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On Saturday, Luigi took Alex car shopping. He was a hopeless flirt, and she couldn’t help but flirt back. It seemed that they both understood that nothing would come of it, but it was fun to let go and enjoy herself with a man, and the attention was flattering and something she needed these days. She didn’t see Nicolas before they left, and she wondered if he was truly that busy or if he was avoiding her. Returning late that afternoon, the new owner of a used, blue Fiat, Alex found Nicolas in the kitchen.
“Oh my gosh, that smells heavenly,” Alex said as she hung her purse on a chair.
“I cooked for two,” Nicolas said without looking at her.
“Oh,” Alex said, peering into the next room. “I’m sorry. I will just make myself something quick and get out of your way.”
Nicolas turned toward her and gave her a small smile. “I cooked for us. For you and me,” he clarified when he saw the question in her gaze.
“For us,” Alex repeated. “Why, thank you. I didn’t expect that.” She hesitated a moment, trying to hide her nervousness, and then went to the cabinet and took out two glasses. “Wine?”
“Sì, grazie.” Nicolas turned back to the stove, and Alex poured them each a glass of wine. She took a sip of hers as she set his on the counter near the stove. She watched as he tossed spinach, mushrooms, and something she couldn’t identify in a pan of olive oil and spices.
“What’s that?” She motioned toward the black paste in the pan.
“Truffles,” Nicolas answered and turned down the heat as he uncovered a hot pot of pasta (linguine, Alex guessed) and reached for a plate.
“What are truffles?” Alex asked.
Nicolas raised his eyebrows. “You have never tasted truffles? They are a bit like mushrooms but stronger in taste. You might not like them.”
Alex smiled widely. “There isn’t much I don’t like, so bring it on.” She took a plate and helped herself to a small piece of steak. She then handed it to Nicolas for him to add a healthy serving of the sautéed mixture.
“Maria said that you don’t cook. In fact, she said that I would probably be expected to cook for both of us every night.”
Nicolas laughed. “My cousin knows me better than that. Sì, many Italian men let the women do the chores, but I have lived alone for many years. I cook, or I starve.”
“Good point,” Alex said and raised her glass to him before taking a sip. She thought about Evangelina and remembered that Maria said she and Nicolas had been together for years. “What about Evangelina?”
Nicolas looked at her with a quizzical expression. “What about Eva?”
“Doesn’t she ever cook for you?”
Nicolas exploded with laughter. “Eva, cook?” He continued to laugh and shake his head. “Eva is very good at choosing the best restaurant, but cooking? No, that is not something Eva is good at.”
Oh, I bet I can guess what she’s good at, Alex thought as she looked away to hide her rolling eyes.
“No talk about Eva tonight. Let us eat,” Nicolas said, and Alex couldn’t have agreed more.
They took their time with the dinner, tender and juicy steak, garlic potatoes, and the spinach mixture. Alex raved about the meal and practically fell in love with the truffle paste, though it truly was strong in taste, as Nicolas had warned her. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted. They made small talk as they ate.
Toward the end of their meal, Alex couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked abruptly.
Nicolas looked confused. “What am I doing?” he asked.
Alex swept her hands over the table. “This, the dinner, the conversation, you being nice to me. What are you up to?”
Nicolas raised an eyebrow and stared at Alex for a moment before answering. “I decided that this feud is useless. I can either hate you and try to drive you away, perhaps fight you legally. Or I can accept that we might work together.” He sat back and shrugged. “I will admit that I am not happy with it, but I can try to make it work.”
Alex thought about what he said and appreciated his honesty, but she was now the one who was confused. Pushing the images of Nicolas with Eva out of her mind, she looked at him with curiosity. “What does Eva have to say about this?”
“It is not her concern.”
“But won’t she own part of it someday?” Alex asked. Nicolas stopped his glass in mid-air and just stared at Alex. He paused before setting the glass back down on the table.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Maria says that you and Eva will probably get married eventually. Will she be okay with working with me?”
Nicolas’ laugh was deep and hearty. “Eva does not work.”
“Whatever,” Alex said as she stood and began to clear the dishes. She was mystified as to what he saw in that woman but didn’t feel like wasting any more time on the spoiled Evangelina. “I’m just glad you won’t be dropping me in the dirt or slamming doors in my face any more.”
“We will see, bella, we will see.” Nicolas laughed again as he stood to help. Alex would have thought that Nicolas was actually calling her beautiful if she hadn’t heard him use the same word and tone with Maria several times. And she also knew that Luigi wasn’t the only flirt in Italy. It seemed to come naturally to the men here.
As they washed and dried the dishes, Alex thought it might be a good time to bring up the journal. Nicolas was in a good mood, and the ice had been broken between them.
“Nicolas,” she began tentatively. “I have something to tell you...” She stopped speaking and took a deep breath. The easy atmosphere they had enjoyed for the past hour became tense as Nicolas stopped drying a plate and eyed her suspiciously. Alex swallowed and turned off the water, laying her dishrag on the side of the sink. She turned to Nicolas.
“I found something a couple days ago. I wasn’t trying to hide it,” she quickly tried to assure him. “I just haven’t had a chance to talk to you. There was business to be attended to and then Evangelina and then car shopping,” she took a breath and tried to slow down her rapidly beating heart. “Please know that I wasn’t trying to snoop or keep secrets.”
“Just say what you found,” Nicolas said impatiently, throwing the towel on the counter and putting the plate down on top of the other one. There was no flirtatiousness there now.
“It may not be anything, really. It’s just a journal. A journal that I believe belonged to your Great-Aunt.” She watched him and tried to read his expression. After a moment, he shrugged, picked up the plates, and put them away.
“It sounds like nothing,” he said. “I thought you were going to tell me it was something important.”
“Oh, but it is important,” she said pleadingly, and she grabbed his arm to force him to turn back to her. “It is very important to me. You see, you have Eva, and Maria, and Luigi, and Giovanni, and their families, and your friends. But I have no one. Finding the journal,” she searched for the words without noticing that her grasp had tightened around his arm. “Finding it was like finding a long lost friend.”
She stopped talking, and Nicolas remained quiet, waiting for her to go on. She looked out the window above the sink. The last light of the setting sun shone behind the fields, turning the tops of the grape vines a pinkish-purple color, which reminded her of the sunsets back in the mountains of Western Maryland where she and kids from school went hiking in the fall. She bit her lip and tried to think of how to best explain what she was feeling. Finally, she looked back at Nicolas who was gazing at her with the most beautiful look of concern. Alex gave him a small smile.
“She was all I had left in this world, and now she is gone. You did not know her, the woman she was, how deeply she loved. Loved everything—her husband, her country, both of them—the U.S. and Italy, the family she left behind, and little things. Things like a piano concerto played with mistakes but played with love, a classic book that she had read before but enjoyed again when she closed her eyes and listened to the melody of the prose, the roses that bloomed in her small back yard.” She closed her eyes and pictured the gardens, so lovingly attended to by Signor Fonticelli and then by his wife in his memory. She could almost hear the soft music of the old, but in tune, piano. When she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat at the way that Nicolas was looking at her. She realized that she was still holding his arm and let go.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, pink blush covering her cheeks and spreading across her face. Nicolas reached his hand toward her cheek and then stopped himself, taking a step back.
“It is okay,” he said quietly. “I do not mind if you read her journal.”
Hastily, Alex shook her head, “No, you see, that’s the problem. I cannot read it. Not without your help.” She had no idea why those words had spilled from her mouth. She could use her app and read the journal just fine, but she now realized that she would lose something in the translation, the human connection.
She looked at him with pleading in her eyes, but he turned back to the counter and picked up the wine glasses.
Putting them away, he answered, “You do not need me. I did not know her. I would not be able to tell you anything.”
“You don’t understand,” she said with frustration. “I can’t read it. It’s in Italian.”
Nicolas turned back to her and smiled. Then he began to laugh. “Then you have a problem, no?” he asked teasingly.
Exasperated, she followed him as he left the room and called out to him. “Nicolas! Don’t do that to me!” He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at her, smiling. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or if reading the journal together was more intimate than he wanted their relationship to be.
Realizing that she truly needed this, the chance to have someone to share this gift with, she resisted allowing her translation software to be her aid and companion. She swallowed her pride and begged, with as much maturity and dignity as she could muster.
“Please, I need your help. I know you don’t really like me and don’t want me here, even if you are willing to let me stay. I understand that this is a business relationship and that you have some sort of thing going with Evangelina, but could you be a gentleman, please, for just a short time each night, and help a lady in need?” She could see the smirk playing at his lips and hated herself for being so desperate, but she firmly felt that she did not want to read the journal alone and that, for some reason, it was Nicolas with whom she was supposed to read it.
“Okay,” he gave in. “Where is this journal? I can see that you will not leave me alone until you show it to me.”
Alex let out her breath and raced up the stairs. She called back when she reached the top, “I’ll be right back.”
Why did she intrigue him so? One minute he resented her, and the next, he was amused. Before Nicolas could ponder his feelings, Alex was back with an old, worn, leather book in her hand. She handed the journal to him, and he inspected it. Though it was old, he could see that the ink was still legible. He flipped through some pages and noticed how fragile the cover and binding were.
“Where did you find this?” he asked as he turned it over in his hand.
“In the barn,” she answered. “It was up in the loft. I hit it with my foot and found it covered with straw.”
“What a strange place for it to be,” he remarked.
“I thought so, too, unless that’s where she hid it.”
“But to be there for so many years and not be found? How can that be?”
“I don’t know, but it was almost like, well... you’ll think I’m silly.” She looked away.
“No, I will not,” he insisted.
Alex sighed and looked at the book in his hands. “It was almost like she led me to it. Like I was meant to find it.”
Nicolas smiled at her words and at the way the blush once again spread across her cheeks. “See, you think I’m a nut,” she said.
“No,” he assured her. “I do not. I think you are hoping to hold onto someone you lost.” He took her hand and led her to the couch, trying to ignore the way his own hand tingled at the touch.
“Let us see,” he said as he opened the book. Alex listened as he translated the first page. “Ah, a young woman in love. Are you making me read a romance book?” Nicolas teased, the flirting thus resumed.
“Shut up and keep reading,” she said with annoyance.
“I do not think I can do both,” he teased again, enjoying the way it made sparks go off in her eyes. “Is that an American thing? To be able to speak and remain quiet at the same time?”
She shot him a nasty look, and he gave in. “Okay, I will keep reading.”
He read the next page out loud in Italian and then handed it to Alex. “You look at the words, and I will tell you what is said.”
She moved closer to him and held the book open for them both to see. He relayed Signora’s thoughts to her.
December 23, 1942
I saw him again today, the handsome young man who was helping at the winter market. We got a light dusting of snow last night, which is not usual this time of year, and I was hurrying in the cold to get some meat for mother. School is out for the holiday, and the Christmas dance at Our Lady of the Roses is tonight. Will he be there? I cannot help wondering. I think he smiled at me when he saw me. I like to think he did.
Alex smiled. “She’s so cute. A young girl infatuated with a handsome young boy. Do you think he went to the dance?” She looked at Nicolas with joy and innocence, and his heart missed a beat. She didn’t seem to even notice how close they were on the couch or how fast his heart was beating. Nicolas reminded himself that, in spite of the intimacy of the moment, she was his business partner and nothing else.
“I know the answer, but maybe I do not tell,” he teased.
Alex nudged him with her shoulder. “That’s not fair. You can read ahead and see what it says, but I can’t. You also know who she married in real life. It’s just mean if you don’t tell me.”
Nicolas laughed and continued.
December 24, 1942
It is midnight, the first moments of Christmas Eve. Mamma and Papà let me stay at the dance until it ended at 11:00. It was a magical evening. I wore the red dress that Mamma made for me. It is a beautiful dress. When he walked into the church hall, our eyes met, and I knew my life had changed forever. He didn’t wait a respectable amount of time to seek me out. He came right to me at that very second and took my hand. He didn’t even ask me to dance. The band began to play a waltz, and he swept me across the floor without moving his eyes from mine. We danced all night, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into mine. Isa, he called me. Not Isabella, but a name just for us, like I was a different person, born anew in his arms. His name is Roberto, and he finished school last year and wishes to go to university in the fall if this war ever ends. We are very lucky to live here where we are not bothered so much by the war. Papà says that will end soon. He does not like Mussolini or Hitler. He says that this war will not end well for us. But tonight, there is no war here, and I will go to sleep happy.
Alex was quiet when Nicolas closed the book. She looked sleepy but content. “Well, what do you think?” he asked her.
“I think that I am making you read a romance book,” she said with a smile. Nicolas couldn’t resist smiling back.
“I think this was a trick. You wanted to read an Italian romance and needed me to do it for you. Why me? Why not Maria?”
“I know you think I’m just a silly girl wanting to read a romantic story, but remember, we both know how this ends. The idyllic life that Isa was living at that moment won’t last forever. It rarely does,” she added wistfully, and Nicolas wondered about her past.
“Sometimes it does,” he said quietly and then abruptly stood. Telling Alex good night, he headed off to bed. In spite of himself, he was looking forward to tomorrow, which confused him. In only a matter of days, he had accepted this stranger into his home and into his business. Though they enjoyed the evening together, and he did admit to finding her charming, Nicolas was at war with himself about the whole situation. Was he letting her fall too easily into his life? He truly did not know the answer.