CHAPTER TWELVE
‘HOWCOMEYOU didn’t tell me?’
He paused, carrying her holdall over one shoulder as though it weighed nothing. ‘Tell you what?’
Olivia wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, that this place would be so—’
They looked around the entrance with its turquoise walls just visible behind dozens of paintings, each showing a different landscape or still life. The floor was large, marble tiles, and in the centre of the ceiling, a chandelier hung, ornate and—Olivia guessed—original to the history of the house. The exterior walls were a washed pink, and the garden was every bit as bright as the home suggested—exotic splashes of colour every which way.
‘Extra? Over the top? Garish?’
‘Perfect,’ Olivia said on a sigh.
‘I knew I liked you.’ Nonna appeared from behind them, unseen and unannounced, her slender frame elegant in black trousers and a lemon-yellow blouse. Her hair was coiffed into a bun, high on her head, and a daisy pin that sparkled with, Olivia presumed, real diamonds gave the hairstyle some fun and glamour. ‘Don’t pay my grandson any attention. He’s all about bland, modern aesthetic, whereas I prefer—’ She swept a manicured hand around the entrance.
‘Psychedelic vomit?’ Luca drawled with a grin, so Olivia suspected this sort of sparring was the norm for them.
‘Evidence of a life well lived.’ Pietra winked at Olivia then embraced her, kissing both cheeks. ‘I’m so happy you could join me. Come, I’ll give you a tour.’ She fixed Luca with a glare that was mock irritated. ‘You can put the bags in the room.’
He did a navy salute and Olivia couldn’t help chuckling to herself as she was led away by Pietra. The entranceway was really just a hint of the bright, joyous décor throughout. Each room boasted a bright colour scheme, cheerful and somehow cohesive. Despite the fact there could be, in some rooms, blue walls and green curtains, there was always an element that drew it together, such as a sofa with matching cushions that picked up the colour scheme across the entire room, so it was far less chaotic and more harmoniously happy.
‘It is a beautiful home.’ Olivia sighed as they finished the tour on a balcony with black wrought iron and an abundance of red geraniums, which tumbled from their terracotta pots towards the pool below.
‘Thank you. I am pleased you like it. In fact, may I make a confession?’
Olivia nodded slowly.
‘I was nervous this morning.’
‘Nervous?’ Olivia’s smile spread over her face. ‘Whatever for?’
‘That you might, perhaps, not like my home. That you might not want to come.’ Nonna’s eyes sailed across the countryside, fixing on Positano, sprawled beneath them. ‘You see, Luca’s all I have, and I couldn’t bear it if you and I were anything other than friends. There is not so long left for me, and I want to enjoy the time I have—’
Emotions burst through Olivia, chief amongst them grief that none of this was real. Nonna was offering genuine friendship and Olivia knew it would never really come to pass. Her fake marriage was almost over. After this weekend, Olivia was quite sure she and Pietra would never see one another again. She blinked back a rush of tears and focused on saying what Nonna obviously needed to hear.
‘I don’t think my marriage would survive if I did anything to alienate you. I know how much you mean to Luca.’ She couldn’t acknowledge the older woman’s reference to her mortality.
‘And he to me.’ Pietra reached out, tapping a hand on Olivia’s. ‘And you, carina.I never thought, after Jayne, that he would allow himself to love. It was such a bad time in his life, such a hard time for him all round, let alone dealing with her awful treatment. He pushed everyone away, even me, for a long time. I honestly believed I was going to lose him.’
Olivia regarded the older woman thoughtfully. ‘Was it really so bad?’
‘Oh, worse than you can even imagine. Every friend deserted him. My son swindled them all, you see. No, not every friend. There was one—Alejandro—who stuck by Luca. A man worth his weight in gold. But everyone else, including Jayne, turned their backs on him.’ She waved a hand in the air, as if to dispel the recollection of such an unhappy time. ‘And now, with you, he is happy. He is himself. Thank you.’
Olivia was overwhelmed—with emotions at the compliment, with guilt because it wasn’t real, and then with sadness because she wanted, more than anything, for all of this to be true. The thought struck her like a lightning bolt, but it didn’t come completely out of the blue. No, there had been precipitation and storm clouds building for days, suggesting that nothing was as it had first appeared, that everything had changed since their fateful wedding. There was also a jealousy—unmistakable now—for Luca’s first wife. A woman he’d once loved, loved enough to have been destroyed by. Loved enough to have sworn off love and relationships evermore.
‘And you are happy,’ Nonna continued, then winced. ‘Or you were, until I started to meddle.’
‘Not meddle.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘I’m just...touched...that you have such faith in us.’
‘Who that has seen you together could fail to have faith? And I must believe, you see, because soon I will be gone, and I do not want him to be alone.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Luca acts so tough, as though he doesn’t need anyone, but when I look at my grandson, I still see the little boy I used to bounce on my knee. I want the best for him, carina.’ Nonna’s voice was a little wobbly and she pulled away with a determined effort to laugh. ‘But enough of this. I am being too maudlin; Luca would not approve.’ She straightened, making an obvious attempt to appear relaxed. ‘You must go and explore the town while it is daylight.’ She waved a hand towards the exceptional view of Positano. ‘Dinner is served at six—I am afraid I eat unfashionably early these days; my medication makes me tired.’ Before Olivia could offer a comment of condolence, Pietra pushed on, ‘But it leaves you free to do something wonderful tonight, afterwards, no?’
Positano defied every single one of Olivia’s expectations. It was prettier than a postcard, with the buildings carved into the cliff-face, a tumbling mix of colourful houses, terracotta roofs and the backdrop of greenery that grew beyond it. She walked beside Luca as he traced the well-worn path he’d traipsed as a child and teenager, pointing out interesting titbits as they went, until finally they began to descend, steep steps carrying them towards the beach and the busy main street that ran parallel to it. Cafes spilled out with tables and umbrellas playing host to a mix of elegant locals and happy, loud tourists. The boutiques boasted beautiful clothes and homewares, so Olivia scanned each with growing interest as they walked.
‘Hungry?’
She only realised, as he asked the question, that she hadn’t eaten all day. Never a big breakfaster, she’d woken with butterflies in her tummy at the prospect of travelling to Nonna’s home, and the idea of remaining for an entire weekend. Of course, she shouldn’t have worried, and now that she’d met Pietra again, the nerves had abated, and her hunger had returned.
‘Actually, yes. Shall we grab something light? Nonna said dinner is served at six.’