Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“When she told me about the garden, she said da least your grandfather could do since he died first was continue to hold her ass and drink wine with her.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know the meaning.”
I wondered if there was a reason Sophia hadn’t mentioned anything about the trees to Allegra, and maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But it was too late. I couldn’t unsay it, so I leaned in a little more. “There is a…vivaio not far from the plumbing-supply store—a place that sells plants and trees. My Inglese is a bit rusty.”
“Nursery?”
“Yes, exactly.”
She smiled. “I think your English is pretty good. Did you learn it in school?”
“Yes.”
“I took six years of Italian and spent every summer here for fifteen years, but I don’t remember ninety percent of what I learned. I don’t use it enough. Do you use English a lot, like with people in your business or something?”
I hesitated. “My ex-wife, she was American.”
“Oh.” Allegra let my answer soak in before adding, “If your divorce was anything like most of my clients’, you probably aren’t rusty on the curse words.”
“That’s what field you worked in? Divorce?”
She nodded.
“That sounds horrible.”
Allegra laughed. “Sometimes it can be. But at least there’s never a dull moment.”
“I suppose.”
I fell quiet for a while after that. Allegra didn’t seem to mind. She gazed out the window, lost in her own world. “It really is beautiful here,” she said. “I feel like I’m inside a painting.”
I looked around. Rolling hills were dotted with vineyards and golden fields, while dirt paths leading to hundred-year-old stone farmhouses were lined with cypress trees. And every once in a while, we passed a sunflower field. Even a bad photographer could snap a good postcard around every turn. “I’m a lucky man.”
When we arrived at the plumbing store, they only had one cast-iron tub in stock, but Allegra seemed to love it. I picked up a few things I’d need to get her up and running—a new shower body, piping, and plumber’s tape. Anything else, I had at home. The nursery was only a mile down the road, so we made a stop there after we were done.
“There are a few types of trees back there, aren’t there?” she asked.
I nodded. “The majority are cypress and pines, but there are also a few fruit trees, and your grandfather’s tree is da only oak.”
“I feel like Nonna should be an oak, too. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I think she’d like it if they matched.”
“An oak it is, then.”
We picked up a seedling, and by the time we made it back to Montepulciano, the sun was beginning to set. I parked in the antique shop’s driveway. “I’ll leave the truck here and unload da tub tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Okay. I have to be at the attorney’s office at one, but I can help before or after.”
“I probably have a couple of the pickers help me unload. If it’s okay with you, I might start while you’re gone.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate you helping me whenever you can.”
I got out of the truck, and Lupo jumped down behind me. I’d been with this woman since six o’clock this morning, yet I still didn’t feel like calling it a day. Allegra got out and didn’t make an effort to run into the house either, so I wondered if she might be feeling the same. Though I reminded myself it was wiser to go home. “All right.” I waved. “I see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you again for taking me to get the tub.”
I nodded. “And thank you for helping pick dis morning.” I whistled to jostle Lupo, who had already laid down at my feet. “Let’s go, boy.”
“Ciao.” She smiled, and I felt it in the pit of my stomach. It was definitely time to go. Because the only other time a woman had given me that feeling, I should’ve run, not walked, away.
Chapter 8
Matteo
15 years ago
WHAT THE HECK is she doing?
I sat on the bleachers, sweat dripping from my brow, waiting for my group to be called to the field for football tryouts. The sun blazed over the metal benches, making them almost too hot to sit on. Around me, everyone else focused on the drills the coach was running with the current group, but I couldn’t look away from what was going on under the bleachers.
The new girl had tied a length of string between two of the bench bottoms, and she was carefully balancing pebbles along it, one by one. Every three or four added, she’d step back, tilt her head, and smile as she examined her work.
It wasn’t the nutty project itself that caught me; it was the smile. Every time she did it, I felt a weird ache in my stomach—like I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. But I’d had a big breakfast and lunch today.