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Samantha unloaded her newly purchased groceries from her backpack and stacked them on the counter of her kitchenette, taking a moment to enjoy the uneven but well-worn brick floor, which felt nice through her socks. She was pleased to see a grouping of olive oils and seasonings at the end of the counter; that would help once she was cooking her own meals.
She put her meat and cheese into the tiny refrigerator. While this hadn’t been quite the first-shopping-experience she'd hoped for, she'd learned a couple new words, and hadn't had to act anything out to make herself understood, so she’d take it. Still, she was looking forward to going again sometime soon, without Edo.
She carried her backpack upstairs and set it carefully at the foot of her bed. It was the same red backpack she had worn for her first day of college. The same backpack she’d loaded with her brushes and scrapers when she had packed up from her last semester — not the last semester of her degree, unfortunately, simply the last semester she had been able to complete. That had been a hard day, but she didn't regret her decision. She’d said goodbye to some dreams, but some things were more important than dreams.
Speaking of dreams... She looked around her once more, still not able to believe she was actually here. She was in the tower room, and there were little windows through these stone castle walls that were over two feet thick. There was a wooden staircase with a rope handrail leading from her bedroom up to a trap door that led out on the rooftop—the battlements, really—of the old tower.
She had gone up briefly before, but hurried up again now, filled with the same awe as before as she pushed through the trapdoor and stood looking out over Tuscany. Down to her left sat a church, a quaint country church of the kind postcards are made, with a tower and a bell—which she’d heard ringing earlier on the hour. The village huddled around and between the castle and the church, and beyond them stretched rolling hills down into the valley across which she could see the city of Florence with lights just beginning to come on. The air here smelled different—different trees, different soil, different clouds. The olive grove lay below her, with slender green and silver leaves rippling and flowing in the breeze. Olive trees. Olive trees in Italy.
Samantha threw her arms around herself and squeezed tightly, looking up at the clouds. “You'd love it here, Grandma. Do you hear all these birds? They’re singing for you. I'll feed some for you tomorrow.”
Samantha closed her eyes and listened to all the voices of birds she was not used to hearing; there were so many. She’d started noticing birds more while caring for her grandmother, because her grandmother loved them so much. She had learned to recognize and identify some by sight and even sound, but here she would have to start all over. Not that she minded. It was good to hear new birds when you were trying to start a new life.
Samantha opened her eyes and gazed once more out at Florence, which had more lights now as the sky slipped into evening. A new life, just waiting for her to figure out where to go and what to do. Starting over again—she ought to be used to that by now. It ought not scare her so much anymore.
A knock below drew her out of her thoughts, and she hurried down the steep wooden staircase, down the next flight of slightly less steep wooden stairs, across the kitchen, and over to pull open her heavy, gnarled wooden door. “Yes?”
Edo stood on the other side of the door, his dark hair curling in one lock on his forehead that she was tempted to smooth out. He looked more relaxed than he had earlier in the store. Maybe he was getting used to being home. “My mother sent me to call you to dinner,” he said. “So. Come to dinner?”
Samantha recalled how flustered he had been when the ladies at the market had been giggling about them, and she couldn't help teasing him. “Good thing you prefaced that with your mother's request; I might think you were asking me out.”
His look became more guarded. “Sorry, I don't date guests.”
She’d poked him too far, and she deserved that response. And it wasn't like she'd come here looking for romance. But she still felt her face going red, so she quickly turned back into her room. “I'll be right down,” she said, hoping he'd leave.
“You will? Do you even know where you're going?”
Samantha regained control of her features and turned back. “I’m sure I could find it.”
“Maybe, but could you find it before I've eaten everything? It's been four years since I've had my mother's food; I can't promise to leave anything.”
He was teasing her. Apparently he hadn't been too offended. She’d just have to watch her mouth so her jokes didn't get her into trouble. She’d spent too much of the last three years flirting with old men at bingo parties, and she didn't know how to interact with handsome men far nearer her own age. That's what happened when you dropped out of college early and associated only with those over the age of sixty. “All right, I'm coming.” She looked around, feeling like she was missing something. “Do I need to bring a gift or something?”
Edo looked surprised. “Traditionally, perhaps, but she will not expect anything. You're a tourist.”
Gut punch number two. He was on a roll. Samantha was a tourist, yes, but she wanted to be more than that, somehow. She wanted to belong. But that was silly; she wasn't Italian, she didn't speak the language, and she was planning to go sightseeing in one of the most famous cities in the world the next day—tourist, tourist, tourist. She nodded, looking around one last time. “All right, then, lead the way.”
#
EDO LED SAMANTHA DOWN three flights of stairs, past his parents’ apartment, past his own apartment, and past three more guest suites. There were eight total apartments in the Castello, aside from the large library, the formal dining room, and the commercial kitchen where his mother taught cooking classes for tourists who took a day trip from the city.
They were eating in the formal dining room tonight, a tribute to Samantha, though she probably didn't know it. Edo would've preferred to eat in his parents’ small kitchen, but he was determined to stay on his mother's good side at least through dessert, so he wouldn't say so.
He kept glancing back to make sure Samantha was following, and couldn't help wondering what this old castle looked like through her eyes. It was different for him this time than the last time he'd come home; knowing he would be staying this time had him looking at everything far more critically. If he needed to run this place as a business, he needed to know what others saw, and what they liked or didn't.
“What do you think?”
Samantha startled a little, and when she answered her tone was surprised. “Of what?”
Edo waved his hand in a grand all-encompassing gesture. “Il Castello Mio.”
Samantha got that glowy look again that she’d had on the drive earlier. “It's everything I’d hoped for,” she said.
“And what had you hoped for?”
She hesitated, biting her lip a little as if trying to decide what to say. “Well, it's beautiful, for one thing.”
Edo paused before the door to the dining room, and Samantha paused with him. “What about it is beautiful?”
She gestured widely the same way he had a moment before. “All of it. The texture of the old wood on the stairs, the stones on the walls, the ivy outside... I mean, all of it. It's just beautiful.”
Edo turned from her to push open the dining room door. Every time she’d said the word “beautiful” he’d had to make himself look away from that lip she’d been biting, which could also be described using that term. That was not something he needed to contemplate.
As soon as he pushed the door open, his father came hurrying over to greet them. Edo's mother still managed to beat him somehow, and got her cheek kiss from Edo and then Samantha as well. Samantha did not seem fazed by this at all, and when Edo's father also bent to kiss her cheek, she didn't react. Most Americans weren't quite so comfortable with people in their space; that had made things easier for Edo. He'd never liked people getting in his space. It was just awkward. Paola had been the exception.
Samantha drew back after brushing her lips to his father’s cheek, but his father turned his head and, in broken English, explained, “One kiss for old men. Two for young.” He tapped his other cheek. “I get two.”
Edo was about to pull Samantha away, but she just laughed as though old men flirted with her all the time. Edo knew his father was harmless, and he was totally devoted to Maria, but these days you had to be careful. Still, Samantha seemed fine. His parents would tell him he was just overreacting again. Samantha seemed perfectly cheerful as she kissed his father again and then followed his mother to the formal table covered in the ivory damask tablecloth Edo had always hated having to clean. Samantha seemed more comfortable here than he was.
Edo's parents had placed him and Samantha next to each other at the end of the large table, and they sat on either side of them. Maria sat beside Samantha and immediately began loading her plate with pasta. As soon as it was full, Edo held out his own plate — he hadn't had fresh pasta in far too long. He turned to Samantha. “You're about to ruin the rest of your food experiences in Italy,” he explained, “as you will find they all pale in comparison to my mother's cooking.”
Maria smiled, pleased, and loaded more food onto Edo's plate.
“It smells heavenly,” Samantha said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply above her dish.
“Mangi, Mangi,” Edo's father said as he let Maria fill his own plate. Edo didn't wait to be told again.
Silence fell for a few minutes, as they were all too focused on the food to talk, but soon Maria waved her fork at Samantha. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
Samantha finished her bite, then said, “I'd like to go into the city for a little sightseeing. I was hoping maybe you could explain the right buses for me to take.”
Maria's eyes lit up, and Edo saw it coming but could do nothing to stop it. “No need! Edo can take you and show you around.”
Samantha and Edo began protesting at the same time, but Maria waved them both into silence. “Edo is preparing to take over Il Castello Mio,” Maria said. “He needs to reacquaint himself with the places people want to see and the best ways to get around in the city. Many things have changed since he last lived here, and this is the perfect chance for him to relearn.”
There was nothing Edo could say to that. First, he had hoped to not have any guests for a week. Then he had hoped his parents might let him have one day to himself. Apparently even that had been too much to hope for.
Samantha looked back and forth between all three of her hosts. “But—I really... I mean, I came prepared to sightsee by myself—”
Maria waved off her protests as regally as a princess. “You are a guest of Il Castello Mio. We will take care of you.”
Samantha turned to Edo. “Really, you don't have to take me.”
Edo didn't even need to look at his mother to feel the warning in her eyes. “It's fine. What time were you wanting to go?”