“How did it go?” he asked as I got into the passenger seat and shut the door.
“Fine,” I replied. “He left me this.” I pulled the key out of my purse and passed it to him. “Do you have any idea what it’s for? Maybe an old chest? A secret room?”
Marco held it in his hands and examined it closely. “This is a very old key, Fiona. Too big for a chest, I think. It does not look familiar, but I was just Anton’s driver.” He handed it back. “Maybe Maria will know. Or her husband. Or Connor or Sloane.”
I slipped the key back into my purse. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not mention it to Connor or Sloane. We’re not exactly playing on the same team right now, if you get my drift.”
Marco started the engine. “I do. They’re not happy about the will. I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you, Marco. I appreciate that.”
He turned the car around, and we drove back down the hillside.
CHAPTER 9
LILLIAN
Tuscany, 1986
“The shed” was one of three stone buildings that each contained luxurious guest suites. Lillian and Freddie would occupy suite number two—a two-bedroom, two-level apartment with a kitchenette, two luxury bathrooms, and a sitting room. There was a small car park outside beneath an overhang, an olive orchard on a terrace below, and, from the kitchen window at the back, a magnificent view of the hilltop town of Montepulciano, high in the clouds. The suite also came with weekly maid service.
After the accident, Mr. Clark had dropped Lillian and Freddie off at the hospital, then handed Lillian a business card with a phone number for the winery’s shuttle service, which would pick them up whenever they were ready to leave the hospital.
Now, at last, after a long, exhausting day, they were finally settled into bed for the night.
Lillian lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling fan. “I feel like we were given a second chance today, and we can’t take it for granted.”
“How do you mean?” Freddie asked.
She wondered how he could not recognize the magnitude of what they’d just experienced.
“I mean”—she propped herself up on an elbow—“we could have been killed this morning. Do you know how lucky we were that those trees were there? If not for them, we would have gone straight over the edge and down five hundred feet.”
Freddie rolled onto his side, facing the other direction. “But it didn’t happen. We’re fine and it all worked out, so you shouldn’t worry about it.”
Did he think she was complaining?
“I’m not worrying,” she replied defensively. “I’m thankful.”
“Me too. But can we put it behind us? I really don’t want to think about it, Lil. Would you mind turning off the light?”
She stared at him for a moment, frustrated and dissatisfied, then said, “Sure.”
Lillian rolled over to tug the little chain on the lamp. As soon as darkness descended, she lay with her back to Freddie, listening to the sound of crickets chirping in the grass outside the open window. The fresh scent of the country air filled her with a strange, unfamiliar euphoria as she gazed out at the full moon.
She didn’t want to think about the accident either. It had been a terrifying, harrowing experience. But she did want to think about how lucky they were to be alive. What a wonder it was—that she was lying in a cozy bed with no broken bones, no skin lacerations or internal bleeding. Freddie’s nose wasn’t broken. He was just a little banged up. Lillian was comfortable and warm, gazing up at a dazzling moon and a bright, starry sky.
A fresh breeze billowed the white, gauzy drapes, and she let out a sigh, for the world was more beautiful to her than she had ever known it to be. Whether it was some sort of spiritual awakening brought on by the accident or simply the beauty of this place, she didn’t know. Either way, she was inexplicably overcome by the night’s magic.
Lillian began her first day of training the morning after she and Freddie moved into the shed. From there, it was an easy walk up a gravel lane through the forest to the main winery facilities, where the gift shop served as a reception area for tour guests.
The senior tour guide was a handsome young Tuscan by the name of Matteo. He was happy to have an American take over the English-language tours, which never went well for him due to his thick Italian accent and his tendency to speak too quickly.
After a week, Lillian felt only somewhat confident in her basic knowledge of the winemaking process, but Matteo assured her it would be adequate for the majority of tourists, who knew very little about it.