The Secrets of Villa Rosso: Escape to Italy for a summer romance to remember. Linn Halton B.
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Morning
Hope you slept well. Sorry it was such a late arrival time, it wouldn’t have bothered me but I realise it was really throwing you in at the deep end.
Mum is having an operation to pin the bone in her arm later today. Did I tell you I’m squeamish? Even the thought of it makes my stomach heave!
Right – work. Max is easy to deal with, he doesn’t play games and there’s no issue over getting a good price if we buy a container load at a time. I’m guessing he’s probably the only English-speaking person you will come into contact with on your trip. He will escort you everywhere, so don’t worry about that. Your job is to suss out whether what’s on offer will fit into our new hotel refurbishment schemes. If it’s a big hotel we are kitting out, but it’s clear they couldn’t scale up to meet our order, then we know we can only look at them as a supplier for our bespoke service. But if there aren’t enough items that jump out at you as being what we’re looking for, then it will make it too costly; even if, as Max has suggested, we could share part of a container with another client. Sorry I’m waffling but I’m so tired my brain feels like cotton wool.
If you send me photos of what you think is right for us and it starts to look promising, then this trip will have been worthwhile. What I also need is your view on whether the operation is robust enough. The last thing we want is to place large orders and then suffer constant delays because there are weak links in their chain. I really appreciate the sacrifice on your part, my lovely friend. I know you – bet you are already homesick!
Anyway, enjoy the sun. It’s pouring with rain here and I’m off to the hospital. Shudder. Even the smell as I enter the building makes me want to turn and run away. And have some fun!
Hugs,
Livvie
PS Don’t forget to send me pics of the villa. I’m really gutted not to be experiencing it first-hand.
Poor Livvie, or maybe I should be reserving my sympathy for her mother. As I begin typing a reply there’s a tap on the door. With no further hesitation a smiling young woman steps inside, a breakfast tray balanced on one upturned hand.
‘Good morning, Mrs Maddison, I hope you slept well.’
My jaw drops, as the last thing I expected was to be greeted by a young Englishwoman. She’s probably in her early twenties; her dark hair has vivid blue streaks running through it, clearly visible even though it’s neatly tied back in a ponytail.
‘You’re English, this is a surprise.’ The words are out of my mouth before I engage my brain. She turns to smile at me, one eyebrow raised. I feel the need to explain myself.
‘Sorry, my boss just emailed me to say the manager here is probably going to be the only English-speaking person I’m likely to meet.’
She laughs.
‘I’m Bella and your boss is almost correct. Some of our hotel staff can speak a few words of English, but I gather you’re here to tour some of the outworkers’ locations. Mr Johnson will be escorting you, so there’s no need to worry. Everyone calls him Max, by the way.’
‘Thank goodness. I had to switch places with my boss at the last minute and so I had no time to prepare. It feels wrong, and a bit rude, not being able to speak at least a little of the language. Ironically I can speak French quite well and a little German, but this is my first trip to Italy. Have you lived here a long time?’
As we talk, Bella’s hands busily uncover several plates with a range of fruits, cheeses and pastries. The aroma from the coffee pot makes my mouth salivate.
‘I came here for my gap year, mainly to please my mother. She’s Italian and my father is a Londoner. We’ve always spoken mainly English at home, so I thought what better way to brush up on my Italian than to come and live here for a year? It put me in her good books for a while; we don’t always see eye to eye.’
We exchange sympathetic glances.
‘For a while?’
She gives me a broad smile, accompanied by a hearty laugh. ‘When the year was up the family asked me to stay and so here I am. My mother wasn’t impressed as she had high hopes for me. She says I’m not ambitious enough, but in an ironic twist of fate I’ve fallen under the spell of the Italian way of life. Anyway, Max thought you’d want to have a quiet breakfast and says he’ll be at your disposal any time after ten this morning. Just let reception know when you are ready.’
‘Thank you, I will. I’m hoping I’ll pick up a few Italian words over the next couple of days.’
‘Dove c’è una volontà, c’è un modo.’
I look at Bella blankly and she immediately interprets it for me.
‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way – more, or less. But doesn’t it sound better in Italian?’
‘You’re right. It’s just hard not being able to pick up any clues. You could have been saying anything to me.’
We exchange friendly smiles.
‘Max will do everything to make your visit pleasant and enjoyable. He’s a lovely man and very personable. I don’t know what the locals would do without him. If there’s anything you need, you only have to ask.’
‘Thank you, but right now that coffee is calling to me.’
‘I’ll leave you to enjoy it, then. Have a good day.’ As the door is about to close Bella says, ‘That’s buona giornata.’
‘Grazie, Bella.’ I think I just said thank you, beautiful!
Right, coffee first and the next task is to ring Josh, tell him how much I’m missing him and say good morning to my girls before my big adventure begins.
I dress with care, knowing that first impressions are everything when it comes to appearing confident and professional. Slipping into my favourite little black dress, teamed with a lightweight white linen cropped-sleeve jacket, I’m not unhappy with the image staring back at me. A little makeup, a quick brush of my shoulder-length dark-blonde hair and I’m done. Oh, I nearly forgot about earrings. I dive into my bag to rescue my jewellery pouch and settle on the single pearls. They were an anniversary present from Josh and as I slip them on it adds a little sparkle to my eyes. He says I’m beautiful; it’s not true, of course, and what I see is a face that looks rather plain, with dark-blue eyes that aren’t of the piercing variety. Just, well, ordinary.
One last check that I have everything I need, before I slip on my flat leather pumps and my work persona is ready to go. It allows me to push those nagging little domestic worries to one side and remember that there’s a big wide world out there. I can rise to any challenge and I know that. But this is a first for me and everything has happened so quickly. I haven’t had time to transition between the two worlds; that leap from the domestic to the business world is a big one. And yet the moment I stepped out of the car last night it was almost like a home-coming. Perhaps one of my internal wires isn’t working and is giving me a false reading. That thought is a worrying one, as everyone I meet will be expecting an experienced business woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.
I grab the large, gate-keeper-style key and lock the door, then walk across to the ornate metal balustrade and peer down over the reception area. The white-washed walls and dark wooden beams throughout add a sense of space and height to the vaulted ceiling. The central light is an art form, with a cascade of cleverly intertwined metal leaves highlighted with enamelling in shades of white, silver and grey. As I slowly descend the elegant staircase I reflect that it’s the sort of piece Livvie would love to get her hands on at almost any price.
There’s