The fact that he hadn’t flat out said no was a shock.
Although that may have had something to do with the listing of Napa properties that Emma had provided . . . along with others in Temecula that could be used as a market-value point. Getting the property appraised would be simple . . . but hinting that she was willing to move to Napa was likely why her father hadn’t refused Beth’s request from word one. Robert’s crowd lived in Napa. And the man made it clear he didn’t want Emma in the mix.
Nicole nudged Emma’s arm. “We promised your mother we wouldn’t spend all our time worrying about the property.”
Emma tossed her hands in the air. “I’m not going to worry about a house. I don’t have any clothes.”
Nicole hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. “Come on, bella . . . let’s spend some of your money.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The tour bus was parked just outside of Florence’s main train station.
Gio dropped his duffel bag alongside the man in the bright orange shirt that had the tour logo imprinted on the back.
“Ciao,” Gio said.
“Buongiorno,” the man replied.
“The paper said to find the man in the orange shirt.”
“That’s me. I’m Claudio.” He extended a hand.
Gio shook it. “A pleasure. I’m Giovanni D’Angelo.”
“You’re Italian?” Claudio asked in Italian.
“I am. My grandfather lives here. I’m just visiting.” Gio spoke to him in Italian, which brought a smile to the man’s face. Claudio had to be in his fifties if not a bit older. A few worn lines making their way on his face, a little gray at his temples.
As Claudio looked at his list of names, he asked, “Where do you live?”
“Southern California.”
“More Californians.” He pointed to three men standing beside a bus. “They’re from San Francisco. We tend to get a lot of guests from the States. Ah, here you are. Giovanni D’Angelo.”
“Gio, please. My mother calls me Giovanni when she’s angry.”
Claudio laughed and switched to English. “We have you down as just one with a queen bed when we stop.”
“That’s right.”
A couple walked up to stand behind him.
“We have at least two hours before our first stop. You might want to wait to get on the bus. Our driver, Alessandro, will take your bag.”
“Thank you.”
Gio picked up his duffel and let Claudio check in the next couple, then walked up to the three men talking with each other to introduce himself.
“Hey,” he said when one of them made eye contact.
“You on the tour?”
“I am.” He dropped his bag, reached out a hand. “My name is Gio.”
“I’m Rob.” Rob was clean-shaven, close to Gio’s age.
“Pierre.” Skinny guy, tiny mustache, with a French accent.
“I’m Chris.” Chris spent some time in the gym. A lot of time in the gym.
Pierre looked beyond Gio. “You’re traveling alone?”
“I am.”
“I am, too,” Chris said.
“Oh, you don’t all know each other?” Gio pointed between the three of them.
Pierre lifted both hands in the air. “We do, but this is Rob’s and my honeymoon. Delayed. We were married during the pandemic, couldn’t travel, then life got crazy. Chris was supposed to be here with his partner, but . . .”
Chris rolled his eyes. “It didn’t work out.”
“We insisted he come,” Rob added.
“I refuse to be a third wheel.”
Four women wearing purple wide-brim hats who looked eligible for a senior living home walked up to Claudio.
“I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that with this group,” Gio pointed out.
One of the Golden Girls looked over her shoulder and winked.
Rob laughed. “This is going to be great.”
“There should be welcome wine,” Chris said.
“It’s nine in the morning,” Rob said, nudging him.
“It’s Italy.”
A man stepped from the bus and took the luggage from the couple that had registered behind Gio and rounded to the back of the small bus.
“You must be Alessandro.” Gio walked toward the man and the other three followed.
“I am. Welcome.”
As soon as the doors in the back of the bus were opened, Alessandro started to pack it with all of their luggage.
Gio shoved his bag on the side and stood back.
The Golden Girls walked over, each one with a bag half the size of them.
Gio reached for the first one that rolled up.
Alessandro reached for the second.
“Oh, thank you,” the woman said.
“No problem.”
“Are you Alessandro?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.” He pointed over his shoulder. “He is.”
The lady’s bag had to be seventy pounds.
No sooner had he wrangled her bag into the back of the bus than a third Golden Girl slid him another. Just as big. Just as heavy. “You ladies don’t pack light,” he said.
“Half of it is medication,” the woman with a feathered purple hat said with a laugh.
Gio turned his attention back to the four of them with a smile.
Alessandro patted him on the back and walked to the front of their bus.
Feathered Hat Lady placed a hand on her chest. “I’m Diane. This here is Barbara, Carol, and Jean.”
Gio introduced himself.
Barbara nodded toward the bus. “C’mon, ladies, I want a seat in the front.”
Claudio now stood at the door of the bus, looking at his watch. So far Gio counted the Golden Girls, the couple that looked nearly identical to Barbie and Ken dolls, and the three gay men from San Francisco. He rubbed his hands together. This should be fun. “Do you want me to close this?” Gio pointed to the back of the bus.
Claudio shrugged. “We have two more.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than two women, one rolling a suitcase, the other holding a large bag that looked like it came from a department store, came running up.
The one with the bag brushed her long red hair away from her face when she came to an abrupt halt in front of the tour guide. “We’re here.”
“Emma and Nicole?” Claudio asked.
“Sorry we’re late.”
Claudio smiled. “It’s okay.”
When Alessandro didn’t make an appearance, Gio reached for the rolling bag. “Let me get this for you.”
The brunette smiled. “Oh . . . thank you.”
That’s when Gio met the green eyes of the redhead. No makeup, skin the color of cream, with a spattering of freckles that touched the tip of her nose and fanned out on her cheeks. She wore a shirt that had obviously come off a street vendor in town. I love Florence was written on it, with a heart where the word love should be. She was stunning. A bit less put together than the others getting on the bus, but gorgeous nonetheless. “Do you have a suitcase?”
She looked at her hand that carried the department store bag. “Pretty obvious I don’t,” she snapped.
“Ignore her,” the friend said. “The airline lost her luggage. We stayed at the hotel till the last second, hoping they’d get it to us.”