Italian Summer With The Single Dad

He slipped the pen back into his pocket. His mother-in-law, Lucia, had questioned why he was bringing an untested photographer all the way from England—‘Couldn’t you get someone from Naples?’

He’d told her that the decent people were already booked for the summer. He’d pointed out that Olivia was a native English speaker, which was perfect because their clients were mostly English-speaking. Besides, he’d added, wasn’t it the decent thing to do, to give a talented person a break? She’d agreed but she’d had a knowing look in her eye which bothered him. Maybe she thought that having Olivia to stay at Casa Isabella was going to change things. He could understand that in a way.

Turning the faded palazzo into an exclusive wedding venue had been Izzy’s idea—their dream project. They’d started on the interior renovations and then Izzy had found the original landscape plans in the attic. After that, she’d worked closely with the gardeners to restore the old pathways and formal beds, breathing life back into the neglected garden. She’d get so excited about the smallest thing: new shoots on old wood, some jaded creeper bursting into flower... He’d loved Izzy with all his heart. He missed her every day. But he didn’t appreciate his mother-in-law dissecting his motives for bringing Olivia here. It was a business decision. He needed a wedding photographer and Olivia was talented, professional and discreet. Plus, she was available. That was all there was to it.

When the bus finally came into view he rocked forward off the car and lowered his sunglasses, trying to ignore the little knot of excitement tightening in his stomach. After she’d agreed to come he’d phoned her a few times to discuss practical matters like getting her a computer. He’d enjoyed their conversations. He’d liked her enthusiasm, but talking to her, hearing the vitality in her voice, had made him realise how jaded he felt. He was married to the business, worked like a dog, but he didn’t feel fulfilled. He felt restless.

When the bus pulled in and Olivia bumped down the steps with her camera bag he almost didn’t recognise her—she looked so different to the way she’d looked at the wedding. She was wearing blue sneakers, faded jeans and a white top which was slipping off her shoulder. Her hair was twisted into a loose knot and most of her face was hidden by a very large pair of sunglasses. The sight of her made him ridiculously happy. He had to fight the urge to pick her up and swing her around. Instead he held out his hand. ‘Olivia! Welcome to Ravello.’

She pushed her sunglasses up and stretched her hand to his. ‘Zach! It’s so nice to see you, and please—call me Liv. Everyone else does!’

‘Okay, Liv.’ He smiled. The sunlight catching her eyes made them look lighter than he remembered, like amber, and for the first time he noticed the darker ring around the edge of her irises. When he realised he was still holding her hand he let it go quickly and reached for her camera bag. ‘How was your journey?’

‘It was great, although I can see how Michele got hurt. The roads here are challenging, and as for the way people drive—’

The bus driver set down a modest suitcase and another big camera bag. Zach handed him a tip then picked up her other bags. ‘You see a lot of dented cars around here, that’s for sure! Is this the only luggage you’ve got?’

‘I travel light.’ She widened her eyes. ‘Except for the camera gear!’

‘I suppose it’s just as well...’ He motioned to his car.

‘Nice!’ She walked over, ran her fingers over the silver paintwork. ‘It’s not even dented!’

She was teasing him, laughing, and he couldn’t help laughing too. ‘I don’t get out much.’ He put her bags in the back and opened the door for her. ‘Ready?’

‘Absolutely!’ She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes and beamed.

She felt the sun warming her face as Zach drove them up into the hills. It felt so good to see him again. As the bus had pulled in, the sight of him waiting for her had set her heart going—she’d been glad of her dark glasses. He’d looked handsome at the wedding, but today, casually dressed in a pale blue shirt and navy chinos, he looked even better. More relaxed. From behind her sunglasses she took in the golden skin at the base of his throat, the nice shape of his mouth, the straight nose. His dark hair had been combed back at the wedding, but now it was blowing every which way in the breeze, dishevelled, touchable.

He glanced at her and smiled. ‘What do you think so far?’

Gorgeous.

She blushed, wondered if he’d noticed her checking him out. She turned to look at the view. ‘It’s lovely, greener than I imagined and so warm.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up in Naples. I had a meeting sprung on me at the last minute.’

‘That’s okay—the bus ride was an education.’

His shirt sleeves were rolled back. It was hard not to notice his forearms. Tanned, muscular. She forced herself to concentrate on the view: slopes thick with sturdy shrubs and olive trees, a pair of donkeys in a paddock, tails flicking. She adjusted her sunglasses, glanced at him again. How old was he? Early thirties perhaps—at least six years older than she was—and married.

Widowed.

She wondered about his wife. He’d had so much to cope with: grief, a young baby and a business too. ‘I don’t get out much.’ Did he ever get lonely?

On a tight bend thick with trees he steered the car into a concealed entrance and stopped in front of tall iron gates set into a stone wall. Engraved on a simple plaque fixed to the wall were the words Casa Isabella.

He pushed his sunglasses up, turned to face her. ‘Isabella was my wife’s name—Izzy.’ She noticed the way he drew in a breath. ‘When we get to the house you’ll meet my mother-in-law, Lucia. She helps me with Alessia.’

Olivia sensed that she didn’t need to reply.

‘Lucia’s a strong woman, an incredible person, and I couldn’t have coped without her these past two years.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘She’s grateful to you for coming at such short notice but...she’s a little unsettled...maybe because this was Izzy’s home.’ He turned to press a button on the dash and the gates started to move. ‘I wanted to tell you, just in case you pick up a vibe...’ He met her eye again and suddenly he smiled. ‘I’m probably worrying too much. You’re really good with people—it won’t be a problem.’

As he slid the car through the gates she tried not to think about Lucia, the admirable but possibly hostile mother-in-law. Instead, she looked back at the gates closing behind them. ‘Do you need such tight security here?’

‘Not really, but we had a celebrity wedding last year—they insisted on gates.’

She wanted to know more, but she didn’t want to seem star-struck so she nodded and tried to look blasé as he drove them through a terraced vineyard and onwards through an ancient olive grove. Under the shade of the olive trees the light was blue-green, thick as gauze. She made a mental note to go back with her camera some time, try to capture it.

Emerging into the sunshine, the road continued through an area of rough pasture, then turned sharply to the right. As Casa Isabella came into view, framed by an avenue of tall cypress trees, she gasped softly. Whitewashed in pale ochre, roofed with weathered pantiles, the ground floor windows were tall and shuttered, arranged at identical intervals along the length of the house. In the centre, an imposing double stairway led to a vast oak door. She knew from the website that on the other side of the property, facing the sea, was a long, arched veranda opening out to the wide terrace where the wedding ceremonies took place. Beyond the terrace, over the stone balcony, and all around the property lay the enchanting garden.

‘Papà! Papà!’

Olivia watched Alessia run into Zach’s arms, watched him swing her up, cuddle her in. He rattled off something in Italian then lowered his voice, adopted a coaxing tone until Alessia turned dark eyes towards her. He cautioned gently. ‘In English, remember...’

Alessia licked her lips. ‘Hello, Olivia. Welcome to Casa Isabella.’ She smiled quickly then buried her face into Zach’s shirt, giggling.

Olivia stepped forward hesitantly. Photographing kids at weddings was one thing; conversing with them was quite another. ‘Hello, Alessia. I’m very pleased to meet you.’

Alessia jerked her head away from Zach’s shoulder and eyed her again, frowning a little.

Zach tickled her under the chin. ‘Do you remember Olivia from Uncle Lucas’s wedding? She took your photograph.’

Alessia began to writhe and giggle. Olivia took a few steps back. Watching Zach with his daughter, hearing the unfamiliar words pouring from his mouth so easily, was bringing her down to earth with a bump. She’d never thought about it before but of course he could speak Italian. He lived here. His wife had been Italian. Conscious suddenly of being the outsider, she turned away, hitched up the neckline of her top to cover her bare shoulder. Flirting, imagining—it had to stop here. He was embedded in a life that had nothing to do with her—a life she could never see herself being part of.

‘Nonna!’

Alessia’s cry broke into her thoughts and she turned to see an elegant woman walking down the grand hallway towards them.

‘Lucia!’ Zach shifted Alessia to one hip and held out his arm. ‘Come meet Olivia.’

As she drew closer, Olivia could see strands of silver in the older woman’s hair, sense the reticence in her slow smile. She was glad that Zach had warned her.

‘Welcome, Olivia.’ Lucia leaned in to air-kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming.’ Another kiss. ‘We are very grateful.’ She stepped back, eyes searching Olivia’s.

Olivia smiled. ‘No, I’m the one who’s grateful!’ She couldn’t read Lucia’s expression and it was unnerving, so she tried to visualise the older woman as a reluctant wedding guest facing the camera. She’d found the trick to getting people on board was to be bubbly, to distract them in some way, so she stepped into the middle of the wide hall and looked up at the glittering chandelier suspended from the ceiling. ‘This is astonishing!’

She’d been so mesmerised by Zach and Alessia that she hadn’t properly looked at her surroundings, but now she took it all in. The patina of the wooden floor beneath their feet, the chalky yellow walls, the twin gilt-edged mirrors hanging over the console tables positioned on either side of the grand door. Beyond the vestibule where they were standing the floor of the wide inner hallway was laid with pale polished stone. The walls were hung with paintings and below the paintings there were more console tables, and occasional chairs.

When she finally looked round to smile at Lucia she wasn’t faking her delight. ‘It’s so beautiful... Italy... Ravello! This house...everything! I’m over the moon!’

Lucia was looking at her with wide eyes and at the edge of her vision she could sense Zach stifling a laugh. Perhaps she’d overdone the enthusiasm, but then Alessia suddenly wriggled out of Zach’s arms and came to stand by her side. She looked up, took a deep breath and said, ‘This is as-ton-ish-ing!’

As Lucia and Zach burst out laughing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Never had she been so grateful to a child in all her life. She looked down at Alessia and grinned. ‘I’m so glad you agree!’

Casa Isabella really was astonishing. As Zach showed her around, Olivia could feel herself falling in love with it. The rooms were large and airy, high-ceilinged, flooded with light. The décor was a mixture of antique and contemporary. What she liked most was that Casa Isabella felt like a home—a big home certainly, but every space was inviting.

Outside on the terrace, the view over the grounds to the sparkling sea took her breath away. She wanted to explore the garden straight away, but Zach said they weren’t finished inside yet. He led her back inside and along another wide hall on the ground floor.

‘Your rooms are along here.’

‘Rooms?’

‘Of course! It’s a small suite, a bit rustic—we haven’t got as far as renovating this part of the house yet—but I think you’ll be comfortable.’ He opened a door off the hall. ‘The kitchen’s here.’

She stepped into a small, high-ceilinged room. It might have been a laundry room once, but now it was equipped with a fridge, a kettle, a two-ring hob and a microwave.

He smiled. ‘It goes without saying that you can eat with us whenever you like...’

She tried to imagine eating dinner under Lucia’s watchful eye. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m sure your family time is precious.’

His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was about to say something but then he stepped back into the hallway and opened a set of double doors on the opposite side. ‘The rest of the suite is in here.’

She stepped through a small lobby and into a large comfortable sitting room. In one corner there was a desk with a computer and hard drives, but the rest of the room was set out for relaxing. A sofa and chairs were loosely arranged in front of a marble fireplace, lamp tables and other occasional tables scattered in between. The French windows overlooking the garden were open, white muslin curtains lifting in the breeze. She gazed at the view, all smiles. ‘This is lovely.’

‘It’s a doer-upper, but I’m glad you like it. The bedroom’s through there, and there’s an en suite bathroom—it’s old-fashioned but it works.’

She pushed open another set of doors and smiled again. The bedroom was spacious. The walls were whitewashed, yellowing in places, but the effect was charming. A huge antique bed was made up with white bedlinen, a blanket folded over the mahogany footboard. She noticed that her suitcase had already been brought in and left on a rack between a large wardrobe and a large chest of drawers. Everything in the room seemed large. She peeped into the en suite bathroom and smiled again. Claw-foot bath, huge porcelain sink and a separate shower recessed so deeply that there was no need for a screen.

She turned around. ‘It’s lovely, Zach.’ The dark serious eyes she’d seen in the car had been replaced with twinkling blue ones and she was glad. Perhaps now that she’d cleared the hurdle of meeting Lucia he would relax. ‘I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this—I mean, a whole apartment to myself?’

‘You’ll need somewhere to hide from the mayhem.’

She sat down on the bed and gazed around the room. ‘Is that what it’s like?’

‘It can get crazy sometimes. We’ve only got fifteen guest bedrooms, but we’re filled to capacity every weekend and, as you know, weddings are demanding. There’s all the coordination beforehand, then when the wedding party arrives it’s busy. There’s always an army of beauticians and hair stylists in tow, then caterers, florists—you know the score. After the wedding we have to keep going. Breakfasts, checking out the guests, arranging transport, room cleaning, maintenance, then it begins all over again.’

‘Do you ever get time off?’

‘Not much.’

She ran her hand over the quilt, felt its silky cotton softness. Eight-hundred thread count.

Nice.

She looked up, found that he was watching her. Little butterflies started up in her stomach. ‘So, why put yourself through it? Weddings, I mean. You could run yoga retreats instead—far less demanding!’

‘Lower income too—this place costs a lot to run.’ Suddenly, his eyes took on a faraway look and he turned away, walked to the window. For a few moments he gazed at the view. ‘Actually, it’s not about the money. It’s because we fell in love...’

Silhouetted against the window, he cut a lonely figure. Olivia felt a shiver travelling up her spine, an urge to go to him, but instead she folded her hands in her lap.

‘When we came to view this place we’d been looking for a going concern, a boutique hotel—something that we could just take over. But then this place came up. It was in a bad state. The interior was shot, the garden was a jungle. Everything was wrong with it, but it had good bones and as for the location... I remember we stood out there on the terrace as the sun was going down and it was romantic.’ She could hear the smile in his voice, his evident fondness for the memory. ‘Then Izzy looked at me and said, “We should turn this into a wedding venue.” It was an inspired suggestion... I bought it the next day.’

Olivia imagined standing on the terrace with Zach, a fiery sunset over the sea, his body warm and close...but that was Isabella. He was in love with Isabella, he’d made his vows to Isabella, built a life and a home with Isabella.

Suddenly, he spun round and smiled. ‘Impressive speech about gratitude, by the way. Not at all over the top.’

She could feel the warmth in his smile, felt that they really were becoming friends. She pulled a face and laughed. ‘I was trying to be amenable. At least Alessia appreciated my performance.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, thanks for that. As-ton-ish-ing is going to be her new favourite word.’

‘Well, it’s a good word.’ She got to her feet and joined him at the window. ‘It sums up Casa Isabella perfectly.’

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