‘Bellissima,’ Emanuela said, enraptured as they began their tour of the property in the front courtyard. ‘The view is really quite spectacular. One cannot help but be almost swept across the valley on that view.’ Emanuela took a few shots on her phone, before scribbling down some notes. ‘We could get a drone down here to capture some aerial footage for the promotional material. The flyover would be extremely powerful . . .’
Matthew squeezed Sarah’s hand as they invited Emanuela down the stairs to the next garden level, and carefully whispered, ‘You are a genius.’
Sarah and Matthew, with Margherita’s help, had prepared for both the tour and presentation. Sarah would do what she did best: command the floor with all information about the event, styling, social media and logistics. Matthew would speak to the legal and business matters. And Margherita would provide the local insight andcomuneknowledge needed to position the festival beyond the framework of Fiorellino’s immediate jurisdiction. Saverio, they hoped, was completely in the dark.
‘I very much like what I see here.’ Emanuela dropped her thick Audrey Hepburn inBreakfast at Tiffany’s-esque sunglasses back to her nose. ‘Please, walk me through the Sagra dell’Umbria.’
Inch by inch, the trio wove Emanuela through the entire estate. Sarah explained how they planned to utilise the front and rear courtyards as music, stage and dance spaces, the three levels of garden as space for stallholders and displays, and the orchard and vineyard spaces could be transformed into alfresco pockets for picnics and private dining.
Sarah assured Emanuela that not all the festival would take place outdoors. The downstairs hallway of the villa would be rearranged to allow an appropriate space for artists and artisans to display their wares, and they even had provision for a stage area where demonstrations could take place. TheDispensa delle Violewould be open and stocked with extra merchandise from providers who were not able to attend but wished to contribute.
In terms of bathrooms, they would arrange for the hire of portaloos. They had also factored in the November weather and would hire marquees for the three levels of garden; this would not only provide protection from the elements, but would help divide and provide physical structure to the vast openness of the grounds.
Emanuela was suitably impressed. After a two-hour discussion over numerous coffees and cakes, she eventually said, ‘I think it is a wonderful idea, and potentially very culture-changing for Umbria. I will see that it gets complete backing and support from my firm as we make a case for it higher up the chain.’ She gestured skyward with a perfectly manicured finger. She smiled, the razor-sharp line of her red-tinged lips curling. ‘You may just be a part of history; history made here, in Fiorellino sul Monte of all places.’
Following Emanuela’s departure – and the necessary pre-emptive celebrations as a trio, which involved much hugging and laughter – Margherita also headed home, leaving Matthew and Sarah to continue to tend to their guests and help Angelo prepare for the dinner service.
They were buoyed with a new energy and fresh confidence. It had been Sarah’s idea, but the three of them had transformed that into a potential reality. They had sold themselves well: completely professional, knowledgeable and experienced in their respective fields, and enthusiastic and passionate about promoting Umbria and its culture.
What they were not expecting later that evening was Saverio. Unannounced and very much unwanted, he strode through the hallway as Matthew, Sarah, Angelo and their guests sat down to dinner.
Matthew had just brought his fork to his mouth when Angelo’s raised eyebrows and a discreet nod of the head drew his attention to their right. The pit of his stomach opened and a sudden rush of frustration and fury threatened to shatter his cool and collected façade.
‘Sindaco.’
‘Buonasera a tutti.’ Aware of the shared company, Saverio fixed a manufactured smile and proceeded with caution. ‘Signor D’Adamo, I was hoping to have a word . . . or two . . . with you.’
‘Of course. If you will excuse me for a moment,’ he said to their guests.
Sarah’s eyes seemed to shrink behind her worry, and she too got to her feet to join him.
‘No. No. That won’t be necessary,’ Saverio waved dismissively in Sarah’s direction.
‘Whatever you need to say to me,Sindaco, you can also share with my wife.’ Now stood two feet in front of Saverio, Matthew sent a clear message – he and Sarah were an inseparable team.
They lead Saverio outside to the front courtyard, making sure to securely close the door behind him.
Saverio fired first. ‘It has come to my attention that you are planning a festival of sorts here on the estate.’ His tone dropped into steep condescension. ‘A celebration of local culture? A party? Is this correct?’
Sarah straightened. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. We are planning it as we speak. Are you interested in purchasing tickets?’
Matthew did his best to stifle the laugh that built behind his cheeks.
‘No.’ His narrow dark eyes looked menacing in the low light. ‘I came to remind you of your civic duty to the jurisdiction of Fiorellino.Myjurisdiction.’
Matthew sighed. ‘What is it this time, Saverio?’
‘Sindaco,’ he corrected sternly.
Matthew drew a breath. ‘Our plans are tentative and are not in breach of yourjurisdiction. Of that I can assure you. I am carefully presiding over that aspect of the organisation myself.’
Saverio’s head twitched sharply as he looked between them. ‘See to it that it stays that way. And remember,’ he lowered his voice and directed his comment squarely at Matthew, ‘the people of Fiorellino don’t take kindly to change.’
‘The people, Saverio, or you?’ Sarah demanded.
Saverio suddenly lunged forward, just inches from Sarah’s face. ‘Don’t think I don’t know that Margherita Innocenti is helping you. Your littlefriend.’
‘Step back,’ Matthew growled.
