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)
I took a sip, and an unexpected burn went down my throat. I coughed. “There’s more Sambuca than coffee in this.”
She grinned. “Delizioso, no?”
Over the next hour—it was a good thing that customer hadn’t returned in fifteen minutes—Francesca amused me with stories of things she and my grandmother had done. She pointed to her garden. “My zucchini, look how small. Your nonna, she was-a queen of zucchini.”
“I know. She took a lot of pride in winning the biggest zucchini contest every summer at the farmers market. All of the plaques are still up on the back wall of the antique shop.”
“Da last year she-a was alive, she almost lose. Dey say Gianni Marcelli grow one that weighs twelve kilos. That’s more than twenty-six pounds!.”
“Wow. My grandmother’s weighed more than that?”
Francesca smirked. “No. We dress all in black one night and cut his zucchini off the vine in his yard.”
My eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”
“No! And his schnauzer wake up. We run fast, only escape by t’rowing cherry tomatoes at da animal—Boom! Boom! We run to da Vespa and go!”
I laughed. What a visual. Two eighty-something-year-old ladies dressed in burglar attire running with a twelve kilo zucchini. “No wonder she loved you. You’re two peas in a pod.”
“We don’t leave any evidence, eit’er. We bake fourteen zucchini breads, fry four pounds of fritters, make two big pots of ratatouille. We might be thieves, but we no waste food.”
I could’ve spent all day listening to these stories, but when another customer pulled up out front, I didn’t want to cost her another sale. “I should get going.”
“Okay, dear. I get the word out about da store. But you must come back. You promise?”
“I’d love that.”
She walked me to the front, and her eyes lit up when she saw my Vespa. “Ahhh, I miss dat bike.”
I smiled. “Next time I visit, we’ll go for a ride.”
“Perfetto.”
We hugged, and I was about to leave when she stopped me with a finger in the air.
“Oh! I almost forget. My niece, she live down in Minori near the Amalfi Coast, she call me. She has antique shop, too. T’ree years ago, Sophia show her da tea set she begin collecting. Iliana say she look out for pieces. And guess what? She found one. She buy it. Do you know of the tea set I speak of?”
“I do. The pieces I’ve seen are beautiful.”
“Maybe you want to keep collecting, maybe not, but with more pieces, you get better price if you sell, eh?”
“I’d love to add to the collection. How far is Minori?”
“Four and a half, maybe five hours. It is beautiful place to visit, when it’s not overrun by tourists.”
“Maybe I’ll take a trip down one day.”
“Or I have her ship it here. You just tell me. No rush.”
“I will. Thank you so much for everything, Francesca.”
On my way home, I saw Matteo in his driveway standing in the bed of his truck. He had on a backward baseball hat and no shirt as he unloaded wine barrels, and I nearly drove into a ditch watching him. When he spotted me on the Vespa, he stopped, and I beeped and waved, feeling like a local. He shook his head, but I saw the smile on his face, even from the road.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his dinner invitation since I woke up this morning. I’d wanted to say yes—God, I wanted to—but something about Matteo gave me pause. He was the kind of man who could make you believe in forever, and I only had a few months.
At home, or rather, Nonna’s house, I flipped over the Closed sign in the store to show Open and decided to spend the morning weeding the rest of the flower beds. I’d finished her English garden on the side of the house, but the front still needed to be done, and it was a gorgeous day. It was a bonus that I could see Matteo’s driveway from where I was working. Though sadly, he was no longer unloading barrels without a shirt. Around eleven, I saw his truck pull out and head toward Nonna’s. My heart sped up, thinking he was going to stop, but he looked straight ahead as he passed and didn’t even wave. Four hours went by before the truck returned. And when it did, his sister was with him.
A few minutes after they parked, Luciana crossed the field that separated our properties and climbed the fence like it was a normal, everyday thing to do. Her big, friendly smile was the same as last night, but she was dressed very differently than I would’ve expected, based on the sexy robe she’d worn yesterday.
“Ciao!” She held up a bag. “I brought you some outfits to try for Friday night.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”