Tearing her gaze away from Gianpierre, Luciana took in her surroundings and drew in a deep breath as she fought tears. It was beautiful. It was tranquil. The ocean was a brilliant blue in front of them, and the building’s height and location provided a bird’s eye view of the small, quiet town as it sloped down toward the water’s edge.
Then, Luciana noticed the noise—or rather the lack of noise. There was a distant sound of traffic, but it was very distant, since mostly people walked in town. An occasional sound of laughter reached her ears.
“It’s so peaceful,” Luciana said, then picked Natalia up so that the little girl was propped on her hip. Through the entire tour, Natalia hadn’t said a peep. She’d been quiet as a mouse and had watched Gianpierre with her large, round eyes rather than take in the home. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you think you would like living here?”
The little girl took so long to speak that Luciana almost gave up on her saying anything. “Matri liked our home,” the little girl finally said as she wound her hand into Luciana’s hair.
“She did,” Luciana said, smiling as she gave the little girl’s belly a rub. “Do you remember what else she liked?”
The little girl shook her head no.
“She liked the ocean. She loved to look at it. Do you think that she would like the view from this balcony?”
The little girl’s gaze shifted to the ocean and she seemed to study it. Then, looking back at Luciana, Natalia nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Do you think she would like it if you got to look at the ocean for her?”
Natalia nodded again, and then returned her gaze to the ocean before laying her head on Luciana’s shoulder.
Luciana turned to Signora Rizzo, and in a quiet, soft voice she said, “We’ll take it.”
4
Gianpierre
“You sure you don’t want me to stay, capo?” Paolo asked.
“No, no,” Gianpierre answered, though he cast a worried eye toward the darkening sky. A heavy storm was rolling in from the ocean. “Your niece is having her birthday party tonight, yes? You go. I’ve got this.” There was only a little bit of work to do, and then Gianpierre would be able to call it a night as well.
Paolo clapped Gianpierre on the shoulder. “Se, Capo. Grazij.” Then, with a wave over his shoulder, he jogged out of the large courtyard. He didn’t make it all the way out before having to stop and talk to a matronly woman on her way in, though.
Gianpierre squinted in an effort to discern who the woman was as Paolo pointed a long arm in his direction, but her features were lost to him in the failing light. He watched as Paolo turned and left, rushing to beat the coming rain. In contrast, the woman Paolo had spoken to marched toward Gianpierre without any concern at all for the brewing storm. As she neared, Gianpierre finally recognized her.
“Bona sira, Signora Rizzo,” Gianpierre greeted her, wishing her a good evening. He didn’t ask her what her business was, trusting that she would get to it when she was ready. It had been three days since the unexpected showing of his apartment and he hadn’t heard anything else. He didn’t have a moving date, and he hadn’t even started packing. As for him and Luciana, she’d only been back to work one day, but it had been a very long day while they’d both avoided talking of the incident.
“Bona sira,” Signora Rizzo said, brushing her short wind-whipped hair behind her ear. “Is this an okay time to talk, Signore Romano?”
Gianpierre glanced at the sky, but if she was willing to talk to him in the growing nearly gale force winds, then he was willing to listen. Shrugging, he said, “Se, Signora. Should we go inside out of the weather?”
Signora Rizzo leaned so that she could see around Gianpierre and peered at the taped off hole behind him. To the side sat a tarp. Even though it was anchored under heavy stones, its unweighted edges flapped wildly in the wind. Without the tarp, the catacombs below would be in danger of becoming flooded by the coming rain. “I’m interrupting your work. Let me help you as we talk.”
Gianpierre took a breath in preparation to refuse her generous offer, but held his tongue when Signora Rizzo moved past him. Without waiting for a response, she put her large purse on the ground and set to work moving the large stones off the tarp so that the tarp could be moved. The fact that she was wearing high heels, a tweed skirt and snug dress jacket didn’t deter her at all.
Gianpierre jumped in to assist, and soon they were fighting with the airborne tarp as they maneuvered it over the hole. Signora Rizzo did an admirable job of holding it in place as Gianpierre made fast work of putting the anchoring stones back around its edges. Once that was done, he finished the job by sliding an angled rod beneath the tarp. The point of the rod tented the tarp upward so that the water would cascade off rather than making a pool of water that would eventually dump the tarp and all its contents inside the belly of the catacombs beneath.
Fat raindrops began to fall just as Gianpierre was finishing wedging the tenting rod between two rocks. Getting to his feet, he grabbed Signora Rizzo’s purse and hurried them both to stand under the covered walkway that surrounded the entire courtyard. Signora Rizzo’s gaze scanned the sixteen foot high stone archways, and her eyes crinkled at their corners as a smile pulled at her lips.
“I always loved old places like this,” she said, reaching out a hand to trace the face of the nearest stone pillar. “I am so happy that you and your brothers are restoring the Romano del Mare rather than letting her crumble.”
Gianpierre studied Signora Rizzo’s rapturous expression. It means so much to her. He had taken the Romano del Mare for granted. It had always been a part of his life, tucked away in the background. Over the years, it had become more of an afterthought than anything of importance, but, he realized, for the people who called Sicily their home, the Romano del Mare mattered. A lot. Seeing Signora Rizzo’s adoring gaze as she felt the ancient stones that made up the medieval one-time monastery was a humbling reminder to him that the brother’s decisions impacted lives far, far beyond just their own, and the work that they did to restore the Romano del Mare was a service to the entire region.
“Seeing how you look at her, I am happy as well,” he said.
Signora Rizzo turned her smile on Gianpierre, but then her eyes dimmed and her body stiffened as she transitioned into business mode. “Signore Romano, I understand now that with your many months of travel that you did not receive notice that the building’s new owners were moving to an owners model rather than a rental model. I am here to formally ask you if you would like to purchase the home that you have been renting. As you know, you have poured a lot of equity into the home with the various updates and the installation of a pool on the roof. It is equity that will be completely lost if you do not purchase the home for yourself. Even if you decide to later sell it, you will at least regain the value that you have already put into it.”
“I don’t understand. Luciana—the woman you brought to view the property—has committed to purchase it.”
Signora Rizzo flattened her lips and shook her head in a slow, sad no. “The bank refused her loan. I had to tell her today. She’s not approved for the purchase.”