On arrival at the lobby of Palazzo D’Eccellenza, there was no one to greet Matthew and Sarah. The lobby’s design had been intended as stylish, but all it achieved was an air of clinical sterility. Sarah’s trained eye was quick to note how the materials – black and white marble, clear glass and polished stainless steel – had been chosen for their clean look, but had not been combined thoughtfully and completely clashed.
Sarah rang the brass bell which sat on the marble counter, but no one came.
‘C’mon, let’s just go for a walk,’ suggested Matthew, reaching out to take Sarah’s free hand. In the other, she held Luca’s birthdayciambellone.
Palazzo D’Eccellenza was a single-storey property and, as Alberto had noted on their first day, it was indeed more modern than Convento delle Viole. The palazzo was a U-shaped building, which wasn’t notable from the street-level view. Behind the lobby were a set of large glass sliding doors which led to an intricately paved courtyard, at the centre of which was a large in-ground pool. A few guests were relaxing in deck chairs.
Sarah cleared her throat suggestively and her head gestured in the direction of two of the four people sprawled in the sun.
Luca and Silvia.
Luca was sound asleep in his bathers, oiled to the heavens, and Silvia sat thumbing a magazine with a cocktail by her side.
Something about seeing them there, relaxing and sunning themselves, made Matthew irate. The hold he had on Sarah’s hand tightened, and she attempted to soothe him by whispering, ‘I know. Just keep your cool.’
Matthew drew in a long calming breath. The months of tiring physical labour, sleepless nights, pain and fatigue came rushing at him. Luca and Silvia were driven by a different set of values – a belief system which preferenced personal downtime over service to others and hard work. He felt a ripple of heat rise to his face.This is not the D’Adamo way.The veins in his forearms dilated as his anger continued to build. Here they were, living like guests in the lap of luxury.
Sarah made to step forward, but Matthew held her back. He wasn’t ready.
All of a sudden, they were interrupted by the arrival of a spindly long-legged man. ‘Mi scusi,’ he asked, stone-faced. ‘E Lei sarebbe?’The man’s question was directed only to Matthew.
‘Noi,’ Matthew stressed, ‘siamoMatteoeSarah D’Adamo. Siamo qui per fare gli auguri a mio cugino,Luca.’
Hearing that they were related to Luca, the man suddenly softened. He made his way over to Luca and Silvia by the pool. Silvia, clearly unhappy about being disturbed, shrieked her disapproval before the man had a chance to explain himself.
It was Silvia who looked over first. Matthew couldn’t decide if the expression on her face was that of contempt or disappointment. Nonetheless, she was not at all happy to see them. She prodded Luca, who had begun to snore in the chair beside hers, with her now rolled-up copy ofVogue Italia.
Luca turned groggily and he was surprised to see them standing there. He had the common courtesy to go and greet them, whereas Silvia stayed put, readjusting her sunglasses and commanding the spindly long-legged man to change the angle of the umbrella shade.
‘Auguri, Luca,’ Matthew said, greeting him with the most genuine-looking smile he could manage.
Sarah and Luca shared cheek kisses and she handed him the aluminium-wrappedciambellone, still warm from the oven. ‘For you, for your birthday.’
‘Grazie, molto gentile.’ Luca accepted the parcel, but didn’t know what to do with it. There was nowhere close to set it down, so he called upon the man, who was now fanning Silvia with the very same copy ofVogue Italia, to take the cake to the kitchen.
Matthew and Sarah attempted some friendly small talk, asking how the hotel was going, how they found the experience so far. Luca answered in only short, sharp one-word responses, clearly disengaged.
Matthew called an end to their visit, using their being late for lunch service at La Viola as an excuse. Sarah called her goodbyes to Silvia, who merely grunted in return.
Once off the property, Sarah turned to Matthew and said, ‘I can’t believe he didn’t even have the common courtesy to wishyoua happy birthday.’
‘He probably forgot. Don’t worry about it.’ Matthew’s jaw ached from the prolonged clench that had lasted from their goodbyes to the street.
‘Forgot? How could he forget? The fact that you share a birthday is what got you into this mess in the first place! How self-centred are these people?’
They hopped back in their car and made their way back to La Viola for a full lunch service, room and linen changes, and preparation for dinner. There was no time to waste worrying about the frivolous and selfish managerial approach of Luca and Silvia.
Sarah and Matthew were so busy that the only words spoken before they finally collapsed into bed was Sarah wishing him a happy birthday sleep.
venticinque
Aweek later, the mercury had rounded the high-thirties for five consecutive days. La Viola was left open to air at night, allowing the gentle choral song of the cicadas to waft in on the cooler breeze from the orchard.
Sarah had been in bed for just shy of ten minutes when a noise suddenly caused her to sit upright. She strained her ear in the direction of their open windows and listened again. There it was – splashing.
It had just gone one o’clock.
Her jerky movements in bed had woken Matthew. ‘What’s wrong?’
