Chapter 13
Hanna
The day began with a throbbing headache and a shrill ringing in my ears. When Vico came to pick me up late in the morning, I couldn't fathom stepping into the glaring sunlight. Even the darkest pair of sunglasses wouldn't have saved me from the burning pain in my head.
Vico had no issue with me canceling our plans. On the contrary, he even asked if there was anything he could do to help, and his gaze seemed strangely intense. As much as a part of me wanted to accept his offer, my headaches only respond to my medication.
Now, in the afternoon, the pills are finally taking effect. With the intimidatingly long checklist in hand and sunglasses perched on my nose, I make my way to the shaded seating area of the estate. The air is pleasantly warm, carrying the scent of grass and a wild mix of flowers. I cautiously test the stability of the wrought-iron chair before sitting down and place Florian's notes on my lap.
Yesterday, I didn't check off any of the items on the list. At least I contacted the craftsmen earlier. I forgot to mark the checkboxes, so I do that now. I manage to make just threemeasly ticks. Of course, I'm well aware that it's not enough. I need to work faster, even if I have no desire to do so and no one to accompany me. Vico said he'll handle a client's project first and then go on to do canyoning.
Should I really be worried about him recklessly diving into the torrents?
I shouldn't dwell on it. He should do whatever he wants.
With all the concentration I can muster, I go through the checklist. I shouldn't drive with my condition, so the only option is to visit Collina da sogno. It's a fifteen-minute walk to the village center. There, as noted by Florian, I'll check out the local establishments and see if there are any charming shops for tourists to browse. It sounds like a suitable excursion for the last hours of the day, so I pack my backpack and set off.
Along the way, I can't get enough of the surroundings. The landscape in Tuscany is characterized by rugged cliffs and pointed firs. It's rough and wild. But here, gentle beauty dominates the panorama. The oaks and chestnut trees sway gracefully in the wind. The unspoiled nature is intermittently interrupted by wheat fields and olive groves. Spring is already nearing its end here, and soon, lavender and poppies will open their intensely colorful blooms, enriching the green world with their splashes of color.
I take deep breaths, one after the other, allowing the idyllic surroundings to wash over me. Still, I don't stop, afraid to get lost in daydreams and forget my mission. Besides, the village is already in sight. The bright terracotta roofs and ancient stone facades glisten in the afternoon sun.
Shortly after, I leisurely stroll through the historic village center. A cobbled square with a fountain adorns the heart of the village. There are indeed several small shops here, their facades overgrown with wild vines and ivy. In front of the café, wrought-iron chairs and tables with stone mosaic tops stand invitingly.Everywhere, I discover charming details—the rustic wine barrel converted into a high table, the ground cover with tiny white flowers peeping through the cracks between the cobblestones.
This place looks like something out of a fairy tale—enchanted and beautiful.
Inevitably, I imagine what it would be like to explore the village with Vico. I'm sure he could tell me a lot about its history and inhabitants. Or about himself. And his life.
Wait a minute, what am I thinking?
Startled by my strange thoughts, I pause at a specialty shop and focus on its display window. Bottles of olive oil, jars of pickled olives, pasta, pesto, and honey are lovingly arranged on upturned wooden crates. Italian pop music drifts out from the open door. The shop is so inviting that I want to step inside.
A petite elderly lady nods at me friendly from behind the counter. "Ciao, Signora. Come sono?"
"Very well," I respond to her inquiry about my well-being in Italian, and at that moment, I realize that my headache has completely vanished. "And how are you?"
Her smile reveals a gap between her upper front teeth. "On such a wonderful day, I'm always happy," she says with exuberance. "May I show you something, or would you like to look around on your own?"
I would love to browse this store for hours. Not just the Italian specialties, but also the soaps and souvenirs stacked on the shelf next to the sales counter, catch my interest. But unfortunately, I don't have hours, so I point at the table with the spices. "Tell me about these."
She grins mischievously. "You're from Austria, right? Your Italian is excellent." I nod in agreement, and then the lady with the wide smile peels herself off her stool and waddles toward me. "These are a selection of Tuscan herbs. Look here, this isoregano. If you want to prepare a real Italian pizza at home, this one is a must-have."
Even though I'm already familiar with the herbs, I still enjoy listening to her talk about their cultivation and harvest and what makes their unique flavor. Then she moves on to the shelf with olive oil and takes out a slim bottle.
"This here is a special treasure," she says, handing me the tiny bottle, the price of which makes me break into a sweat. Twenty euros for two hundred milliliters?
I take it with utmost care. "What makes it so special?"
"It's pressed from olives of the Leccino and Moraiolo varieties, making it exceptionally aromatic." Her rapturous expression captivates me. "Would you like to taste it?"
I quickly shake my head. "It's far too valuable for that."
"But why! Life is meant to be enjoyed," she responds gently, smiling, and takes the bottle back from my hand to open it. "Smell it."
Hesitantly, I sniff at the opening, and an intense blend of bitter and oily notes enters my nose. It smells like everything I've experienced so far here in Tuscany. Like the warmth of the sun and the green of the rolling hills. I feel my lips curling into a smile.
Beaming, I look up at the saleswoman with her salt-and-pepper hair. "This is wonderful."
"A true treasure," she says, lovingly caressing the dark bottle's exterior.
