Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) by T.A. Williams (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📗

to love. The beauty of this product, apart from the taste, was that she knew from experience it would last for as long as a week and, seeing as she was now on her own, she would need that long to get through it. She also bought a slice of pizza for lunch and, on an impulse, she added a delightful-looking little strawberry tart. After all the trauma of the past few days she thought she deserved a treat.

Back at the house, she opened the bottle of wine from the fridge, discovering that it wasn’t Prosecco after all. It was a local sparkling wine from just a few kilometres up the road and, ice-cold from the fridge, it was very drinkable indeed. After pouring herself a glass, she took the slice of pizza and went out into the back garden. All the builder’s rubbish had been cleared away and a wooden bench positioned in the shade of the branches poking over the wall from the neighbour’s walnut tree made an excellent place to sit and have her lunch. Apart from the twittering of little birds high above her, it was quiet and peaceful there, and she settled down contentedly, letting her mind roam.

Settling into the little house had cheered her and she was determined to enjoy her holiday. She would be here for almost four weeks and, with David out of the equation, she could go wherever she liked. The only constraint on her was the interview at the auction house in a few days’ time. She had booked a flight from Florence, going out early next Thursday morning and coming back on Friday afternoon. That way she would be able to spend the night with her mum, whose holiday in Cornwall would be starting the next day. If the auction house offered her the job, she imagined she would be free to continue her holiday here until that started, presumably in early or mid-August. Of course, if they didn’t offer her the job, she would need to dedicate time over the next few weeks to trawling the internet for suitable alternative positions. So far none of her other applications had produced positive responses. Still, she told herself, it was mid-summer and no doubt lots of decision makers were on holiday. Besides, she had the safety net of enough in her savings account to keep her afloat for a good long while, until she managed to find a position that really appealed.

On a personal level, things were no clearer. If she managed to meet up with Matt once more and things developed between them – if he was unattached – she would no doubt want to stay around here. Of course, if she never saw him again or if he proved to be in a relationship already – or just not interested – then she could go anywhere. Those, she realised, were a hell of a lot of ifs. With a certain degree of surprise, it occurred to her that this was virtually the first time in her adult life when she found herself without any pressing commitments. She was free to do whatever she wanted. There was just one downside – she would be doing it on her own. For now, that wasn’t a problem, but maybe four weeks might be pushing it. Time would tell.

She spent the afternoon unpacking, reading and checking the internet for possible places to visit, before driving into Greve in Chianti to stock up on food, washing powder, and some wine and water. It was a pleasant little town with a variety of shops and restaurants, and a beautiful triangular central piazza, and she resolved to come back to do a bit of exploring soon. It was as she was walking around the perimeter of the piazza, hugging the shade, that she had an unexpected encounter. She heard footsteps behind her and felt a light tap on her shoulder.

‘Alice – it is you, isn’t it? Even from the back I recognised you.’

She wheeled round to find herself looking straight into a pair of familiar light-blue eyes and her spirits soared.

‘Hi, Matt, fancy seeing you here.’ She glanced around. ‘No Guinness?’

‘No, I left him at home. A lot of the shops don’t allow dogs and he isn’t used to being tied up. The last time I left him outside a shop he howled the place down.’ He looked pleased to see her. ‘Are you shopping?’

‘That’s right. I’ve rented a little place for a month.’ She thought she saw a spark of interest on his face as he heard the news. ‘I need to stock up on supplies – including wine.’

‘Well, you’ve come to the right place for that.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Got time for a coffee?’

‘Yes, of course, although I think I’ll just have something cold. It’s absolutely boiling today.’

He led her across to a cafe with tables outside on the square, sheltered from the afternoon sun by the buildings ringing the piazza. He ordered a caffè freddo for himself and insisted on treating her to one of the establishment’s home-made ice creams. On his advice, she went for strawberry and meringato, which was a heavenly mix of creamy vanilla and chunks of meringue. With it, she asked for a glass of sparkling mineral water and sipped it as they chatted. She was dying to ask him about his situation and whether there might be a special someone waiting for him back at the tower, but she curbed her impatience and they talked about generalities. It was just lovely to be with him. For his part, he also refrained from asking anything personal, so by the time she had finished her ice cream, she had learnt that she always had to make sure she chose the Chianti with the little black cockerel on the label, which showed it was the good stuff from around here, and that in Greve there was no shortage of good wine on sale… but nothing that related to