The typing on the keyboard resumes. "There's a newly opened vineyard nearby. They offer dinner amid the vineyards. Can you test it and take a few photos?"
Testing, yes. Taking photos will be challenging with my cast.
"Send me the address, and I'll see what I can do," I say anyway.
"You're the best." I think I hear a smile in his voice. "There's one more thing: the bungalow on the property. I thought it could be used for the workers during the renovation."
That sounds logical, but suddenly, I feel queasy at the thought. Swallowing hard, I try to maintain my composure.
"Give me the number of rooms and bathrooms, and check if we can fit in some extra mattresses or foldable beds. You know, the essentials," he continues with fervor. His enthusiasm shows me how much this project means to him.
He's fighting for us. Always for us.
"Consider it done," I try to sound as determined as he does. "Anything else?"
The sound of rustling papers is heard. "We have the cost estimates, and the loans are ready. I've summarized the outstanding contract points. Hopefully, we can resolve them soon. But we're already moving to the next round tomorrow," he mutters to himself, as if mentally going through everything. "Also, I need to reinspect the building's condition… Oh yes, one more thing. I want to arrange with the previous owners to vacate the main house immediately after the sale."
Immediately after the sale?
"Can you keep an eye on them, see if they're slowly packing up their belongings?" he asks me with a doubtful tone. "Even though the contract will probably take a few more weeks. It would be necessary for them to prepare for their move."
No, I can't do that.
How can I watch the family, whose fate has become so close to my heart in the past weeks, as they pack up their belongings in boxes? How does he expect me to do that? To stand in the doorway and supervise them? With a tight chest, I shake the thoughts from my head. "I still have a lot to do and probably won't have time for that," I reply. It's not the whole truth, but it's a step toward being more myself with Florian.
"You'll manage, I'm sure. I know I can always rely on you. Honestly, you're amazing," his affectionate words feel like a warm embrace. That's exactly what I need after all the turmoil and emotional upheaval of the past days. Florian is my haven.
"We'll see each other tomorrow. I can't wait," Florian adds before we say goodbye to each other.
Hesitantly, I lower the phone. At least now he knows about my casted arm, and I'll tell him the rest when the moment is right.
My phone screen lights up, showing a new message. It's the promised address of the winery.I've already reserved a table for you. Castello di Olmo, 7:00 PM. Be on time, so we can find out how well the kitchen is organized, I read in the message.Until then, you can keep an eye on the family's moveit also adds,
I don't respond. Instead, I let the phone fall onto the bed and head outside. I want to be in the garden, to clear my mind. There, among the wonderfully fragrant flowers and the tall grass tickling my shins, I can embrace life and the feeling of freedom in my chest.
But as soon as I close the door to my room, Camilla appears at the entrance of the house. Under her arm, she clutches a stack of folded cardboard boxes, which she leans against the damp hallway wall. She spots me before I can hide.
"Hey," she says with a tired voice, grabbing one of the boxes and unfolding it.
I raise my hand and return her greeting. A heavy silence hangs between us. And this, even though we used to understand each other so well. We were friends. Today, I'm the cause of her sadness.
"Let me help you," I say on impulse and step toward her.
She nods toward my injured arm. "You should rest."
I can barely bear her caring concern. "Please. I already feel guilty enough." I probably shouldn't admit that. I should be tougher and think more about the business. But it's the truth, and Camilla can probably see it written all over my face.
Suddenly, her features soften too. "You can't help it. I know that, and Alessia does too."
I wish it were that simple. "We're taking away your home." That's not true.
She reaches for a picture on the wall, carefully takes it off the holder, and places it in the box. "But only because we're not capable of preserving it," she says softly.
Suddenly, Tyrol and everything that's important there seems miles away. And I realize that there's still a solution that could work for all of us. Florian and I can find another property for our new inn and build our secure future there, just as we've always dreamed. It doesn't have to be this one!
I feel the fervor rising, pushing aside the guilt that has built up inside me over the past few weeks. I'm sure I can convince Florian, but as long as the Olivettas lack a plan to resume olive oil production, it won't help them.
"Is there no way to save the estate?" I ask urgently. "If Vico…" No, I won't even speak those words. Because that thought is still fuel to the fire of my quietly smoldering longing, a longing that must not flare up again.
