As she says it, it immediately gives me the feeling that they prepared the dish today just for me. Touched, I taste a spoonful of the creamy soup, apparently made from beans, cabbage, and loads of vegetables.
A burst of flavors fills my mouth. I taste thyme and marjoram, as well as robust notes of onions and garlic. The tomato base has a pleasant sweetness.
"It tastes fantastic," I say convincingly, bringing a satisfied smile to Alessia's face. "You're a great cook."
"She has to be," Camilla says, handing me the bread basket and gesturing to her sister. "She's studying biochemistry in Rome," she says with such pride that my heart tightens momentarily. "And cooking is just chemistry, too."
I look at Alessia in amazement. "You don't live here?"
Earlier, she seemed as though she did. And even what Camilla just said about the value of family didn't make me doubt it.
Alessia dips a piece of white bread into the soup and takes a bite. "I moved out almost four years ago. But I come to visit whenever I can." She shoots a furtive glance at her sister.
What does that mean? Do they assure each other that they will always be there for one another? Or is it more of an exchange of secretive information that they want to keep from me?
I'm sure I'm just imagining these strange vibrations, but I still feel compelled to ask a few questions. Florian wants to know if the Olivettas are trustworthy. He'll want evidence. Unfortunately.
"Where is Vico today?" Of course, it's not the most important topic, but it's the only question that's been lingering in my mind all along.
Again, the sisters look at each other. "He had to work," Camilla shrugs, hastily turning her attention back to her soup.
"Does he live here with you?" I ask further, even though it's not really important.
Shaking her head, she reaches for her glass of water. "He wouldn't be able to stand that for a moment." Her grin doesn't match the turmoil in her eyes.
She seems sad. Why? "Why is he so…"
"Enough about us. Tell us what you want to visit while you're here." It's Alessia who interrupted me mid-sentence and now looks at me expectantly with her sharp eyes.
Perhaps she thinks it's a good topic, but it's not. The checklist is endless, and Vico's behavior this afternoon made it clear to me that I'll have to tackle it alone. He probably knew nothing about joint excursions and expert assessments, even though Florian assured me that someone would take care of me and all my questions.
While we enjoy the main course - a delicious fresh dish of squid and chard - I list the points on the list that I can vaguely remember. I'm embarrassed that I've gone through the documents a hundred times and still can't remember everything. Occasionally, I have to search for the appropriate Italian terms, but the longer I speak, the more fluid it becomes.
"Can you recommend any other highlights?" I ask finally and lean back in my chair with a full stomach. The meal was wonderful.
Pietro mops up the last of the sauce with bread. "You have the best tour guide by your side. Vico will show you everything worth seeing."
Ah, so he did know about the arrangement after all? Still, he dismissed me with a quick tour. Did my daydreaming in the living room shock him so much that he wanted nothing to do with me anymore?
His reasons should not matter to me, yet the thought makes me sad. "I'm afraid he won't. He just gave me a travel guide, and then he was gone."
"He didn't do that!" Camilla slams her hand onto the table with an incredulous expression, causing the plates to rattle. "He can't just…" Tears fill her eyes out of nowhere.
Alessia swallows hard too, reaching for her pregnant sister's forearm. "Calm down. Everything will be fine," she says in an imploring tone. "I'll take care of it."
Again, the two exchange an intense look. Again, I don't know what it means.
It's Pietro who saves the situation by jumping up from his chair. "We have Schiacciata dolce," he announces on his way to the kitchen.
Until he returns to the table with the generously fig-topped yeast cake, I dare not ask any more questions. It seems as if there are no innocuous topics here. As if in the Olivetta family, hidden corners and sad spots are everywhere, making them nearly impossible to avoid.
"We still know nothing personal about you. Will you tell us something?" Camilla asks me as the deliciously scented dessert, filled with pine nuts, is placed in front of me.
Even though I'd rather not think about it, I share details about the inn and our guests.
Work. Garden. Sleep. Cleaning.
There's not much else in my life, as I'm responsible for everything except paperwork. The Olivettas smile kindly at me, asking numerous questions, while I secretly glance at the door, hoping Vico might still show up.
