Kim was about to climb a mountain, literally and figuratively.
As she and Colette began their trek along the gray volcanic gravel trail upward to the crater of Mount Vesuvius, her thoughts were going a mile a minute.
Since she’d met Emilia and Antonio that day in Amalfi, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the Frenchwoman’s suggestion and the notion that with The Sweet Life she just might have something good on her hands, something tangible.
Something she could use as a first step to the rest of her life.
Weeks ago, back in New York in Natasha’s bedroom, while she and her friend planned this getaway to Italy, the thought of a different life had really only been a fantasy. But now, purely by chance, a source of change had fallen into her lap.
One that someone actually believed she could accomplish and succeed with.
Kim knew it was all a bit nebulous, but the idea was intoxicating all the same. Freedom and a future?
It was everything she’d ever wanted.
The thoughts were intense but they wouldn’t leave her. Natasha had said she needed to do something different.
How different to her old life was this: becoming a mindfulness guru/wellness Influencer?
There were worse career paths, and the photography side was definitely something she could get excited about. She could also perhaps finally put in practice a lot of what she’d learned in her business degree. On her own terms.
Maybe her parents had been right in forcing her to do that much.
Kim knew she had to think this through properly, though. Given the origin of some of the captions and inspirational quotes she’d already used to further her growing social media audience, she figured she needed to see if she could source the journal’s origins.
Since Valentina apparently worked for a local property maintenance company and didn’t know anything about Villa Dolce Vita’s owner, Kim had in the meantime called the agent through which she’d made her original booking.
In fits and starts, given the language barrier, she learned that the house once belonged to an English couple who had passed away many years before. The wife lived in the house alone after her husband died, and according to reports she’d been reclusive, keeping to herself and rarely venturing out.
The story was that she and her husband hadn’t been the best of parents and had become estranged from their children back in their home country. When they died, there was some issue with the title deeds, which made the house difficult to sell, so the couple’s only remaining relative—a grandchild—had taken over the villa and begun renting it out from afar in order to make some money.
The story was a sad one. Kim couldn’t imagine what it would be like being old and alone in a foreign country. She wondered whether that perhaps was the reason the widow had started writing? It made sense given the dual language element of the content.
Had Villa Dolce Vita’s former owner written down the things she’d wished she’d been able to change in her life? Were those words of wisdom her catharsis for the mistakes she’d made and the dreams she’d lost? Was the journal that had lately inspired Kim so much been borne from regret? The thought was possibly even more affecting than the book’s contents.
However, there seemed little point in her trying to dig any deeper. If the journal happened to have been left there by a guest at some unidentifiable point in the past, then there was no way in hell Kim would be able to track him or her down. And if it had ultimately belonged to Villa Dolce Vita’s owner, then that person was long dead and their family didn’t care.
They’d probably never read the journal or even knew it existed.
That day in Amalfi, Kim had exchanged numbers with Emilia and the older woman had urged her to contact her for advice and direction in how best to move forward if she chose to do so.
She really seemed to think Kim had something special.
“Be sure to use the number. Don’t take it and forget about it,” she’d encouraged.
“Please do,” Antonio teased, his eyes twinkling. “If you do not, Emilia will never stop talking about it.”
Kim laughed. “I promise I will. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”
“Likewise,” Antonio replied. “Perhaps we will see you again before it is over.”
Should she truly consider picking up the phone? Kim wasn’t sure. It was a big step. A bold step.
The biggest adventure that you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams.
“So what do you think?” Colette was chattering on alongside her as they walked, telling Kim all about the latest with Luca.
Kim wished she had some words of wisdom for her, but there was nothing in the journal about romance, and she didn’t really have enough experience herself in matters of the heart to advise.
It seemed as if both of her friends’ summer romances had begun to turn—a couple of nights earlier, Annie had returned home from her latest date in a foul mood, and had spent the last few days brooding and moping around the villa.
Obviously, if things were over, her mysterious Prince Charming would remain that way.
Kim and Colette had asked her to come along on today’s hike, conscious that their time as a trio together at the villa was coming to an end and there was still so much of the area they hadn’t explored, but Annie had flat out refused.
Kim hated seeing her like this. She was usually so vivacious and fun-loving, it was as if her spark had been snuffed out by whatever was going on with her love life. Kim really hoped she’d come out of her funk before her stay was over, or at least before Colette departed at the end of the week. It was a bummer of a way to end what was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, though Colette, it seemed, was just as wrapped up in her own relationship woes as her carefree days in Italy were coming to a close.
“Sorry, what?” Kim asked, turning to her now, and feeling guilty for only really half listening.
“I was just saying that I don’t think there’s actually anything wrong with meeting Ed for coffee, just as friends. Luca can’t complain about it, can he? Not when we’re not officially together.”
“Sure, I think you’re right, and good for you for keeping your options open, just in case.”
But when the younger girl looked crestfallen, Kim figured she’d said the wrong thing.
“So you don’t think there’s any future for Luca and I beyond a holiday romance?” she queried.
“No, no, I’m not saying that at all. It’s just...you’re an independent woman and you can see and meet who you like. You don’t need anyone’s approval, least of all a guy’s.”
But Colette still looked uncertain so Kim decided to change the subject.
“Hey, let’s pick up the pace and see if we can reach the next gift shop before Manolo Lady.” She indicated with a grin a woman up ahead who was gamely making the climb in four-inch heels.
They’d spotted her on the trail on the way up, and Kim had to admire the Italian determination to remain stylish above all else. She and Colette were wearing trainers, and while the terrain wasn’t all that difficult underfoot, she’d much rather keep her fancy shoes for a fancy event.
She was also a bit taken aback to find that, instead of the wholly wild and natural volcanic attraction she’d expected, there were actually three different gift shops at various points on the ascent to the volcano’s crater, and worse, hikers had to actually trek right through them to get to the top. She’d thought the theme parks back home were bad, but this was another level.
Still, it was a fun—if blisteringly hot—climb, and the views from the top were pretty special, too.
Half an hour later, when she and Colette had finished their descent and had just reached the bus parking area to meet their transport back to Positano, her mobile phone rang.
Her eyes widened a little when she saw from the caller display that it was Emilia.
“Hi,” she greeted, uncertain what the Frenchwoman might want, but equally exhilarated to think that it might be about furthering their conversation about how to turn The Sweet Life into an actual business.
She was right.
“You also said you wanted to learn more about photography and how to do it better?” Emilia said, after they’d chatted a little and Kim told her she was indeed up for exploring things further.
“Well...yes, I think so.”
“One of my photographers is coming to Sorrento soon on an assignment for the magazine. He is American, too, and he would be delighted to give you some tips. He says he can come to your accommodation. Tell me your address and I will give him your number also.” Kim could hear the smile in Emilia’s voice as she continued. “His name is Gabriel Cuminetti. I think you will love him.”