I finally got Pia to accept that, since we planned to eventually marry, my money was also hers.
There was enough of it to do whatever needed to be done at the winery, with plenty left over to start rehabbing the cottages on the property to let to travelers.
The only one off limits was the farmhouse. I’d told Pia I would renovate it myself, with the help of my father, of course, and maybe even Wills.
I doubted my sister would have a complaint about spending several weeks in Val d’Orcia. Nor would my mum.
Shortly after I put forth the request, my father called to say they’d be on their way in the coming week and that mum had already checked with the countess, who had invited them to stay in the villa with her.
“What about the bombats?” I asked.
“Good name for them,” said my father, laughing. “Evidently, there is another house on the property that will suit them quite well.”
I wondered which one and asked Pia when my father rang off.
“Nonna Bella’s house. Unless you think that’s a terrible idea.”
“We should pay her a visit.” I pulled her into my arms.
Pia’s eyes lit up. “Do you think she’d welcome us?”
“I cannot say; however, my prediction is that she would like to make peace as much as you would.”
“Yes, well, maybe.”
Three days later, armed with the address that Decker had found for me, I went to the village with two things in mind.
First, I would see if Nonna Bella would be willing to see Pia and the countess. Second, I would pick up the ring that I intended to propose with properly.
I parked and walked through the village Pia and I visited so often. As I passed by what she and I jokingly referred to as “our fountain,” I stopped and closed my eyes, remembering how she’d looked the day she first spoke to me.
“You like to look,” she’d said.
Opening my eyes, I knew straight away where I wanted to ask her to be my wife.
I walked past the market merchants, who were busy putting away their wares. I turned a corner, took a deep breath when I reached the correct address, and knocked on the door.
“Hello,” I said to the woman who answered, hoping she spoke enough English to understand why I was there. “My name is Miles Stone. I’m here to see Bella Rossi.”
Moments later, the door opened wider.
“Mylos?” said the woman I’d only met once, over ten years ago.
“Yes. Nonna Bella?”
“Sì, sì, come in.”
I left an hour later with a very full belly and an equally warm heart.
As I followed my GPS directions to the jeweler, I though
t a lot about Rile’s words before he left. I knew what I had to do, immediately placing a call to Edge. Too late, I calculated the time.
“Ciao,” he answered in a groggy voice.
I laughed. “Sorry to wake you, mate.”
“No worries. How are you, Grind?”