The Best Man and The Wedding Planner. Teresa Carpenter
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yelped in outrage. Caprese was the small village where the artist Michelangelo was born. “That’s the other direction from Monte Calanetti from Florence. What are we doing here?”
“I told you last night. I have an errand to run for Antonio before I go to Monte Calanetti. It’s just a quick stop to check on his groomsmen gifts and do a fitting.”
“You so did not tell me.”
“I’m pretty sure I did. You really can’t hold your champagne, can you?”
“Stop saying ‘champagne brain.’ When did we have this conversation? Did I actually participate or was I sleeping?”
“You were talking, but I suppose you might have dozed off. You got quiet toward the end. I thought you were just involved in the movie. And then I fell asleep.”
“Well, I don’t remember half of what you’ve told me. You should have reminded me of the plans we supposedly made this morning. I need to get to Monte Calanetti and I need my own car. I know you’re trying to be helpful but...”
“But I got you stuck out in the middle of nowhere. And you’re already tired from the flight. I’m sorry.”
Lindsay clenched her teeth in frustration watching as the headlights slowly moved closer. Sorry didn’t fix the situation. She appreciated the apology—many men wouldn’t have bothered—but it didn’t get her closer to Monte Calanetti. She had planned to hit the road running tomorrow with a visit to the wedding venue, the Palazzo di Comparino and restored chapel, before meeting with Christina in the afternoon.
Now she’d have to reschedule, move the interview back.
“Lindsay?” Zach prompted. “Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to rearrange my schedule in my head.” She glanced at her watch, which she’d already adjusted to local time. Seven-fifteen. It felt much later. “What do you think our chances are of getting to Monte Calanetti tonight?”
“Slim. I doubt we’ll find a mechanic willing to work on the Land Rover tonight. We’ll probably have to stay over and head out tomorrow after it’s fixed.”
“If they have the necessary part.”
“That will be a factor, yes. Here’s our help.” A small pickup honked as it drove past them then made a big U-turn and pulled up in front of them.
Zach hopped out to meet the driver.
Lindsay slid her arms into Zach’s jacket and went to join them.
“Think it’s the timing belt.” Zach aimed his flashlight at the engine as he explained the problem to the man next to him. Their savior had gray-streaked black hair and wore blue coveralls. The name on his pocket read Luigi.
“Ciao, signora,” the man greeted her.
She didn’t bother to correct him, more eager to have him locate the problem than worried about his assumption that she and Zach were married.
The driver carried a much bigger flashlight. The power of it allowed the men a much better view of the internal workings of the Land Rover. The man spoke pretty good English and he and Zach discussed the timing belt and a few other engine parts, none of which Lindsay followed but she understood clearly when he said he’d have to tow them into Caprese.
Wonderful.
Luigi invited her to sit in his truck while he got the Land Rover hooked up to be towed. She nodded and retrieved her purse. Zach walked her to the truck and held the door for her. The interior smelled like grease and cleanser, but it was neat and tidy.
“From what I remember from my research of Italy, small is a generous adjective when describing Caprese. At just over a thousand residents, ‘tiny’ would be more accurate. I’m not sure it has a hotel if we need to stay over.”
“I’m sure there’ll be someplace. I’ll ask Luigi. It’s starting to rain. I’m going to see if I can help him to make things go faster.” He closed the door and darkness enveloped her.
The splat of rain on the windshield made her realize her ire at the situation had served to distract her from the looming storm. With its arrival, she forgot her schedule and just longed for sturdy shelter and a warm place to spend the night.
A few minutes later the men joined her. Squeezed between them on the small bench seat, she leaned toward Zach to give Luigi room to drive. The first right curve almost put her in Zach’s lap.
“There’s a bed-and-breakfast in town. Luigi’s going to see about a room for us there.” Zach spoke directly into her ear, his warm breath blowing over her skin.
She shivered. That moment couldn’t come soon enough. The closer they got to town, the harder it rained. Obviously they were headed into the storm rather than away from it.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a small garage. Lindsay dashed through the rain to the door and then followed the men inside to an office that smelled like the truck and was just as tidy. Luigi immediately picked up the phone and dialed. He had a brief conversation in Italian before hanging up.
He beamed at Lindsay and Zach. “Bene, bene, my friends. The bed-and-breakfast is full with visitors. Si, the bad weather—they do not like to drive. But I have procured for you the last room. Is good, si?”
“Si. Grazie, Luigi.” Zach expressed his appreciation then asked about the repairs.
For Lindsay only two words echoed through her head: one room.
THE B AND B WAS a converted farmhouse with stone walls, long, narrow rooms and high ceilings. The furniture was sparse, solid and well worn.
Lindsay carried the heavy garment bag to the wardrobe and arranged it as best she could and then turned to face the room she’d share with Zach. Besides the oak wardrobe there was a queen bed with four posters, one nightstand, a dresser with a mirror above it and a hardback chair. Kindling rested in a fireplace with a simple wooden mantel, ready to be lit.
The bathroom was down the hall.
No sofa or chair to sleep on and below her feet was an unadorned hardwood floor. There was no recourse except to share the bed.
And the bedspread was a wedding ring quilt. Just perfect.
Her mother would say it was a sign. She’d actually have a lot more to say, as well, but Lindsay ruthlessly put a lock on those thoughts.
Lightening flashed outside the long, narrow window. Lindsay pulled the heavy drapes closed, grateful for the accommodation. She may have to share with a near stranger and the room may not be luxurious, but it was clean and authentic, and a strong, warm barrier against the elements.
Now why did that make her think of Zach?
The rain absorbed the humidity and dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees. The stone room was cool. Goose bumps chased across her skin.
She lit the kindling and once it caught added some wood. Warmth spread into the room. Unable to wait any longer, she made a quick trip down the hall. Zach was still gone when she got back. He’d dropped off her luggage and had gone back for his. She rolled the bigger case over next to the wardrobe. She didn’t think she’d need anything out of it for one night.
The smaller one she set on the bed. She’d just unzipped it when a thud came at the door.
Zach surged into the room with three bags in tow.
“Oh, my goodness. You are soaked.” She closed the door and rushed to the dresser. The towels were in the top drawer just as the innkeeper said.
Zach took it and scrubbed his face and head.
She tugged at his sopping jacket, glad now she’d thought to give