“I’d like to see that.” Cris grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Not sure how I feel about that comment,” she mumbled.
They pulled off the autostrada and followed the GPS for only two turns before the landscape turned into a wide, rolling valley strewn with tidy rows of grapevines. They drove along the narrow road that intersected the vineyards, the rich scent of ripening grapes swirling through the windows. Tall evergreen trees dotted the fields, keeping a watch over the vines, and clusters of rosebushes and peonies lined the fences separating one property from another. Every now and then, they passed a dusty field scattered with donkeys, horses, or cows munching dreamily. They lifted their noses to watch Ellie and Cris drive by at their necessarily slow pace, but continued on with their lunch unaffected.
“I think that might be it.” Cris pointed at a large gate set at the edge of the road ahead on the left. He slowed the car as they approached and the words carved into the stone pillars beside the iron gate came into view:CANTINA CHIARO DI LUNA.
“Well, of course it’s a vineyard named for moonlight. What else would I expect?” Ellie said with a laugh. Damned Italy—always conspiring to make people believe the hype.
“Nothing less than magic, I suppose,” Cris said as he turned the car left through the gate. The road beyond was lined with a wall of spindly cypress trees on both sides leading to an enormous stone house with a Spanish-tile roof. Sprays of bougainvillea ran up the sides of the building, and a couple of drowsy hounds lay cooling in the shadow of the terrace. It was completely breathtaking, of course. But goddamn was it hot.
“Magic, huh? I’ll reserve my judgment until they canmagicallyproduce an igloo for me to sit in.” She didn’t know why she expected it to besomewhat cooler out in the countryside, but as the car slowed and ambled along the road, the lack of breeze was punishing. By the time they finally made it up the driveway and to the main courtyard, Ellie was desperate to at least get out of the car and breathe air that didn’t feel like it had wafted up from a deep fryer. Cris parked in a shady spot under a carport and Ellie ejected herself from the vehicle as soon as it came to a stop. She reached her arms up, feigning a stretch, but really she was trying to dry out her armpits before having to interact with humans. Except, where was everybody?
Ellie looked toward the main building, where the front door was open, but there was no sign of anyone. Across the courtyard, there was a large barn that looked like it had been converted into a barreling room, but again—no one. She turned her phone over to look at the time. It was 12:24P.M., which was six minutes before 12:30, which, as everyone knew, was the nationally recognized time for lunch. It was also the hour at which all business endeavors would cease, including the ones that two burritos drove one hour in a steam table to make happen. They would either get lucky and be able to pick up six cases of wine in the five minutes remaining or they’d be directed to get lost until everyone lunched, coffee’d, smoked, and resumed work at about 3:30P.M.Ellie mentally drove back through the streets they’d taken to get here, taking inventory of locations with air conditioning that might look the other way if two reasonably welldressed loiterers skulked around for three hours. She remembered seeing a Carrefour supermarket right after they exited the highway. Would they notice if she nestled in among the frozen green beans?
“Ugh, it’s too late. They must be at lunch. We’ll have to sit here for…”
“It’s not twelve thirty yet,” said Cris, checking his watch. “Think positive, will ya?”
“I am positive that I can’t even think right now.” Ellie tried to fan herself with her hands and also turn away to ignore the outline of Cris’s chest under his damp gray T-shirt.
“Buongiorno,” said a voice behind her. An older man with tufts of white hair ringing his balding head stood out on the terrace wiping his hands on a linen apron. He squinted at the two of them, then broke into a gigantic smile.
“Buongiorno!” called Cris.
“You must be Simone’s Cristiano! Your grandfather called me this morning to say you were coming. I am Piero!”
“Yes, I’m Cris. This is Ellie,” he said, turning to her.
“Piacere,” she said. “I’m so sorry we got here late. I am sure we are interrupting your lunch. We can come back later.”
“Well, it’s true that everyone is already sitting, so you’ll have to wait a bit. But why don’t you join us?” Piero gestured toward the main building.
“No, no, we couldn’t impose,” said Ellie, already backing toward the car.
“You’re not imposing,” said Piero. “It’s a light lunch, only a dish or two. Practically nothing, really. Come in, please. We will get you packed up after that.”
“Practically nothing, see?” Cris glared at Ellie. His look was the signal that they had entered the weird politeness chasm where it was unclear if it would be more insulting to impose or to refuse hospitality. In other words, it was time for lunch.
“If you’re sure.” Ellie smiled at Piero.
“We’d be delighted.”
A cooling breeze swept up to Cris, Ellie, and Piero as soon as they rounded the other side of the stone house, which was set up a bit higher than the valley below. A long wooden table stretched out under a tall pergola with a leafy roof. The table was laden with dishes and silverware, small pots of flowers, and bottles of wine from one end to the other. Men and women crowded around, pouring wine or water into one another’s glasses, bringing trays of cheeses or bread to the table, and already digging into the feast. There were baskets of grissini, bowls of salad greens and beans, a wooden board covered in sliced salumi, cups of fat green and black olives, and platters of sliced tomatoes, zucchini, and fennel doused in olive oil. On a side table, there were several rustic-looking cakes set out under white mosquito-netted domes, and painted ceramic bowls of fruit. In typical Italian fashion, “practically nothing” was a euphemism for “you won’t need to eat again until three days from now.”
Cris had been so hot up to that point that the thought of food hadn’t even entered his mind, but as soon as the crisp scent of fresh basil hit him, he was all in. Ellie looked a little stunned, standing by the table with a look on her face like she’d forgotten what she was doing here in the first place. She was probably stressing about interview questions and timing and anything else that would threaten their plans. It wasn’t like Cris hadn’t seen that face on her before, but he couldn’t stand to see her worry right now.
“Ragazzi,sit anywhere you like,” Piero called to them. He turned back to the group, explaining who they were.
“Welcome, welcome,” said an older woman with sandy-blond hair and riding boots who sat at the head of the table. Her gold rings glinted as she gestured toward the empty chairs at the end of the table. “I amLuisa,” she said as Piero sat down to her right. “Please, help yourself. We’re not formal here, just a workman’s lunch.”
“Thank you, you’re too kind. This is amazing!” said Ellie.
Cris pulled two chairs away from the table, and they were seated for less than one second before the parade of platters and dishes descended upon them. Wineglasses were passed down, and someone tipped a fizzy red liquid into their glasses.
“This is thefrizzante,” said a man with thick brown waves pulled into a low ponytail. He pointed at the tray of cheese. “I like this with theformaggio di capra stagionato.”
Cris took two small pieces of crumbly goat cheese from the tray and handed one to Ellie. They both picked up their wine, and the whole table raised glasses in a toast of “Cin!” before taking first sips. Cris turned to Ellie, raising the nugget of cheese toward her. He picked up her hand and bumped the cheese chunks together. She laughed and took a bite. Whatever apprehensiveness he’d observed in her up to that point was officially gone as her eyes rolled back.
