Alice spent the week exploring the castle and its grounds, making appointments to see architects and tradesmen, and setting about clearing a workspace for herself. Although Simonetta offered her a choice of fine rooms on the first floor for her use, Alice was determined to establish her own domain as soon as possible so as not to intrude upon the family. She installed herself in the room she’d already earmarked as her office during her first thorough inspection of the castle. It was still filled with all manner of junk and inhabited by some truly scary arachnids as well as rodents and she was more than happy to accept an offer of help from Alfonso and Pietro.
It was clear that some of the junk lying submerged under a network of cobwebs, so dense it almost looked like a sheet, had been there for decades if not centuries. Among the mouldy clothes, worm-eaten furniture and broken pots and bottles they came across a number of real gems. Alfonso and his son found no fewer than five vicious spearheads, their wooden shafts now so rotten they crumbled away as the men picked them up. Along with them were three or four rusty bowl-shaped helmets and even a fine longsword, so heavy that Alice had trouble lifting it even using both her hands. The leather of its handle had rotted in parts but it was still a magnificent artefact and when Alice showed the finds to the baron, his eyes lit up and he told her he would make sure that the sword and the other pieces of military memorabilia were carefully stored in readiness for display in the new castle museum when it opened.
There was no form of heating but hopefully for the next four or five months she wouldn’t need any, and by the time autumn arrived there should be a new central heating system in operation. As far as furniture was concerned, once she had spent a whole morning scrubbing the floors and walls as clean as she could, she picked out a desk and a couple of chairs from under one of the dustsheets on the first floor which, while nice, weren’t special enough to put on display. Her two willing helpers carted the furniture downstairs and set it up, and Alfonso even managed to find a working desk light that he proudly set in place.
‘There, signora, it looks like an office already.’
‘Thank you both so much for all your help and, remember, it’s Alice, not signora. Okay?’
Alfonso and his son had both been with her on Tuesday morning when Rocco from the sawmill had come to inspect the surrounding woods. Rocco had been most impressed with the variety, age and condition of the trees and he went off promising to send her a plan of action and a written offer of collaboration which would hopefully benefit both sides. As for Alfonso and Pietro, they appeared delighted to see that things were starting to happen at long last and Alice got the feeling that Ines might be changing her mind about their willingness to work.
In particular, the men were enthusiastic, if slightly mystified, by the idea of breeding alpacas and, once her office was set up, they went off to select the most suitable fields for livestock and to start mending and replacing rotten fences and strengthening walls. Unlike Devon, this area had no hedges and Alice noticed that most of the local farmers used electric fences to create fields in the wide, open grasslands, so they did the same. Alfonso, who knew most of the farmers in the area, promised to put out feelers as to where they could get hold of alpacas. After consultation with Simonetta, Alice asked him to investigate the cost of replacing the old tractor – which she felt sure should end up in the castle museum – and buying a quadbike, one of the necessities on a modern farm that her father swore by. The response from Alfonso and his son had been barely concealed delight.
As for cattle, Alice decided to wait until the castle was open and producing decent regular income before embarking on the considerable expense of setting up a proper modern milking parlour. The beauty of the alpacas was that they were hardy animals and her father had assured her that they didn’t need very much in terms of initial outlay apart from just buying the animals and then shearing them once a year. She had been reading articles online and had ordered a book in Italian written by an alpaca farmer up north near Turin. Her father also promised to send her a copy of the book he had been reading so that she could build up as much knowledge as possible about this rather unusual animal. By the end of the week, she was definitely getting the feeling that the plans were starting to come together.
She knew the most important first step was to decide on an architect and she made three appointments in Parma for Friday afternoon with the firms recommended by Signor Bolognese. She drove down early and spent the morning going around the city, trying to sort out the bureaucratic headaches involved with resuming employment here in Italy after a four-year gap. Fortunately, she still had a sheaf of documents left over from when she had worked over here before and, even better, she had kept her Italian bank account and tax code. Even so, she was feeling shell-shocked by the time she emerged from the last of the offices and headed for a café under one of the portici, the covered arcades that lined the busy shopping streets, where she sat down gratefully to relax with a sandwich and a long glass of cold mineral water.
She had arranged things so as to start the afternoon’s interviews with the two older firms that Signor Bolognese had recommended, before finishing off with his first choice, the newest of the three, LM Architects. That way she would be able to compare each of them and choose one to present to the family for their approval next week during what was becoming a regular Monday morning meeting.
All three firms were within walking distance of each other in the centre of Parma. Unlike the previous time when she had spent the night here after her interview, she had managed to get into the city and find a parking space without getting totally confused by the lack of road signs and the one-way system. She left the car and went to her first appointment where she was seen by an elderly gentleman with white hair, not dissimilar to Signor Bolognese in appearance, although his manner was less affable. He was courteous and polite, but it seemed to Alice that he was a bit too self-important and she had a feeling that, however wide and varied his experience might be, she was likely to find herself constantly fighting to get her own way. She wanted an architect she could work with, not for.
The second architects’ studio was less than a hundred metres along the same street. This time she was seen by a woman. Probably in her late fifties, she was elegantly dressed, absolutely dripping with gold and with long blood-red fingernails. Although she, too, was polite, there was no warmth there, and from the schedule of charges that she gave Alice it was clear that employing her firm would cost an arm and a leg. After all, designer clothes and manicures didn’t come cheap. Alice was, therefore, far from optimistic when she arrived at her third and final appointment of the day.
Unlike the previous two offices, the last studio was situated in a relatively modern building, just on the edge of the centro storico. Alice took the lift to the top floor and stepped out into a light and airy lobby with a panoramic window looking out over the roofs of the city. The sign on the glass door in front of her indicated that she had arrived at LM Architects. She opened it and walked in to be greeted by a young man in his early twenties sitting behind a glass-topped desk. He looked up and produced a friendly smile as Alice walked in.
‘Signora Sterling? You’ve come to see Luca?’
Alice smiled back. ‘That’s right. I’m told he’s the man to see about historic building works.’
‘He certainly is.’ The receptionist pressed a button and spoke into an intercom on his desk. ‘Signora Sterling’s here, Luca. Shall I show her in?’
‘Yes, please, Carlo.’ The voice sounded as if it belonged to another young man, and when Carlo opened a door and ushered her in, Alice saw that the architect was probably only three or four years older than she was, but it wasn’t his age that struck her most forcibly. As the receptionist retreated, closing the door behind him, Alice momentarily lost the power of speech, her eyes trained on the fair-haired man sitting behind another glass-topped desk, a familiar spark of attraction shooting through her. She might well have stayed there, rooted to the spot, if there hadn’t been a movement from beneath the desk. A big black dog roused himself from his master’s feet and came padding across the tiled floor towards her, his tail wagging lazily. As he did so, the architect stood up with a look of amazement on his face.
‘It’s you… from the restaurant.’ He sounded as surprised as she felt.
She did her best to kick herself into gear and attempted a reply, keeping her eyes trained on the big black dog at her feet who was nuzzling her with his nose. ‘I was just going to say the exact same thing. I didn’t know you were an architect.’ Simonetta hadn’t said anything about this.
‘And I didn’t know I was going to see you again so soon.’ He followed his dog across to her and they shook hands. Alice felt an almost electric thrill run through her as they did so, and she hastily dropped her eyes to the dog again as she felt her cheeks flush.
After counting to ten and taking a deep breath she steeled herself to look up from the dog again and saw a hint of a smile on his face, no doubt caused by the bewildered expression on her face. ‘But your name’s Luca…’
‘That’s right. Luca Montorso, and Carlo told me you’re Alice Sterling.’ He indicated a seat in front of his desk. As her befuddled brain gradually began to register what she had just heard, she sank down gratefully onto the stylish steel and leather chair and took a couple of deep breaths.
‘I thought your name was Tommaso…’
Comprehension dawned on his face. ‘I see what’s happened. You’re confusing me with my twin brother. His name’s Tommaso. I’m Luca.’
Alice realised she must be coming across as a complete idiot so she dropped her eyes to the dog again, who had come over and was now resting his nose on her lap. She sat there stroking his ears while trying to make sense of what she had just learned. Twin brothers! So presumably Luca was the one who had run off and left home after a fight with his father while Tommaso had stayed at the farm. As she slowly started to process the possible ramifications of this discovery, his voice intruded on her thoughts.
‘It’s very good to see you again. Can I get you something to drink?’ From his tactful tone she got the feeling he was deliberately giving her a bit of time to sort her head out.
Finally raising her eyes from the dog once more, she did her best to sound a bit less gormless. ‘If you’re going to have something, I’d love an espresso.’ Although the way she was feeling, something stronger might have been more welcome.
‘Of course. It’ll give me a chance to show off my new coffee machine. I hope you like it.’
He went across to the corner of the room and busied himself with the coffee machine, while Alice came to terms with the fact that she was now in the same space as the man who had so unexpectedly produced that spark of attraction in her in the restaurant.
And he wasn’t Simonetta’s boyfriend after all.
As the realisation dawned on her that this meant that he wasn’t off limits after all, bewilderment was replaced by something more akin to apprehension, and the unfamiliar self-confidence she had felt the other night in the restaurant threatened to evaporate completely. He was most probably already in a relationship, but what if he wasn’t? What would happen if he asked her out? What would she say? Would it be a good idea to consider dating a member of the Montorso tribe? Would he be interested in her?
Her brain was still spinning when he came back over with two little cups of coffee.
‘Do you want sugar?’
The simple banality of the question finally shook her out of her contemplative state and she gave herself a mental kicking. She was in her thirties, not a teenager. It was about time she got a grip. She took the cup and smiled up at him.
‘No, no sugar thanks. This is very kind of you. Sorry for my moment of confusion.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s happened to me all my life. That’s the problem with having an identical twin.’ He walked back around his desk and sat down again. ‘It can have its advantages. At school, from time to time, I’d take my brother’s maths tests for him, and he’d occasionally take my place in the football team after I hurt my back. Nobody ever realised.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Be careful, the coffee’s very hot. Now, how can I help you? I believe you told Carlo you have an old property that needs restoration.’
‘It’s not quite as simple as that. The property doesn’t belong to me, I’ve been employed to manage it.’ She took a deep breath and kept her eyes on his face as she broke the news to him. ‘It’s Varaldo castle.’ She saw his eyes widen. ‘That’s right, I’ve been employed by the Varaldo family. They intend to open the castle to the public. It’s going to need a lot of renovation and modernisation, and then of course there’ll be all sorts of bureaucratic hoops to jump through. That’s why we need a good architect, and you come very highly recommended.’
‘I do?’
She went on to tell him about her chance encounter with Signor Bolognese and this drew a smile from him, but she could see that he was hesitant. She could well imagine what must be going through his mind at being asked to work for the family who had been sworn enemies of his own family for centuries. Generations of his forefathers were probably turning in their graves just at the thought of it. There was no point in beating about the bush so she decided to tackle the subject head on.
‘As you can probably imagine, since coming here, I’ve learnt that relations between the two families are strained and have been for a long, long time. Before coming here today, I had no idea who you were, and if I had known, I probably wouldn’t have come. The last thing I want would be to put you in a difficult position or to stir up further ill feelings. Now that I know who you are, if you’d prefer not to get involved, I’ll understand perfectly, although I’m sure it’s going to be a really interesting project. If you tell me you prefer to stay out of it, I’ll finish my coffee and leave. I wouldn’t want to waste your time, but it would be great if you were prepared to consider it.’
She found herself questioning her true motives in trying to persuade this man to accept a commission which would throw him into direct conflict with his own family, even assuming that the baron would be prepared to accept help from a Montorso. She tried telling herself that it was simply because he had been personally recommended by Signor Bolognese, but she knew that wasn’t the real reason. In a moment of self-awareness, she realised that she liked this man and the idea of spending more time with him had a lot of appeal. Whether he would want to spend time with her remained to be seen and she wasn’t holding her breath. Either way, this was hardly the most professional of motives for choosing somebody to head up a project on this scale.
Seeing him looking uncertain, she went on to outline the sorts of changes she had in mind and the serious amount of input she would require from him. The more she spoke, the more interest she could see on his face. She could well imagine how appealing a major heritage project like this could be to a young architect with a relatively new business. It occurred to her that the name of the studio, LM Architects, was made up of his initials, so presumably he was the main or maybe even the only partner. Apart from anything else, a project like this could also prove to be very lucrative to him, so she had a fair idea of the sort of inner conflict he might be experiencing. When she had finished detailing how she saw the job developing, she sat back and reached for her coffee.
He didn’t reply immediately and the dog, who had been sitting happily by her side, got up and trotted across to his master to lend a bit of canine support, maybe sensing that he was struggling with a difficult decision. Finally, Luca Montorso looked up from the Labrador and nodded a couple of times.
‘First of all, thank you for coming to me about this. It certainly sounds like a fascinating project and I must admit it’s something that has considerable appeal, but I’m sure you can understand my hesitation. It’s not just a simple business decision because of the situation between the two families with which you’re already familiar,’
He hesitated and then corrected himself.
‘I’m sorry, I’m making it sound as if you’ve offered me the job already and I wouldn’t want to sound presumptuous. Why don’t I tell you a bit about my background and experience and give you my thoughts on how I feel you should proceed? If you’re interested in asking me to work with you, then I would just ask for a little bit of time to think things through and talk them over with my brother, before giving you my definite response. You don’t mind, do you? I wouldn’t want you to think I’m trying to sound ungrateful. Like I say, it was very good of you to come to me about this.’
Alice nodded. ‘Of course I understand, and I’d better put my cards on the table as well. Any recommendation I make will have to be ratified by the family, and it could be I’ll have a hard job to convince the baron that you’re the right person.’ She gave him a little smile. ‘Life can be very complicated at times.’
She spent almost an hour with him, going through in greater detail what she had in mind and showing him some of the photos she had taken to illustrate the current state of the building. In return, he told her about the six years he had spent working in Latina and Abruzzo, south of Rome, including iconic places like Montecassino. He also talked her through two recent heritage projects he had undertaken here in Emilia-Romagna and, in particular, he appeared to be well versed in the crippling amount of paperwork to be submitted to the relevant authorities when dealing with historic properties. He invited her to contact his previous clients in order to get references as to his ability. It certainly sounded as if he had a lot of experience and the more they talked, the more convinced she became that, irrespective of any nascent feelings she might be developing for this man she barely knew, from a work perspective LM Architects looked like they were the right people for the job.
Last of all they talked money and she was pleased to find that his rates, while certainly not cheap, compared favourably with the previous two firms she had interviewed. Without the complication of the family feud, she would have had no hesitation in offering him the job. As it was, she told him she would speak to Simonetta and promised to give him an answer the following day. As that would be Saturday, he gave her his mobile number so she could text him. If the answer was yes, at that point he told her he would sit down and talk to his brother and he promised her a reply by first thing on Monday morning.
He stood up and thanked her once more and they shook hands. Once again, his touch sent a little shockwave through her but she was better prepared this time and she managed to avoid blushing like a teenager. Before leaving she asked him something which had been puzzling her.
‘Do you still live in Varaldo? I assume you must be somewhere near there as I’ve seen you in the restaurant twice.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I live here in Parma now. If I were to return to live in Varaldo, I’d be bound to run into my father sooner or later and I never want to see him again. I don’t know if you’ve heard on the grapevine, but he and I had a major falling-out years ago and I left home for good. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since my university days. The only reason I go back to Varaldo is because one of my best friends is Leo Chiesa, who’s taken over from his father as chef at the Casa Rosa. His father and my father don’t get on – to be honest, a lot of people don’t get on with my father – and the two of them haven’t spoken for years, so I know I’m quite safe in the restaurant. There’s no way my father would ever set foot in there and more fool him. If you haven’t already tried it, Leo and his father make the best lasagne in the world.’
He accompanied her to the door and opened it for her. She stopped and turned towards him one last time, feeling remarkably awkward. ‘Thank you for your time, Signor Montorso. I promise I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’
‘Thank you for coming.’ He sounded equally awkward and for a moment or two she intercepted a curious glance from his receptionist who must have picked up on his tone. ‘Call me Luca, please.’