Angie doesn't say anything, she just smiles, looking deeply into my eyes, as if she still can't believe that everything is happening for real.
And that smile is everything. She's smiling as if she's truly happy. I saw her happy before, but this time I see something more in her eyes. It's like she's completely immersed in this happiness without any doubts.
"I will follow you wherever you go," she says, brushing her hands all over my head. "I was ready to move to London, you know."
"I know," I laugh, squeezing her hips with my hands, "but you don't have to anymore."
"I love you, Ricardo Brandini." She leans closer, and I'm waiting for another long kiss, but she gives me a quick one and says, "Let's get up, you're sitting on the stone floor. You could get sick."
She tries to stand up from my lap, but I don't let her.
"Just one more kiss?" I ask, holding her tightly.
And she tilts her lips toward mine without hesitation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Angie
Two weeks later
"Is he waiting for us?" I ask Ricardo as we drive in his car through the rows of pine trees on the countryside road. We turned on to this road a couple of minutes ago, and I see yards of grape trees in the distance, but I don't see any houses around.
"Who?" Ricardo asks, turning off the A/C and opening the window to enjoy the fresh coniferous mountain air.
I'm glad he did that because the weather is perfect today: it's warm enough to walk without a jacket while a moderate balmy wind gently caresses the skin.
I turn my face to the open window.
"The owner," I specify. "Is he waiting for us? How did he agree to sell the winery?"
"He's waiting for us, yes." Ricardo nods. "I just told him that from now on, I’ll live in Tuscany most of the time, and I agreed to keep his family name on the wine bottles, right next to Brandini's. His wife is going to give us a tour around the winery before lunch."
"Sounds amazing," I say the moment our car bypasses the big green hill, and I see a large house in the distance. It's not even like a house, more like a mansion. I exclaim loudly in surprise, "Is that it?"
"Yes, it is, my love," he says softly, obviously enjoying my reaction.
I'm amazed by the size of the property I see in front of me.
The whole construction is made in the classic Italian style, but the closer we get, the better I understand that it's old, like really old, maybe older than my dad's house, which was built in the middle of the nineteenth century.
The parking lot is located next to a big flowerbed with a massive fountain in the center of it. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, and the various types of trees and plants surrounding it have not been cut for a long time. It's obvious they’re growing without proper care.
"It's not that big. The house is around nine thousand square feet and the wine cellar is only around five," Ricardo continues after he parks the car. "The whole area with buildings and the vineyards is only around four thousand acres."
My jaw drops at those words. Since when is four thousand acres a small winery?
"I know, Angie, it might seem a lot." He smiles at me, and we get out of the car.
Anna, the owner's wife, greets us with a broad smile and genuine hospitality, which I know is inherent only to really happy people. She is around sixty-five years old with short brown hair and she’s wearing a long, loose, mustard-colored dress, flat sandals, and big gold jewelry on her neck and wrists. She told us that her husband inherited this vineyard from his family more than forty years go, and since then, they’ve been producing wine.
As it turns out, Anna has wanted to retire and sell the property for a couple of years now, but her husband couldn't find a buyer for the price they requested. When I asked her why she wants to sell it, she said they're both too old to take care of the property the way they should, and she dreams of spending the rest of her life traveling because they’ve barely seen the world.
The house happens to be even more beautiful inside. It’s a two-story building, with travertine, marble and stone walls on the outside. Anna mentioned that the house was built and decorated using locally produced materials.
The entrance hall is enormous, with sixteen-foot ceilings, and the stairway between the two levels is cream with notes of light brown marble, as is the floor.
The house has six bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, a large living room with a fireplace, a big dining room with wooden furniture and a long table for eighteen guests, and a kitchen connected with a breakfast hall.
Although everything is old, it’s still magnificent: indoor oak windowsills, ornate doors, chestnut fitted furniture, sponge-painted walls embellished with varnished wrought-iron wall lamps and mirrors with hand-painted frames.
The indoor patio from the other side of the building is enormous, even bigger than Ricardo's parents’ patio, though it's not that well-maintained and doesn’t have a pool.
The house and patio area is surrounded by a high cedar fence, which separates the private property from the winery, even though they’re quite far away from each other.
When we get to the winery, there are only about ten employees working there. Everyone is busy doing their own work and they carry it out with pleasure, no rushing, just like all the people who enjoy life do.
I remember Ricardo's office in London: people were running back and forth, talking on the phone and typing something at the same time, drinking coffee in paper cups on their way, even though it was Sunday.
This building is located on one level and contains a grand dining hall with an imposing fireplace and a bar where they usually conduct wine tasting tours.
"Do you like it?" Ricardo asks me after Anna puts us at a table near the bar and leaves to bring the appetizers and start the wine tasting.
"It's amazing," I confess, looking through the sliding glass walls that overlook the vineyard below. I'd like to say more, but it seems like I have no words left to describe how much I love it. I guess Ricardo has noticed that, since I’ve been unusually quiet, looking at everything open-mouthed.
"So, do you think we should buy it?" he asks, looking at me with anticipation.
He said we. I still can't get used to it.
I nod. "If you love their wine and you like the property, I think you should definitely buy it."
I turn my head to look around again.
"You could open a small private hotel in here," I suggest. "People could come here and enjoy vine tours and long walks through the fields."
I gesticulate enthusiastically, and it seems like my imagination has no limits today.
"Oh, and you can build a pool, and this spot would be great for honeymoons or family weekends!" I add enthusiastically. "And if everything goes well, you can build extra houses and private villas—there's a lot of unallocated space!"
When I take a look at Ricardo, I see he's smiling, probably amazed at my active imagination.
"I'm sorry, I always forget that you don't need this," I add quickly, shaking my head. "You have a huge business, why would you need to open a small hotel?"
The moment I say the last sentence, Ricardo chuckles at me as if I just said something stupid.