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“That is known as the curse of Estancia Valentini?”
My mamma nodded her head slowly and looked at me with wide eyes.
“What happened to the other half of the family fortune?” It had to have been astronomical wealth if half of it bailed out the finances of an entire country.
“No one knows.”
“You don’t think Papà’s accident…”
She shook her head and then patted my hand and winked. “He saw the error of his ways many years ago, and there was never talk of Matteo inheriting again.”
Despite my mamma’s protests, I didn’t return to university that semester. Instead, I promised I would the next.
My father’s recovery was slow and painful, both for him and for us. He was terribly depressed to the point where he had little interest in anything. Each morning, my mother and I would get him into his wheelchair and take him out to the terrazza so he could look out over the vineyards. Nonna Bella would make his favorite pastries for breakfast, but more often than not, he said he had no appetite. I was terribly worried about him, as was my mamma.
The police investigated my father’s accident, and like with the thefts, they didn’t come up with a theory as to what had happened or any suspects.
Without his oversight, wine sales were faltering. I was in a state of constant worry over him, as well as the future of Valentini. While I didn’t talk to anyone about it, I was also worried about Mylos.
There were reports of deaths of coalition soldiers every week. If it weren’t for my conversations with Lily, in which she assured me they’d hear immediately if anything happened to him, I was sure I’d lose my mind.
I’d always had a hard time keeping weight on, even when I was a little girl, but it got worse. Since Mylos and I were last together, I’d lost so much weight, my clothes were baggy.
“I’ve been looking for you,” said my mamma, coming into the winery office and finding me staring blankly out the window. I turned my chair to face her. “Your papà made a decision.”
“Okay.”
“He’s hired Paolo Viticcio to run the winery while you finish college.”
I groaned. “Paolo?”
“Sì,” she said, patting my hand.
I still hadn’t forgiven him for telling Mylos he was my fiancé. When I’d confronted him about it, he said it was all harmless fun. Something had stopped me that day from telling him how much Mylos meant to me, as if doing so might expose him to some other form of “harmless fun,” on Paolo’s part.
“Why him, Mamma? Why not Matteo?”
“Your father trusts him, Pia. His family’s winery is bigger and more successful than Valentini. He can help us grow, and then when you come back, maybe you and he—”
I shook my head. “I will not marry Paolo. You and Papà need to accept that and stop pushing us together.”
“We’ll see.” She stood and walked out. A few minutes later, Lucia walked in.
“What can I do for you?”
Lucia shook her head and covered my hand with hers. “The question is, what can we do for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re all worried about you, Pia. You can’t keep this up. You need help.”
“We can’t afford—”
“I’m not suggesting you hire someone, Pia. There are many here on the estate, in Val d’Orcia, even in your own family, who would be willing to lend support if you’d only let them.”
“I can’t take advantage—”
“Your family has been more than generous to mine for generations. I’m not the only person who feels that way. Most everyone who works here does.”
