Her eyes lit up when she spotted the instrument. “Maverick, do you play?” She approached the piano and slid her hand along the smooth exterior, touching the glossy finish. She moved to the bench and lightly pressed her fingers against the keys, exploring the whites and the blacks.
“No.”
“Then why do you have it?” She tested out the notes, as if she were checking that the piano was still in tune.
“Ask my interior decorator.”
I had a lot of priceless possessions in this house, but this seemed to be the only thing that truly impressed her. With a loving gaze, she stared at the keys and made love to each one with her fingertips. Gentle sounds filled the room, random notes that didn’t create a song.
I watched her head dip to observe the movement of her fingers, watched the way she instantly became immersed in the instrument, like she was about to perform on stage. Her eyes filled with innate joy, like this was the first time she’d felt happiness since her father passed away.
“Do you play?” It felt like a stupid question when I saw how attached she’d already become.
“Yes.” She hesitantly pulled her hands away from the keyboard and rose to her feet. “Can I play it sometime? When I’m rehearsing?”
The question seemed odd considering this was her home now, but my bedroom was right down the hallway so I could probably hear every sound she made. “This is your home now. Do whatever you want.”
We drove a golf cart to the factory a few acres away. The facility had workers that showed up every day, stirring the cheese in the big pots, melting the wax onto the cheese wheel, and professionals dating and storing the cheese until they were properly aged. They had to check in with security at the gate every day before they came onto the property.
Arwen was fascinated by everything.
I took her through the factory, showing her the different parts of the assembly. “Our cheese is native to Italy because we have special bacteria that is indigenous to the area. It doesn’t grow anywhere else in the known world.” I stood off to the side with her as two men stirred the cheese wheel that was forming in the center of the pot. “We inoculate our cows with it, and that produces the special milk we use to make the cheese.” We kept moving through the factory, seeing the different steps until we arrived at the storage room. Hundreds of cheese wheels were stacked high in their cubbies.
Arwen walked down the aisle and examined one at eye level. “This is humongous. Do people buy the entire wheel?”
“Yes. Mainly restaurants.”
“That must be expensive. It’s got to weigh twenty pounds.”
“It is expensive. They can range from two to four thousand euros.”
Even though she’d been rich all her life, her eyes still filled with surprise. “Wow…how long are they aged?”
“The minimum is three years. But we have cheese wheels that are ten years old. The longer they age, the more they’re worth.” I kept walking and headed to the very rear of the building, stepping inside the large office where I took care of the business.
She followed behind me, examining my oversize desk and the bookshelves on both walls. She picked up a book at random and glanced at the title, seeing that it was a manufacturing book about the cheese process. She turned it then looked at my mahogany desk. Behind it was a picture window with my three-story home in the distance. “How long has the business been in your family?”
“Longer than I can remember. At least ten generations.”
“Wow…even some of the historic wineries don’t date back that far. That’s amazing.” She studied my plain desk, seeing the closed laptop that sat in the center. There was nothing else on the surface besides a single pen. “You’re extremely organized.”
“Minimalist.”
When she looked out the window and admired the house in the distance, the sunlight blanketed her face perfectly, making those blue eyes shine like they were two orbs. With her arms across her chest, she stood there for nearly a minute before she turned away. “If you ever need any help, I’m happy to lend you a hand. I don’t know much, but I’m a fast learner and a hard worker.”
My business was self-sufficient. It worked on a tight schedule, and I oversaw the big things. My foreman was in charge of all the day-to-day stuff. I never expected her to be part of my world. “I have all the help I need.”
“Alright…the offer still stands if you ever change your mind.”
When we returned to the house, she turned to me. “You didn’t show me your office.”
“I just did.”
“Your home office.”
“I don’t see why you need to see that.” Or my bedroom.
Her nostrils flared like she was irritated by the comment, but she held back her rebuttal, being more compatible because I’d been nice to her. She swallowed her retorts and kept the peace instead of insulting me like I deserved. It was a diplomatic move for her. “I’m going to take a nap before I head out for the show.” She headed to the stairs. “I’ll see you later.” When she got to the point where she couldn’t stand me anymore, she made a good excuse to get away from me.