Donatella interrupts us with a light knock and enters with a tray. “Passionflower tea for Miss Bingley, with house honey.”
“Thanks, pour me a cup. No honey,” she replies without even looking at her. “Please, Charles! Think about it—what’s the point of being in a relationship with someone who lives in Chianti?”
“It actually won’t be long distance. We talked about it. She’s not particularly fond of Belvedere either and would love to broaden her horizons; at the end of the year, she’ll come be with me in London.”
“There you have it.” I stop him, after Donatella has left us. “You may be perfectly over the moon, but are you sure she isn’t with you because you’re a walking, all-inclusive one-way ticket to London?”
Okay, maybe I’m coming across as an asshole, but Bingley is soft as they come, and a smart woman could easily eviscerate him. I’m his best friend. It’s my job to warn him about these things.
“He’s right,” Caroline echoes. “For a broke country beautician, you’re practically a diamond mine in South Africa.”
“You two see bad intentions everywhere,” he replies, leaning on the edge of the billiard table. “Saturday night, we’re having a reunion dinnerwith friends from when we were kids. Watch us together, and you’ll see Giada and I are serious.”
Caroline rolls her eyes. “Sounds like torture, but I’m happy to sacrifice myself for the cause.”
“It won’t be a sacrifice and there is no cause,” he replies.
“Maybe, but someone could make eyes at you over a petrol pump and come away with something. You’re also not bad-looking; I’m sure it wasn’t a stretch for her to indulge herself,” insists Caroline, much more ruthless than I would ever dare to be.
Although, if the rumors are true, Giada has extended her graces to just about everyone, though I won’t say this to Bingley.
“Look”—I intervene to calm things down but still try to keep some leverage—“we may be wrong, but just in case we’re not, why don’t you slow it down a little?” I suggest. “Now it’s intense, you’re seeing each other all day, every day, maybe it seems bigger than it is. You have a few trips over the next few weeks. Put some space and time between you and Giada and see if anything changes. You always throw yourself into these things from the high dive, holding your breath until you bottom out. Listen to me: Come to the surface and get some air. Maybe you’ll realize that what you mistook for an ocean is just a kiddie pool.” I lean over the table and take aim. “Purple in the corner pocket.”
Bingley, however, puts the cue back in its brass holder with an annoyed huff. “You two can play, I’m done,” he snaps. But first, he stops in the doorway and points his finger at me. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be feeling so superior. You have your own problems to solve.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, angrily.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Michael. You’re too smart not to have noticed.”
28
Elisa
Linda and I are driving back from the village, where we picked up some things at the market for her pizza night and our reunion dinner. It’s a big day at Le Giuggiole.
Tonight I’ll be cooking for everyone. I haven’t suddenly come down with a case of Belvedere tradwife syndrome, but I need to keep my hands busy to avoid thinking about what happened in the cellar.
Yesterday I was in the vineyard all day, but today I have no escape.
“How many of you are there tonight?” I ask Linda.
“Six.”
“Who did you invite?” I press, in an attempt to extend the conversation.
“Alice and Valentina Pini, Laura Bolli, Enrico Quinti, and Tommaso Ghirardi,” she says the final two names quietly, almost inaudibly, though it doesn’t help that the old Punto I drive has a punctured muffler and you almost have to scream to hear over it.
“Boys?” I exclaim, petrified.
“Yeah. So what?”
“We didn’t talk about boys the other day,” I protest.
“I told you I was inviting classmates. I never said if they were boys or girls.”
I guess I took that one as a given. “So, why on earth did you choose them?” I’m afraid to ask, but I have to.
“Valentina likes Enrico and would only come if he was there, but Enrico doesn’t go anywhere without Tommaso, and Alice always goes out with her sister,” she replies concisely. Smooth as butter, without hesitation.
