Jade hid her expression by sipping from her wine glass. ‘See a lot of each other’ sounded like a blatant double entendre relating to their early twenties, working hard, playing hard – and for her, at least, falling hard, for Leo Sartori.
Mia beamed. ‘We sometimes eat at Villa Panorama when we get a night away from our own restaurant. Are you the son who’s been living away? Have you come back to help your family in the hotel?’
‘I think they’re doing OK without me,’ Leo replied easily. When he lifted his fork, Mia perhaps realised that her guests would like to be left to the quiet enjoyment of their dinner and called another bright, ‘Buon appetito,’ before threading back between the busy tables and into the interior of the restaurant.
Jade nibbled her first slice of pizza without her usual pleasure in the deliciously rich tomato and tangy basil. Her appetite didn’t seem to have come to the bistro with her. Maybe it was thewaft of garlic from the next table or her headache. She paused to sip her wine.
Evidently, Leo placed his own interpretation on her lack of appetite. ‘It was insensitive of me to crow over not having business partners when you’ve just found out about your sisters.’
Shrugging, she put down her wine and picked up her water glass.
He ate another mouthful. ‘But you don’t know that your sisters are going to be a negative in your life—’
‘Don’t.’ With an effort, she summoned a smile to balance out the bite in her voice. ‘Vittoria’s given me several ray-of-sunshine speeches about family support and love. I understand the theory. But I’mscared, OK? I’ve not only lost Gran, but some of my trust in her. I’m trying not to re-evaluate our entire life together, but after we lost Nonno she was the only person always on my side... except, apparently, her loyalties were divided.’ Words tumbled from her lips in a landslide of disappointment. ‘I remember her dropping hints about having to be fair. ButI’mthe one she cared for from day one, as I cared for her as she grew older.I’mthe one who worked with her, putting everything into the pensione just as she did. I feel as if she could have –shouldhave – acknowledged that by making sure I ended up with the business.’
He toyed with his pasta, which glistened in its creamy sauce. ‘Italian succession law—’
‘I know.’ That was the problem she’d wrestled with since the day Mary Smith had handed her Mairead’s letter. ‘She couldn’t have gifted the pensione to me while she was alive because the others could still have claimed. She knew about Erin and Rosalie so she couldn’t pretend she didn’t. Iknow. But being kept in the dark was a shock. I’ve gained half-siblings, but all I can see is their potential to take Three Sisters from me or make it something I no longer want. The situation’s like wrestling witha jellyfish – impossible to get a grip on. And Erin didn’t check if it was OK to come. She just booked.’ Sucking in a deep breath, she blinked back hot tears. ‘Sorry,’ she added quietly. ‘Now I’m getting petty.’
Leo’s eyes grew soft with sympathy, reflecting the light from the table lamp. ‘I know how it feels to have your life ripped up and not know how to glue it together.’
For a while they ate in silence, listening to the deep, melodiousker-dang,ker-dangof the cathedral bells until Jade had given up on her meal and Leo had chased down the last piece of ravioli on his plate. The Hotel Metropole Suisse on the corner cast shade diagonally across Piazza Cavour to douse the slice of sunlight that had been bathing their table and the intense heat went out of the day.
Conversation having flagged so early, Jade wasn’t surprised when neither of them chose dessert. Leo signalled for the bill, then said, ‘Let’s walk along the lakeside. The breeze might untidy your hair.’
Jade found herself smiling. He knew she’d always liked walking with her hair writhing like the gorgon’s snakes. It was a friendly, cheerful memory among all the turbulent, hurt recollections she had of them together. ‘Sounds good.’
They set off across Piazza Cavour, carefully apart as they navigated busy Lungo Lario Trieste at a crossing to the broad, paved promenade, alive with people strolling or jogging by the lakeside. The sun was sinking between two rugged ridges, creating apricot haloes in the sky over these foothills of the Bergamo Alps and reflecting on every ripple of the lake. A lone ferry arrived at the breakwater with a toot of its horn and three leisure boats burbled slowly into the arms of the marina, making their moored counterparts bob. Swallows swooped over the water, snatching insects from the air. The breeze was lazy,but Jade still unclipped her hair to let it stream as if her worries would stream away too.
‘Pwwh.’ Leo pretended to splutter and shove the locks out of his face.
‘Your suggestion,’ she reminded him, feeling the tiniest lift to her spirits at his clowning. She pulled her hair over the shoulder furthest from him and ensured they walked a step apart.
At the end of the breakwater, a massive steel monument, like the outline of a spark caught in metal, gleamed in the evening light. Yet another homage to Alessandro Volta. Jade preferred the more traditional monuments that were dotted about the city – especially Giardini del Tempio Voltiano, which lay ahead of them now, green and leafy, but sadly overgrown and presently closed to the public.
Leo sidestepped a child on a balance bike, her sunflower-yellow helmet dipping over one eye, lips pursed in concentration. A bulky, middle-aged man with a moustache called out to Jade.
Jade waved. ‘Buonasera.’ When he’d passed, she said to Leo, ‘He manages the gelateria further along.’
He nodded. ‘I haven’t been back long enough to get to know local traders again.’ As if to himself, he added, ‘I’ve missed things. A long summer. The lake. My family.’ He looked out over the magnificent but busy lake, and its guardian mountains that in winter would wear caps and cloaks of snow.
‘But you’ll go back to the UK soon? After all, it’s always meant everything to you.’ She shaded her eyes to gaze at a building that she knew to be a bank, a pleasing combination of ivory-coloured walls, blue shutters, grey cornerstones and a single ornate balcony above the portico. Standing in its own grounds, it would have made a wonderful hotel. The hotels in Como generally had little outside space, which was why Villa Panorama’s steep gardens set it apart.
Leo turned back to her. ‘I suppose I can go anywhere for the right opportunity.’
‘Each of us is destabilised,’ she said. ‘Everything changed by things beyond our control.’
He frowned at her. ‘I hate to know you’re scared of the future.’
‘I’ll be OK.’ Jade gathered her hair and put it up again, so she didn’t have to look at him. Despite her cool reply she knew that any sympathy in those familiar blue-grey eyes could send her emotions bubbling to the surface. She turned around. ‘I think I’ll go home.’ Now she could see Villa Panorama, further round the Como harbour, its back to the village of Brunate high above, and the setting sun turning its pale apricot to peach. It was beautiful, nestled in the stone landscape among other similarly impressive villas, a traditional building that had once been her home.
He turned too. ‘Gelato on the way?’
‘Great.’ They strolled back in silence until they reached a gelateria, where he chosefragola, or strawberry, an almost identical delicate pink as the outside of the pensione, and she chosenocciola, hazelnut, creamy and not too sweet, catching drips with her tongue so as not to waste a drop down the side of the biscuity cone. They idled across the road as they ate, and crossed the piazza. Anton’s Bistro was still busy, and Mia delivered a couple of meals to a table and then waved.
Jade waved back, before stepping closer to the entrance to Pensione Three Sisters and out of Mia’s sight.
Leo’s dark hair stirred in the breeze. ‘Buonanotte.’ But he didn’t move away.
