The Italian Matchmaker(120)

‘Then that’s settled.’

Coco was quick to spot an opportunity. ‘Can we be bridesmaids?’

Luca felt his spirits soar. His daughters approved of his choice. There was only one more thing to do.

‘Claire, I want to settle the money side without going to court,’ he said.

‘Okay. Girls, why don’t you go off and play? Daddy and I have some talking to do. Boring stuff.’ The girls ran off, chattering excitedly about their father’s wedding. Luca handed her an envelope. ‘Why have you put your sword away?’

‘Because I’m happy, Claire, and I want you to be happy, too.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, we have two beautiful little girls. We made them together. We might not have worked out, but we did something right.’

She opened the envelope and pulled out the neatly folded letter. He watched her read it. ‘Are you joking?’ she gasped.

‘Why? Isn’t it enough?’

She stared at him as if he had just handed her the world on a plate. ‘It’s more than enough. You’d be richer if you took me to court!’

‘I don’t want to take you to court and I don’t want to be richer. You deserve it. We were married for ten years. I spoiled you rotten. I can’t expect you to live with less than you had when we were married.’

She folded her arms. ‘Then it’s well and truly over,’ she said, trying to mask her sadness. ‘Were we ever happy?’

‘When Coco and Juno were born, we were the happiest two people on earth.’

‘She must be one hell of a woman to make you live over there.’

‘She is.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Ah, that’s the million dollar question.’ But his smile implied that he already knew.

Luca spent a fortnight in London sorting out his affairs and seeing the few friends who really mattered. With the help of his old secretary he answered the towering pile of invitations and letters that had accumulated over the weeks he had been away and put his house on the market. He telephoned Cosima every morning and every evening and with each day that passed his longing for her grew. He wouldn’t miss London and he wouldn’t miss the City. Those days were gone. He was embarking on a new life and the thought of it filled him with excitement.

He drove out to Italy in his Aston Martin, the roof down, the wind in his hair, thoughts of Cosima dominating his mind. He sang loudly to Andrea Boccelli and felt his spirits soar. In the midst of such beauty, in the face of such a positive future, he now understood why a certain thought had inexplicably popped into his head that night in his mews house. Darkness is only the absence of light. It was up to him to find the light inside him, and he had.

There was one thing he had to do before seeing Cosima. One vital thing upon which all his plans depended. With a suspended heart, he motored through the gates of La Marmella.





34



Cosima was taking an order on the terrace of the trattoria when Luca sauntered into view. When she registered his features, surprise caused her cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink, her face softening with affection.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to the old lady. ‘Fiero, would you take over!’ Fiero nodded, wondering why Luca carried a large basket of lemons.

Cosima melted against him as if his embrace was the only place in the world where she felt secure and at peace. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ he replied, kissing her temple. ‘You’re more beautiful than I remember.’

She pulled away and laughed at the basket of lemons. ‘You’re funny,’ she said. ‘Can I guess where they’re from!’

‘They’re from your farm.’

She frowned. ‘My farm?’

‘Yes, your farm.’

‘I never knew I had a farm.’

‘I’ve just bought you the most beautiful farm overlooking the sea. We’re going to cultivate lemons and grow old together.’

She picked up a lemon and put it to her nose. For a moment she looked bewildered. ‘But I swear these are from La Marmella.’

‘They are.’

She dropped the lemon back into the basket and made to speak but nothing came out. Her eyes widened and welled with happiness. ‘You’ve bought La Marmella for me?’

‘I’ve bought La Marmella for us. You’re going to be my wife and the future will be what we make of it.’

‘I don’t believe it! What about Manfreda?’

‘Of course Manfreda knew all along. She was just waiting for me to make her an offer so she could go and live with her son in Venice. She’s been longing to sell the place. You said I should plant a seed and watch it grow. Well, so I shall.’