“Sure, perfect entrance,” he blurts. “‘Good evening, everyone. I’m here to sell the estate for Charles, and you’re all going to end up under a bridge. Can you show me to my room now?’”
“Brutal but honest.”
“What did you expect? That Charles would be jumping for joy at the idea of inheriting a decrepit old villa with crumbling facilities, holes in the gutters, mold in the attic, a broken TV antenna, peeling plaster, no Internet ...?”
“Why sell it if it’s so disgusting? Better to raze everything to the ground, right?”
“Let’s not exaggerate. The property has potential, but Charles and Caroline are not interested, so the fact that the estate needs so much maintenance is just an incentive to pass the ball to a new owner.”
“Pass the ball?” I repeat astonished. “Me, my mother, and Donatella are not balls to be passed.”
“It’s a figure of speech, Elisa!”
“It’s a figure of speech that sucks, as if we’ve been included in the negotiation like furniture. Out of curiosity, how did you plan to sell to us? By weight? By years of seniority? Or as a lump sum?” I provoke him.
“Elisa, my God, no one ever proposed anything of the kind. You’re free to go elsewhere whenever you want.”
“Sure. The world is full of vineyards waiting just for me! Not to mention Donatella and Mamma—one is sixty-five and the other sixty-three. Do you think there’s a line out the door waiting to hire them?”
“So stay. What do you want me to tell you?” he replies. “Listen, Elisa, I know you think it’s crazy that someone doesn’t love this place enough to move here right away, but Charles has a different life.Ihave a different life, and if I were him, I’d do the same without thinking twice.”
“Of course, you only care about money.”
“I’m a businessman. I do business, whether you like it or not. Which includes the sale of this property, since my best friend knows nothing about real estate. I won’t lie and tell him it’s a good investment just because you don’t want to lose your vineyard.”
“All right. I’ll try to speak in a language a businessman understands.” I change strategy. “When you make investments, what do you base your investments on?”
“Market prices, stock trends . . .”
“Numbers,” I summarize.
“They have meaning.”
“Let me give you some numbers. Let’s start with five hundred and four.”
“Five hundred and four, what?”
“The number of different types of vines grown in Italy; in France they have just two hundred and seventy-eight. We also have five hundred and thirty-three varieties of olives. Spain, which is the second largest producer in Europe, has seventy. We produce two hundred and eighty-two DOP and IGP specialties recognized at the EC level, and we hold the green record in Europe with almost fifty thousand organic farms, including Le Giuggiole. We’re small, yes, but here we are. Owning an agri-food company in the most sought-after country in the world is an immense privilege. ‘Made in Italy’ is a brand whose value I’m sure you know well, businessman that you claim to be. Le Giuggiole is not just a crumbling old villa. It’s an investment.” I don’t know if I’m terribly convincing, but I will argue my position as long as I can breathe.
“It’s just not the kind of investment I know how to manage, you know?”
“At least now you have something to reflect on.”
“There’s another thing I’m reflecting on.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, curiously and with a hint of hope. Maybe it’s not a done deal after all.
“Why didn’t you tell me Linda’s your daughter?”
Oh shit!
17
Michael
Elisa gasps in surprise. That was the last thing she was expecting.
“You . . . how . . . who . . . ?” she stammers, swallowing dryly.
