Chapter 2
BENNETT MADE EYE CONTACT WITH HIS friend. “It would be best if Angelo kept his distance.”
Nico nodded. “I will see to it that he does.”
Angelo keeping his distance was as much as I could hope for. At the moment, I was doing my best to avoid thinking about the big man handling my luggage upstairs.
“He appears to have quite a temper,” Bennett continued. “When we arrived, we obviously interrupted an argument. He seemed rather agitated with you.”
“Bennett.” Nico’s face creased into a wide smile. “Like you, I was born and raised in the United States. I raised my family there as well. I understand your concern, but here in this gorgeous country we are less afraid to share our emotions. Angelo speaks loudly and with unrestrained gestures, yes, but he is kindhearted and loyal to me. He will do whatever I ask of him, even if he does not always agree. As will Gianfranco.”
As though summoned, the slim man stepped forward. Nico waved him back, and I was struck by the level of his servants’ attentiveness. Back home, Bennett maintained a staff of personal assistants, but he’d never tolerate this amount of in-your-face responsiveness. Bennett preferred to do things on his own as much as possible, and I wondered if Nico’s limited mobility now owed itself to years of dependence on others to complete simple tasks.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Bennett said, but the concern in his expression didn’t fade. Whatever we’d disrupted had been far more anger-filled than our host was letting on. Bennett kindly did not push the issue.
“Your trip up to my home was uneventful, I take it?” Nico asked as Marco returned bearing a tray with a pitcher of wine, fresh glasses, and a plate laden with cheeses and fruit.
“Thank you very much for picking us up,” Bennett said. Marco poured wine all around and set out small plates on the low table before us. Surveying his work, he gave a quick, smiling bow, and returned inside. “This is a beautiful country. Grace and I have been enjoying ourselves immensely.”
Bennett and I had been in Europe for two weeks and were set to depart for home tomorrow after spending the night here at Villa Pezzati. The first half of our trip had been devoted to touring France; the second week, Italy. The absence of responsibility, coupled with a change of scenery, had done wonders for my soul, but I found myself eager to be home again.
“My staff is at your service,” Nico said. He grabbed a handful of grapes and sat back against his chair’s plump cushion. He began tossing grapes into his mouth, one at a time. “Now, what can you tell me about our friends back home? There are not so many still living anymore, are there?” The question was rhetorical. He chewed his grapes thoughtfully, and mused, “You and I are getting old.”
To me, Bennett wasn’t old. Though in his seventies, Bennett kept fit and trim, and from the time I’d begun working for him at Marshfield Manor I’d been impressed with his sharp wit, his vigor, and his strength. I admired him, possibly even more than he realized.
“You remember Bill?” When Nico nodded, Bennett leaned forward to talk about an old school buddy who had recently relocated to Florida in order to launch a new hotel chain.
I let my mind wander as the two men caught up. We were surrounded by a vista of gorgeous green, rolling hills, and a scent that made me realize how hungry I’d gotten. I reached for a few morsels of cheese, took a sip of wine, and reminded myself to enjoy the moment. We would be going home soon, and this fabulous vacation—we’d spent more time playing hooky than working—would be over soon. As much as I missed Bootsie, my little kitten, and my roommates, Scott and Bruce—who were no doubt spoiling her rotten—this getaway had provided me precious time to think. I’d contemplated my recent foolishness in matters of the heart, Jack’s abrupt resignation, and what life in Emberstowne would be like now that Bennett’s stepdaughter was moving in.