“I was up for a bit last night reading about it online. Had trouble sleeping.”
“Any particular reason you had trouble sleeping last night?”
“Not one you’d be interested in.” He crushed his empty cup.
I sighed as I sipped the last of my coffee. “Any guesses on how long we’ll be here?”
“No clue. Vincehasn’t given me any guidance on that.”
“Well, just for the record…” I held up my empty cup in a salute. “I’m in no rush to head back.”
“This from someone who didn’t even want to get on the plane.” Wes laughed.
I waved that away. “That was mostly defiance over my father controlling my life. But I’d also forgotten how peaceful it is here. Seriously, why would anyone choose to live where we do when you can live likethisevery day?”
“Money?” He chuckled. “It’s a little expensive for most people to just take off and live someplace like this. Unless you can find work here, I suppose.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Or in my case…” he continued. “I can’t live where I want because I’m indebted to a mobster for life. I just happened to get lucky when he sent us here.”
“Well, I’m also bound to him for life. So we have that in common.” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll have a job to go back to in California. I’m missing so much work being here.”
“Can’t you do some of it remotely? I mean, I would think you can write screenplays from anywhere.”
“I can, but I’m constantly getting called into meetings, and in Hollywood, they like to do everything in person over expensive coffee, so I can only get by for so long being MIA.”
“I hear you…”
We eventually got back on our bikes and returned to the house. I was ready for an afternoon nap when there was a knock at the door.
Wes’s body immediately went rigid. We should’ve been safe here, but it was a bit jarring since we weren’t expecting anyone; we knew no one here.
Wes headed to the door and cautiously opened it. “Can I help you?” he asked.
A woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun stood at the threshold. She held a plate of something. “Ah, you are American. I suspected that,” she said in an Italian accent.
“And you are?” he asked.
“I’m your neighbor, Natalia Romano.”
She seemed safe enough, so I stepped forward and introduced myself.
“I’m Juliette.” I turned to him. “And this is Wes.”
“Are you visiting, or have you moved here?”
“Visiting.” I smiled. “Well, it’s a bit longer than a quick visit, but not permanent, either.”
“An extended stay,” Wes chimed in.
“Well, I wanted to welcome you.” She set the plate on the entry table. “I brought you some bread I baked. Our houses are so close together, it felt wrong not to stop by. There’s rarely anyone here. I know the woman who takes care of the property for the owners, and she mostly just keeps the place clean.”
“Thank you so much for the bread. That’s very kind,” I said. “How long have you lived in the house next door?”
“Only a year. The house belonged to my grandmother. My mother inherited it after Nonna died, and I bought it from Mama. My husband, Mario, owns one of the shops here in the town.”
“Oh, we’d love to visit his store.” I beamed, deciding to keep my own grandmother story private. “What does your husband sell?”
