Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 22)
Chapter 9 Part II
Cindy Bradford
“Let’s go Patrico; it will be your own Roman Holiday, just a few hours away.”
Those who knew Patrick would never have believed he was going home, with an almost stranger. Patrick could not believe it himself, but in a way it seemed like he had known her for years.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Come with me to the phone. I must call Stefano!”
Standing off to one side of the pay phone, Patrick heard her say “Buon giorno, Carmen,” although he didn’t understand any of the conversation after ‘Good Morning.” For a moment he was lost in thought, watching a swarm of people pulling luggage, boarding buses, hailing cabs and hugging loved ones. Suddenly Carmella’s voice brought him back as he took a long step to catch up with her and open her door.
“Stefano was already outside so I just told Carmen to tell him. Also, she will have a small lunch for us. We should be there by 12:00 or 12:30 p.m. depending on the traffic from here around Rome, but we will miss the worst of it,” she said as she pulled out onto the airport exit. “Now we are finally on our way.”
“Those are the smallest cars I have ever seen. They look like they came out of Cracker Jack boxes.”
“Yes, but they are quite good for Rome, if you can say that about any car for Rome. Rome is a terrible city to drive in; terrible traffic, no places to park, pedestrians everywhere. Everyone is manic. If you are going to be in Rome as long as you think, then you should buy a scooter and sell it when you leave. But walk when you can. That is the easiest,” she said as she swerved past a car that had taken to the shoulder.
“You certainly drive fast,” grabbing the handle on the door.
“That is why they build roads, my dear, and cars,” as she flashed her lights and passed another car.
Patrick looked back at the stream of cars, “Do you always drive like this?”
“Oh no! Sometimes it is much worse,” she said, laughing loudly. “Let us pull in here and buy a cappuccino for our drive.”
“That sounds good. I’ll get them. At the rate you are driving, we will have to drink fast,” he grinned at her.
“Extra espresso in mine.”
Back on the road Patrick said: “I’m a little nervous that Stefano will be upset that I am coming with you.”
“Darling, do not worry your Irish brain another minute. Stefano will be delighted. You will see. Do you not think I know this man to whom I have been married almost all my life?” she asked, and it was obvious to Patrick that she loved him as much or more now than as a girl of eighteen. “You will like Carmen as well, although you will understand her very little. Oh, but do you speak French?”
“No, I know a few words, but very few. It is like my Italian and Spanish. I took Latin in high school. I wish I knew Italian, but I plan to study it in Rome with my other courses. Does Carmen speak French?”
“Yes, it is her first language; Italian is her second. Her mother is French and her father Italian. Her parents worked for us before Carmen was even born. They are still with us. Enrico and Claudia are part of our family.”
“What do they do?”
“Enrico is Stefano’s right hand. He does everything. Claudia was our housekeeper for many years, but when Carmen turned seventeen, Claudia turned those duties over to her. She is a marvelous cook and she is teaching Carmen. Together they cook our meals three nights a week. Because Stefano and I both love to cook, we do the remaining nights. Carmen has a little sister Gigi, so we believe they need to be home together some. Family, that is very important in our culture. Look at the vineyards, Patrico. They are just beginning. The closer we get to our place, the more you will see. When you leave us you will see even more.”
“Does Stefano make red or white wine?”
“Both, but much more red; most of our wine is a blend of Sangiovese and Merlot. He makes some Chianti with a blend of our Sangiovese and Canaiolo which he buys from growers in various parts of the Chianti region. Our white is usually a Chardonnay/Pinot Grigio blend, much more Chardonnay than Pinot, probably about 70/30. I have not even asked you. You do like wine, do you not?”
“Yes, but I am really just learning. In college, during off season, we drank a lot of beer, but now I’m trying different kinds of wine and I find I like them all. I’m sure after a few months in Italy I will know much more.”
“I forget you are from the States. Our children start drinking wine quite young, and we think nothing of it.”
“I forgot to mention that the cappuccino was excellent,” Patrick said.
“Yes, we have the best. We are almost home, Patrico,” as they turned off the main highway down a much smaller road. This is all our land, but the villa is still over a kilometer from here.”
“It is truly beautiful, Carmella.”
“It gets even better,” she said, blushing with pride.
Pulling up to the villa, Patrick was awestruck. In front of him was a magnificent structure of muted brick and stucco. Six oval arches graced the front at the ground level with twelve matching, but smaller ones on the second level. From each flowed the most beautiful mixture of red, white and pink flowers Patrick had ever seen. The backdrop was a combination of rolling hills, olive trees, grape vines in perfect rows and a small lake. Beyond the main house were smaller bungalows with matching architecture.
Carmella began honking as soon as the manor came into view. Immediately, two women, who Patrick assumed were Carmen and Claudia, came running out. Soon everyone was hugging and kissing and talking at once. When Carmella introduced Patrick, they each hugged him without hesitation. Then from around the side of the house came a large, balding man with a barrel chest and a voice to match.
“Carmella, I have missed you terribly,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he whispered something in Italian, and she sank into his bear hug like a little girl.
Surely this is not Stefano, Patrick thought; this is certainly not what he had pictured from her description.
Bursting into his thoughts, Carmella called, “Patrico, meet my darling Stefano. I told you he was the most handsome man in the world, now did I not?” she said, kissing the burly man again.
Stefano smiled broadly and offered his hand to Patrick.
“You did, indeed, Carmella,” Patrick said, grinning.
Stefano laughed, heartedly and knowingly.
“My beautiful Carmella, she does it every time. She describes me and then brings people home and they do not know what to say, but their face says it all.”
“But you are handsome, my love.”
Patrick could tell she truly thought he was. He had not known this woman but twenty-four hours and he already knew that beauty to her was everywhere. She saw everything and everybody as a special creation, except maybe Stefano’s cigars.
“Sir, I apologize for intruding like this.”
“Nonsense, if Carmella likes you so will I, although there was that one cat I was not too fond of,” he teased. “It is Patrico, right?”
“Sure,” not knowing what else to say.
“Then you make yourself at home and stay as long as you like. I will show you to your quarters,” putting one arm around Patrick and picking up a suitcase with the other.
“I’ll take that,” Patrick said, reaching to take the suitcase.
“You have one, I have one,” Stefano answered, pointing to the other duffle.
Already Patrick liked this giant of a Teddy Bear man.
Upon entering the guest house Patrick found that it was as neat and lavishly appointed as he had guessed it would be.
“You get comfortable and do whatever you need. Then join us in the main house. Just come on in, no need knocking,” and Stefano was gone.