The Italian's Unexpected Heir

“Sounds like a plan.” They set to work side by side.

* * *

Enzo honestly didn’t think he’d said much of anything important.

But Sylvie seemed to think differently.

For the next few days they worked together as a team cleaning, sorting and arranging. Sylvie had been extra nice to him. If he had sparked a memory in her mind, he was happy he’d been able to do that for her.

Trying to remember the past wasn’t his problem. He clearly recalled his past with his parents and the illusion of a happy family. The problem was he also remembered the carnage and agony after both of his parents died.

That stupid journal had compounded matters. Why had his mother kept it? If they hadn’t read it, no one would have been the wiser. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew the secret. At least some of it. And the guilt for keeping that information to himself was something that dogged his steps throughout the estate.

They’d hung the prints in the tank room. And then they’d moved to the main house, putting family photos back on the walls—some of his immediate family and others of their ancestors in black-and-white photos. By the time they had the villa fully decorated, Monday was over and they were exhausted.

Come Tuesday morning, they put back all the decorations in the barrel and tank room in the winery. There was only one room left. The wine-tasting room was part museum and part tasting space for visitors. It had taken Enzo days to take everything down and pack it away.

He glanced around at the bare, expansive walls that used to hold a collage of vineyard history. “I don’t know if we’re going to get this all done.”

“Sure we are.” Sylvie’s gaze followed his before returning to him. She sent him a reassuring smile. “We just have to hurry. We’ll put everything back where it came from. It will save us the time of having to figure out where things should go.”

He didn’t see where that would save much time. But there was no time to argue. So while he moved the squared black display stands with glass tops back into position, Sylvie opened one storage box after the next, unwrapping awards, novelties and plaques with descriptions of each item. Enzo wasn’t sure why he’d packed absolutely everything but every time he went to part with something, he found a reason not to do so. His sisters might want it. The item might be valuable. Vito might want some of it. There was always an excuse close at hand.

“I have some photos on my phone that might help us put the smaller things back where they were.” Sylvie pulled out her phone and placed it on the table.

Curiosity had him walking over and taking a look. There were a number of photos, not only of the wine-tasting room but also of the main house and the surrounding grounds. “Are you an amateur photographer?”

“Hardly. I just love this place and I wanted to be able to remember it. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No. Not at all.”

“I bet the young, ambitious you in these photos would have never imagined this day would come.”

As Enzo gazed at the old family photos, he heard his father’s voice in his mind: Life never goes the way you plan. It’s finding your way through life’s detours that’s worth the effort.

Enzo realized this was his detour in life. He just had no idea where it was going to lead him. First, he had to wind things up here at the estate and it was proving to be more complicated than he’d ever imagined.

“Enzo?” Sylvie was giving him a strange look. “Everything okay?”

“Um, yeah. Fine. Let’s get these things where they belong.”

And so they worked for a while in silence. He couldn’t believe she’d talked him into putting all of this stuff back. What was it about Sylvie that he was willing to do things he wouldn’t do otherwise?

“What do you think?” Sylvie’s gaze moved around the room. “Think we’ll get it done today?”

“Today? Do you have something you want to do tomorrow?”

She smiled and nodded. He knew that smile. She looked that way when she had a plan he wasn’t going to like, not like at all.

He pressed his hands to his waist. “Sylvie, what do you have in mind?”

“I thought we could head into Florence. I was thinking some flower arrangements and candles and maybe a wreath or two...or three would brighten up this place. The photos are a nice touch but the decor needs softening a bit.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t set your heart on it.”

She turned a serious gaze on him. “I’m not giving up on this. I’ll go to Florence alone if I must.”

Her words brought forth another memory. Enzo recalled his father standing in this very room saying to him, Never give up on those you love.