Chapter 8

Harrison meets methe next morning down in the lobby. "Did the tour company call you last night?"

"Oh yes. Monica Morelli was most concerned I wouldn't be suing the company or leaving a bad review."

"Me too!" He holds the lobby door open for me.

"I told her I was going to stay a few more days, and she told me to call them to help book my flight back home."

"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow, but will head to Florence tomorrow morning, so you've got me for the day," Harrison says as we head outside.

"Well, we better make the best of it. I thought we could go in search of breakfast first?"

"Let's do it."

We set off down the cobblestone path until we find a small stand selling pastries and bitter espressos. Harrison buys a local paper before we sit down at a café table. He spreads it open and searches for the wanted ads.

"Let's see what Tuscany has to offer in case you need to get a job. There's an opening for a baker?"

"I'm only good at making slice and bake chocolate-chip cookies."

"Let's see…a modella nuda."

"My Italian isn't quite up to par, but by the sound of it, I can tell you that's a hard no."

"Coltivatore di olive in cerca di aiuto." Harrison quickly types the phrase into his phone. "Oh, this could be interesting. An olive grower looking for help, offering room and board. Kill two birds with one stone. Oh, I've heard about this. It's called workaway."

"Wouldn't it be fun to work at a vineyard?"

"I guess." He peruses the section. "No vineyards listed here. I think the olive farm is the next best choice."

"Hmm…olive oil does have a lot of health benefits. Is there an address?"

"No, but we can ask around. It's called the Uliveto Rossi."

"Okay, maybe we can go tour over there and check it out. Look up how much houses cost here." I tap my leg against the table in a steady beat, not sure if it's the strong coffee making me jumpy or the fact I'm entertaining the idea of staying. Last night, I called Cara and told her all about the bike tour, about the accident, and about my future husband, Dr. Bianchi. She asked if I was coming home, but I told her I wanted to stay a few days and explore.

I know what she would say to me right now if she were sitting across from me. Girl, you've lost your fucking mind. I ignore her voice in my head while Harrison scans the listings, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. "What?"

"Well, there's a villa with a pool…seven hundred and fifty thousand euros. And there's another villa with its own vineyard, at a cool one million euros."

"There has to be something cheaper, possibly not a villa? I said it would be fun to work at a vineyard, not own one."

Harrison shakes his head. "Looks like they're all villas."

"Maybe I'll have to stay in town and rent an apartment. Work at a coffee shop!"

"Uh, apartments are eight thousand euros a month," Harrison says as he reads. "You'll have to learn how to be a baker, drive a Vespa, and speak Italian."

"Eight thousand euros? That's double what I pay in California! My future here isn't looking so bright," I say glumly.

"Let's go check this place out." Harrison peeks at his Apple watch. "They just opened."

"What's the point?" I ask hopelessly. "Why bother with a job if I can't afford to rent a place?"

"They said they offer room and board."

"On an olive farm? I'll probably be in a tent out in the groves or out in a shed with the donkeys."

"Sounds biblical…and cheap."

I look at him doubtfully as we gather our espressos and find a taxi.

Thirty minutes later,we are standing outside a beautiful limestone home with fields sloping down into hills of olive trees as far as the eye can see. I shield my eyes against the warm Italian sun. "Casa Rossi. Are you sure this is the place, Harrison?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Well, at least I think the cab driver said this was it." He brazenly walks up to the front door, and I follow suit because in the week I've gotten to know Harrison, I've never seen him act boldly. I note the beautiful terracotta pots glazed with turquoise on either side of the double front door, filled with red geraniums and lavender. He knocks loudly. Soft, melodic humming approaches us from the other side of the door before it swings open.

"Sí?" A plump older woman greets us. She's wearing a silk tunic top and matching palazzo pants in a pale shade of lavender. Her white hair is pulled back into a chignon, and deep lines etched into her tanned face crinkle as she smiles. "Posso aiutarla?"

"Are you Signora Rossi? Uh…lei parla inglese?" Harrison asks. I wring my hands nervously. Although she looks to be in her eighties, her blue eyes are vivid and shrewd as she looks us over.

"Sí, yes, a some. Can I help you?"

"Oh good, my friend here is looking to stay in Italy and we saw the ad for the job here. It includes room and board, sí?" Harrison asks, taking charge.

The woman eyes me from head to toe while Harrison babbles on about renting and becoming a baker.

"You want to uh…cucinare e pulire? Sí, yes, you stay and clean."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry you misunderstood. I want to pick olives," I say slowly and smile big.

Her smile dips into a frown. She shakes her head and points to my bandaged hand. "No, no olives. You stay here and you buy property, sí?"

"Wait, what? No, no buying property." The numbers Harrison had talked about earlier for villas flash before my eyes. There's no way I could afford a place like this. Not even with the money my grandmother left me or if I sold my townhome. My mind spins, afraid to let this opportunity slip through my fingers, not thinking through the logistics of it all. "Possibly rent? Sí?"

Gravel churns under tires, interrupting our conversation. A black Maserati turns into the small lot in front of the house. We turn to see a gorgeous man with tousled dark hair lending his hand to help a slim brunette, wearing a cream wrap dress, out of the passenger side. Dark sunglasses swallow up her face as she teeters on her skyscraper heels on the gravel. The man notices us lingering on the doorstep and says something to the woman while she grabs her satchel from the car. He strides toward us, his handsome face set into a mask of stone.

"Nonna, chi è questo? Ho un incontro adesso con Daniella."

Harrison leans in and whispers as he looks at his phone. "I just typed it in my translator app. He said, ‘Grandma, who is this? I have a meeting right now with smoking-hot Daniella'."

I stifle a giggle. "He did not say smoking-hot."

"How would you know? You admitted you know like one word."

"I said I'm picking it up. I can say hello and goodbye," I murmur, ignoring Harrison's snort. I'm too distracted by the beautiful Italian man marching up to us like a dark thundercloud. He makes Dr. Bianchi look like amateur hour at Nick and Ricks. His rich, artfully mussed, dark brown hair is effortlessly styled. His sharp jawline begs to be kissed until his plush lips curve into a smile. His olive complexion is dark against the linen button-down that matches the color of the sky behind him.

Nonna Rossi steps over the threshold and spits to the side. Harrison and I both jump, surprised by her reaction.

"This house is mine to decide, Lorenzo! I tell you already."

Lorenzo stills, looking perplexed. His shrewd gaze narrows on us. "American?"

"Sí," I say. "Parli inglese?"

"Yes. Excuse us, but we have a meeting. The store is up the road," he says curtly, brushing past us while glaring at his nonna. Daniella finally makes it to the flagstone path and exhales a sigh of relief. She smiles, nodding her head to us, and quickly steps around the old woman.

"Well, okay, we should probably get going, right, Harrison?"

"Right," Harrison murmurs, arching his neck to watch Daniella disappear down the front entry hall.

"Come, come." Nonna Rossi ushers us inside before we can escape. "You see it? You buy."

"Oh, this probably isn't the best time for you right now…meetings and such." I trail behind her, curiosity and Harrison's shove propelling me forward. "And I'm not interested in buying…" My voice peters off as I enter the old Tuscan home.

The wood floors, waxed to a beautiful honey brown, shine in the afternoon light. The ornate crystal chandeliers sparkle, and someone painted beautiful murals of the countryside on the limestone walls. I spin in a circle. It's otherworldly and beautiful. Large arched doors leading out to a veranda are open, letting a fragrant breeze blow through, whispering against the cornflower-blue silk curtains. Floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the doors allow golden light to spill into the room.

This is it. This is my Frances moment. I can feel it with every fiber of my being. This is what I've been searching for…an old villa in Tuscany.

"I'll take it," I say breathlessly, ignoring my internal Cara voice, screaming for me to wait a damn second and think this through.

Nonna Rossi claps her hands together and smiles. "Molto bene."

"It's not for sale." I whirl around and drink in Nonna's grandson leaning against the far wall. "The house is not for sale, despite what Nonna has told you."

His English is crisp and impeccable, even with his Italian accent giving it a silky texture. But there's no mistaking his tone. We are non benvenuti. His gaze lazily roams down my body and lands on my splinted thumb. Daniella perches on the velvet couch with her open satchel. She takes out a calculator, several pens, and a sheath of papers, spreading them across the low coffee table.

I arch an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms. "Your nonna says differently."

"Ma, che sei densa. Nonna is not well. She doesn't understand—"

Nonna Rossi screeches, making me jump and sending Harrison scurrying for cover. She waves her hands around, yelling in a rush of Italian. I back into Harrison, hiding next to a desk that looks to be a thousand years old.

"What is she saying?" I hiss.

"I have no clue. She's talking too fast for me to put it in my translator."

Lorenzo bows his head and has the decency to appear contrite while his grandmother rails on him. Daniella is blissfully ignorant to this entire exchange while she taps out something on her phone. Either she's hard of hearing, or this little screaming match is normale.

I step forward and hold my hands out for them to stop. "Please don't fight. If the house isn't available, I understand."

"Cosa direbbe tuo nonno del tuo comportamento?" Nonna Rossi stomps her foot, ending the argument with this sentence. The room falls silent.

Lorenzo looks up, his hazel eyes lasering right through me. He sets his jaw and grinds out, "Grandfather would say, ‘do as your grandmother wishes'."

Nonna Rossi folds her arms over her chest, a sly smile spreading across her face. "You were always my favorite, Lorenzo." She pats his cheek and turns, barking an order at Daniella. The slim brunette hastily stuffs her papers into her satchel.

"Nonna Rossi is wicked scary," Harrison whispers in my ear. I just mutely nod, unable to tear my gaze away from Lorenzo. His eyes are unreadable before he turns toward the window. He folds his arms over his expansive chest, pulling his shirt tight against his muscular back, his body rigid. His jaw ticks as he peers over at his grandmother, contemplating. If he weren't so rude, I'd find him incredibly attractive.

Who am I kidding, he's gorgeous.

"Un altra gatta randagia, Nonna? Unbelievable." He shakes his head. "Daniella, andiamo ora!" He pauses right before he exits and looks back, our gazes clashing. "We're not finished here." He swiftly leaves the house with Daniella scurrying after him, papers falling out of her satchel.

"What did he just say?" I whisper to Harrison.

"We're not finished here." His eyes linger on Daniella's backside while she exits the house as fast as her sky-high heels will take her. I snap my fingers in his line of sight.

"The other thing. The thing Lorenzo said in Italian."

"Gatta randagia? I think he called you a mangy cat."

Nonna makes a tut-tut sound. "Don't mind Renzo, he's unhappy with me." She collapses on the couch where Daniella was sitting.

I look over at Harrison and mouth, ‘What should we do?'

Harrison shrugs before motioning for me to sit in the chair across from Nonna. I wipe my hands on my shorts before I lower myself into the tufted chair. I can't believe I blurted out that I would take this house. I need to find out if she'd be willing to rent it for the summer.

"Signora Rossi, I'm sure I cannot afford to buy this place from you, but would you be willing to rent it out?"

She glances at me, her eyes clouding with worry. Her gnarled hands twist in her lap as she looks out the open window. I'm positive she's about to tell me ‘no' when a dove flies into the closed window to the left of the French doors. Harrison screams like a little girl and crouches down behind the couch.

"It's just a bird, Harrison. It flew off."

"I hate birds," he whimpers.

"Un segno," Nonna says.

"Un segno?" I repeat. Chills zip down my spine. It's just like in the movie, except the bird poops on Frances' head. But I'll take a bird hitting the window over being pooped on.

"Nonno Rossi has sent a sign." Nonna raises her clasped hands to the ceiling.

"A good sign?" I scooch toward the edge of my chair.

"Birds in the house are bad luck. You being here protected this house. Un segno."

"Un segno," I repeat slowly.

She unclasps a necklace from around her neck and hands it to me. "For you."

I hold the gold horn-shaped trinket in my palm. It's warm and heavy. "Oh, I can't take this. It's beautiful, but it's yours." I try to give it back, but she ignores my outstretched hand.

"The golden horn wards off bad luck—è una tradizione Italiana. You stay—put on." She waves at me.

My eyes dart to Harrison, who shrugs.

"Grazie," I whisper, clasping the necklace around my neck. "How much is it to stay here at the Villa Rossi?" I cross my arms over my chest and hug myself. The nervous energy humming through my veins is almost unbearable.

Signora Rossi shakes her head. "No, no…this is not the Villa Rossi. This is the guest house. The Casa Rossi. The villa is up the hill. I live there now since Nonno passed away, dio benedica la sua anima." She crosses her chest.

I swallow. This is the guest house? "Signora Rossi, I appreciate the offer, but—"

"How many bedrooms is it?" Harrison jumps in. I gape at him. Shouldn't he be hiding from birds?

"Five bedrooms and baths."

I shake my head. I'll never be able to afford a place this big, despite it being the guest house. "No, too much. No, sorry, Signora Rossi." I stand up to leave.

"Un momento, per favore." She holds up a hand. "Wait, please. We need help with reservations and to help at the store. Amministrare. You help with our turisti, sí?"

"Oh Signora Rossi, I don't speak—"

"Sí, lo prenderà," Harrison speaks over me.

"What did you just say?" I hiss at him.

"I told her you'd take it."

"Harrison! Mi scusi, Signora Rossi." I grab his arm and steer him toward the hallway. "I don't know if you realize this, but I don't speak Italian!"

"You'll learn. Weren't you telling me last night you wanted to be adventurous? Well, here's your chance. Grab the bull by the horns, Summer, and take it!"

I bite my bottom lip. He's right. There's a reason I drunkenly booked a trip to Italy. I sensed something was missing from my life. But this is crazy.

I look around the room, my heart galloping in my chest. What other segno do I need?

Harrison grabs both of my arms and gently squeezes. "Don't get cold feet on me now, Summer Andrews."

"Ha, easy for you to say, you aren't upending your life on a whim."

"If it helps, I think it's really cool what you're doing. A little nutty, but cool." Harrison's smile is contagious.

"Can you help me barter a good rental price? And…" I bite my thumb, my brain whirling with panic. "Let's just say for the summer. I have two weeks of vacation time left and then hopefully I can convince my boss to work remotely. I don't know, I'll figure it out."

Harrison releases my arms and holds out his fist for a bump. "As long as I can come back and visit."

"Deal."

We walk back into the living room. Nonna Rossi hasn't moved from the couch. She wistfully looks out the open doors at the beautiful view.

Harrison clears his throat while I fidget behind him. I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm staying in Italy for the summer and perhaps…beyond that? I don't know, I can barely think past today. My knees shake. "Signora Rossi? We'd like to present our offer."

"Sí, sí, sit, per favore."

We both sit in the chairs opposite her. I run my palms along my thighs, thinking about the hell I'll catch from Cara. Oh God, I haven't even thought about Barbara. There's another phone call I'm dreading.

"Signora Rossi, Summer would like to stay in the house until August in exchange for upkeeping the house and yard."

My jaw drops open as I swivel toward him. "Are you nuts?"

Harrison ignores me. "She can work…amministrare. Help with your turisti. She will need a small salary to pay for expenses like food. Weekends off so she can…eat gelato."

"Oh my God, Harrison," I groan. "Nonna Rossi, excuse my friend, he means well. You see, I came to Italy kind of by accident. I was on a bike tour and injured my hand. I'm not ready to leave yet because…I'm looking for something."

"What are you looking for?" she asks.

"I'm…I'm not sure." My fingers tremble as I run them through my hair. "Have you seen the movie Under the Tuscan Sun, by chance?"

She scrunches her eyebrows together and shakes her head. "Non capisco."

"She doesn't understand." Harrison sighs. "I'm a little lost as well, just FYI."

I grab the pillow from behind me and hug it to my chest, leaning forward. "I know this sounds crazy, but when I find it, I'll know. If you could please give me a chance. Pay me enough so that I can afford to live here and buy groceries. I understand I'll have to work weekends, but perhaps I could have a few days off once in a while to wander Tuscany."

Nonna Rossi studies her aged hands before she smooths back her chignon. "I do not know."

Harrison looks at me impatiently and huffs. "If you're not going to say it, then I will. She's looking for love. True love. The kind that happens once in a lifetime."

My cheeks heat and I want to smother him with the throw pillow. I give him the throat-slicing motion before I return my attention to the old woman.

Nonna's piercing blue eyes connect with mine. The lines in her skin etched so deep it's almost impossible to notice her eyes crinkle. "I too moved to Tuttoscano to find il mio amore."

"She moved to Tuttoscano to find her one true love," Harrison whispers.

"Nonno Rossi almost ran me over with his bicicletta when I came out of the grocery one morning, pazzo bello." She smiles wistfully and wipes a tear from her eye. "That's what I would call him. Pazzo bello, my crazy handsome. He wasn't supposed to be in town that day. His papà sent him on an errand to fetch medicine for his donkey. If that vecchio asino hadn't gotten sick, I would have never met Luciano Rossi, the love of my life."

Smiling tenderly, I place my hand over the gold horn at my neck. I can feel the love and affection she has for Nonno as if he were standing right here. Sitting with her, reminiscing, reminds me of my Grams and how much I miss her.

"Signora Rossi, the house?" Harrison gently pushes.

"I do not know the pay, but we will make it work, sí? You find your amore." She taps the cushion with her finger and smiles. "Un segno, sí? Benvenuti nella Casa Rossi."

Excitement fizzes in my veins. "Did she say welcome to the Rossi house?"

"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Summer." Harrison grins. "You just moved to Italy."