“Well... he didn’t like us being too far away in case something happened,” she continues, looking down at our hands. “So our trips were always short. The last long one we took together was to Rio de Janeiro when Alicia was eight. After that, whenever it was just me and the kids, we never went far either.”
I nod, understanding. “And now? Do you plan to travel more like this?”
She grins. “Definitely. I want to keep traveling with the kids... but I also hope to do more trips just for me.”
Or with me,I think. But I don’t say it out loud.
I keep holding her hand as she turns back to the view outside.
It isn’t long before we’re descending into Pisa and making our way down the steps of the jet. The moment I step out behind Cecilia, what I see makes me mutter under my breath,“Davvero una meraviglia.”[XLIV]
“What is it?” she asks, stopping halfway down the staircase.
I gesture toward the Mercedes-Benz V-Class parked nearby, where two of my cousins and one very amused husband are already waiting for us. “My cousins Cesare and Pietro, and Pietro’s husband, Angelo,” I explain. “They’re the ones waving like lunatics beside the van.”
“Oh,” she murmurs, her smile starting to betray her.
We continue down the steps, and they only wave harder. I had asked Mario, one of the villa’s staff, to come pick us up. But ofcourse... they showed up instead. I suppose I should be grateful that only the three of them came, and not the entire family.
Cesare is the first to reach us, arms thrown wide.
“Benvenuta, Cecily!” he says, pulling her into a hug.
Cecilia laughs, a little shy, but returns it easily. Pietro and Angelo follow right after, greeting her with just as much excitement.
“You’re lucky,” Cesare says at my side. “I convinced half the family to stay behind.”
Exactly what I was afraid of.
I hear Cecilia speak before I even manage to.“È... un grande piacere conoscervi...”[XLV] she says carefully, then smiles when my cousins and Angelo congratulate her on the effort.
Angelo turns to me with a grin and says in Italian, “She’s almost one of us, Alex.”
I smile without holding back. “We’ll make sure she leaves here nearly fluent by the end of these two weeks.”
Cecilia looks at me and gives me one of those smiles that lights up her entire face. I take her hand and lead her toward the car.
“Does all this land belong to your family?” Cecilia asks, her eyes fixed on the landscape rushing past the window.
“Sì,” I reply. “It’s been in my family for generations.”
I point toward the yellow villa we’re approaching. “That’s where my grandmother lives, along with a few others. Some of the family stay in houses scattered across the estate, and others live in nearby villages.”
Then I gesture toward the white house crowning the hill, all glass and light. “That one’s mine. I built it two years ago, when I started spending more time in Pisa.”
After my grandfather fell ill, I wanted to be closer to him, and to Nonna. The house that had once belonged to my father stood on that same spot, but it had grown old with time. And I wanted something different, more modern and open, with more comfort and life in it.
So I worked closely with one of the architects at Santoro Marmo to give form to what had been living in my mind.
Over the last two years, I’ve been spending less and less time in Milan, and more time here, especially since Nonno died last year.
Cecilia’s gaze drifts to my house, and she squeezes my hand, the one she hasn’t let go of since we got in the car.
When we come to a stop, I step out first and help her down. She smooths her light blue blouse and adjusts her high-waisted beige trousers. As she walks, the fabric moves easily around her legs, brushing her caramel-colored flats.
“You’re as beautiful as ever,” I say, not hiding how I feel.
She looks up at me... and smiles.
