” Charlotte says, perking up as if she’d received an electric shock.
“You?”
“I develop hotels for the Bloom Group, and I specialize in restorations. The company also has a foundation for the protection of cultural heritage, and I could include the villa project among my pro bono commitments. You’ll still have to pay for the work itself, but I can manage the project and the construction site without any issues.”
“Seriously? Are you sure?”
“And I can give you a cost-benefit plan,” adds Allegra.
“I was a make-up artist,” Jemma chimes in. “But I can promote you. Aristocratic guests are great for marketing ... In fact, I’ll start right away.” She takes my cell phone and sends herself the photos.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sending them to my best friend. Cécile and Harring are getting married next year, and they haven’t chosen a venue yet.”
“Are you saying they should get married at Le Giuggiole?” Maybe I didn’t quite understand her.
“Of course!”
“But ...” I want to stop her, but I don’t know how.
“Nobuts.”
“Forget it,” Allegra convinces me. “When Jemma gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.”
