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CHAPTER SEVEN – MILA – Cagliari, Italy
After taking the thirteen-hour ferry ride from Naples to Cagliari, I take a bus to the little villa where I’ll be staying. It only took a week to make up my mind to come here. Uncle Alfonso was not happy with my decision, but Aunt Leona convinced him of the importance of moving on with my life.
Of course, I didn’t share anything about my plan to get close to mafia man, Alessandro DeLuca, to learn more about my husband’s and daughter’s killers. I only shared that I wanted to take a little vacation to the island and act like a tourist for a few weeks.
“Here’s your key and some pamphlets about the villa and the businesses in town,” the young lady says, handing me some brochures.
I accept them, smile, and say, “Thank you. Um, I understand there are bus tours given of the city?”
“Yes, they start promptly at nine-thirty, one, three-thirty, and the last one is given at seven.”
“What do you recommend I do for entertainment while I’m here?”
“If you’re into historic sites, you may want to visit the Cathedral of Santa Maria, Bastione Saint Remy, and the Roman amphitheater. You can tour the mountains, visit the beaches, or ride the sailboats to enjoy the sea. It’s all up to you. These pamphlets will give you a variety of options,” Giana, according to her nametag, says.
“What about nightlife?” I ask, flipping through the pamphlets.
I already know where I’m going and have the details, but I want to see if I can glean more information that I may not already be privy to.
“There are many great clubs, but the best one is Calore.”
“Oh? What makes it so great?” I ask.
Giana leans in towards me conspiratorially and smiles. “Besides the fact that the club owner is the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, Alessandro DeLuca has poured billions into making the club a party paradise. I hear that if you can catch the eye of the owner and he decides to make you his guest of the night, there’s no expense he won’t spare on making it the best night of your life.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’m looking for that, but thanks. I just want to have a bit of fun while I’m here.”
Shrugging, she says, “Oh, well. If you’re interested, check it out. He’s there every Wednesday and Thursday night.”
“Thanks for that.”
I finish up with her, so I can check out the apartment I’ve rented for my three-week stay. I hope I won’t need to be here that long, but I’m prepared for whatever it takes.
Outside in the bright afternoon sunshine, a golf cart is waiting to take me to the condo. Once there, the driver assists me with my bags and drops them off inside the living area.
“Thank you,” I say, tipping him ten euros.
As I close and lock the door behind him, I'm sealed in silence. Everything beyond that door disappears. The only sounds I hear are the silent hum of the refrigerator, the rolling of my suitcase wheels, the soft clicking of my heels against the ceramic tile floors, and my thoughts, always my thoughts.
I pull my bags into the tiny bedroom and push them against the wall. The blinds in the bedroom are open, giving a beautiful view of the sea beyond. I walk to the double closet doors and check out the space. It’s little but sufficient for my needs.
A loud sigh propels me to return to the living room, where I take in the combo living and dining space. A large picture window is positioned beside double glass doors leading to a balcony. Cream Roman shades are drawn, and a beguiling view beckons to me.
Cagliari sits on the south coast of the island of Sardinia. I can see the sea and the city from where I stand. Boats are bobbing up and down on the water in the distance, reminding me of little toy boats the kids in the park near my old house used to play with.
The briny breeze greets me as I fling open the doors, and the laughter from below wafting in the air spikes my curiosity. I step to the balcony's edge and look down onto the beautiful Poetto Beach.
I sigh and close my eyes. This would have been the perfect place for Carlo, Zoe, and me to vacation in another lifetime. Funny, I’d never heard of Cagliari in Sardinia before the death of my little family.
Tears prick my eyelids, and I don’t try to fight them as I have done so many times. For a moment, I let them have their way, etching out their story on the planes of my face.
But then I angrily swipe them away, refusing to allow my emotions to pull me under. Refusing to believe that my daughter no longer inhabits this planet that I walk on.
Strength.
That’s what I need to see me through this mission.
Angry strides push me to turn my back on the beauty I see, taking me back inside and slamming the door shut on the sights and sounds of the alluring city.
