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Chapter 17
Olivia
“Youarehilarious!”Sandyhowls at me when I’m at their apartment later, after seeing Mrs Peabody. “Let me get this straight. You told her you had to think about a trip to Europe!”
“Yes. Well. I had to check my passport was still valid. And I had to check with you guys first that it was going to be alright to leave Contessa with you while I’m away.”
“Of course, you ninny. Oh, Livvy, how exciting,” Desmond sings in his deep throaty drag-queen voice. “Italy. Tuscany. Romance. Wine. Firenze.” He takes a breath then breathes seductively, “Gianni.”
“Stop right there, both of you,” I say as sternly as I am able. “Nothing is going to happen. This is a business trip. I am a courier for Mrs Peabody. And that is all.”
“Okay, Olivia. Someone will be at the airport to meet you. Ciao.” Gianni hangs up before I can say anything.
I put down the phone on my bedside table, processing the feeling that I’m being pushed around. It’s like I don’t have a say in what’s going on. But come to think of it, I don’t. I am an employee of Mayfair & Lewis. My boss is Gianni Moretti, and I am the courier for one of our clients. I vacantly scan my bedroom thinking about what to pack. I am required to fly to Italy, business class and stay at El Hotel Grande, downtown Florence. And I am stressing, big time, about what to take.
Earlier, I was stressing over leaving Contessa with the boys.
“Listen, Olivia, she will be fine. She won’t even miss you,” Sandy says which makes me want to cry. “I mean, of course, she’ll miss you, but we all know that she loves us the best, don’t we Contessa, darling.” He smooches his cheek up against hers. I have to admit she was doing a very good job of pretending to like it.
Getting on the plane was harder than I thought. I had to dig deep to remember how to travel. Panic set in at the departure gate and I almost bolted for the exit. People do this all the time. I used to be able to do this. What happened? When did I lose the ability to get on a flight anywhere?
The flight is boarding. No turning back now.
It’s amazing how relaxed I feel now at thirty-five thousand feet up in the air, cruising at a land speed of a gazillion miles an hour. It might have something to do with the pre-takeoff champagne, that just kept coming, and the valium, courtesy of Desmond. He kindly stepped in when he registered hysteria as the airport-bound taxi was due to depart.
“I can’t go,” I say, properly panicked. “What am I doing? I feel sick. I’ll call Mrs Peabody. She’s going to have to get someone else to get her painting.”
“Take this,” said Desmond forcefully. “But not on an empty stomach and definitely avoid alcohol,” were his almost final words as he threw me bodily into the back of the cab and chucked in my pull-along case after me. His actual final words were, “And, for heaven’s sake, have a good time!”
I think he was wrong about the valium. I’m having a very pleasant flight and possibly an out-of-body experience. The seat next to mine is empty, thank goodness, so I don’t feel any obligation to chat. Within minutes into the flight, I’m out cold and don’t know anything until we’re almost touching down in Roma.
“Thirty minutes until landing, Miss Morgan,” the friendly flight attendant says placing a breakfast tray on the mini table attached to my armrest. “Tea or coffee?”
I’m pinged out of my valium-induced daze at Rome airport, as I try and make sense of the information board which is flashing red and green. All hell has broken loose. Some flights have been canceled due to industrial action and my onward flight to Firenze has been re-routed to Bologna.
My fuzzy brain is functioning just enough to know that I should probably call someone. Or send a message. I check my phone. There’s airport Wi-Fi so I find a quietish corner and message Gianni. He calls me back straight away.
“Olivia. Here’s what we are going to do. I will come to Bologna airport. No problem. I am close. Less than an hour, okay?”
“Oh, you don’t have to Mr Moretti, I can take a bus or…”
“No. I insist. I feel responsible for you in my country, so I will be there when you arrive. Ciao Olivia.” He didn’t wait for me to protest. He just hung up.
This is going to be awkward, I decide, as I find the departure gate for Bologna. Gianni is picking me up. I should be more jittery than I am, but the valium is still doing its job. But by the time the plane touches down in Bologna, adrenaline has overridden the sedative and I’m nervous about seeing my boss. I try and remember my mantra, but my synapses are like scrambled eggs.
Bologna airport is small and the queue for immigration short, so I am out in the arrivals hall pulling along my compact wheely case and obsessing about what my hands are doing. I fumble with my passport putting it away where I hope to find it again and find a spot with a view of the exit to wait for Gianni.
I watch arriving passengers coming out of the sliding doors, carrying bags, and pushing airport trolleys into the arms of loved ones who are there to greet them. I’m feeling a bit emotional witnessing tears of joy and hugs hello, but that could be my valium and Champagne hangover. A tear escapes down my cheek and I turn my head to see Gianni standing right in front of me. How did I not see him?
“Olivia. Are you alright?” Gianni asks with genuine concern.
“Hi! Mr Moretti. Yes. I’m fine. I’m just… a bit emotional…” Nervous laughter spills out. “But it’s not you.” I grimace, clenching my teeth, wishing I hadn’t said that. “It’s airports in general… Flying.” Gianni nods and smiles back.
“My car is over here. Not far,” he says, then he takes my case and steers me in the direction of the parking lot. We walk in silence. I don’t know what to say. I’m shy and wondering if he recognizes me yet. I’m guessing not. It starts raining.
“Okay, this is it,” Gianni says as we stop beside a bright red Ferrari. He pops the trunk and puts in my case. Then he opens the door for me, and I get in. Inside the rain drums gently on the soft roof of the convertible. It’s cozy and I settle into the smooth leather passenger seat. The engine purrs on the way out of the parking lot then roars as Gianni accelerates onto the freeway.
“I will take you to the hotel. I think it’s very nice,” Gianni says, breaking the silence.
