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

‘It’s a wonderful area and I feel truly blessed to live in this village, which has been my life for over fifty years now. But you’re here on your own? Is that out of choice?’

Alice shook her head. ‘Not exactly. My boyfriend dropped out at the last minute but now that I’m here on my own, I’m quite happy.’

At that moment Giovanni arrived with a steaming dish of pasta, liberally laced with a rich meaty sauce, and deposited a heap onto Father Gregorio’s plate with a few skilful scoops of a spoon and fork held in his other hand. He then turned towards Alice to take her order. ‘And what can I bring you? Some pappardelle alla lepre as well?’

Alice had never been too keen on eating rabbit, and lepre was a hare, so she shook her head. ‘I think something light as a starter and then maybe some meat or fish? I’m hungry, but not really hungry enough for pasta. What do you suggest?’

At his suggestion she decided on a simple tomato, mozzarella and basil salad, followed by grilled calamari. She also ordered a bottle of Chianti Classico, determined to offer some to the friendly priest who, she noticed, only had a little quarter-litre carafe of anonymous red wine in front of him. It seemed like the least she could do after he had allowed her to share his table.

As Giovanni returned with the bottle and opened it, she looked across at Father Gregorio. ‘I wonder if you’d be kind enough to help me with my wine, Father. I certainly don’t want to drink a whole bottle by myself, so maybe you wouldn’t mind…?’

He smiled back at her. ‘If all my parishioners asked for that sort of help, I would be a happy priest – although it might add a bit too much spice to my sermons.’

They chatted throughout the meal and she genuinely enjoyed his company. She soon found herself talking about the events of the day – without naming names – and he quickly picked up on her internal confusion.

‘So, you say this woman whose life you saved was in fact your worst enemy?’

‘I don’t really have anything as radical as a worst enemy, but from a work point of view, she could be really difficult.’

‘And it bothers you that you saved her life?’

‘No, it’s not that it bothers me – in fact, I’m pleased I was able to help another human being. I’m just saying it’s a strange twist of fate that it had to be her.’

‘Life has a habit of doing that. So, you don’t regret what you did?’

‘Not for a moment. Some things are more important than work.’

‘Absolutely. I commend you on a good deed. If more people did more such selfless acts, the world would be a better place. May I ask what work you do?’

Alice decided to leave out any reference to her earlier career, so she told him about her studies in art history and her specialisation in the art of the Renaissance. As she did so, she saw real interest on his face and, to her surprise, he raised his eyes to the heavens and kissed his fingers.

‘Truly the Lord works in mysterious ways.’ There was awe in his voice. He looked back at her again. ‘You see, I have a problem.’

To her fascination, he then went on to tell her what had recently happened in the village church. During renovations of a damp wall, the decorators had happened upon an ancient fresco partially concealed beneath a layer of flaking whitewash. Why it had been covered and by whom remained a mystery. Father Gregorio’s problem was that he knew what needed to be done next, but his poor parish just didn’t have the financial means to do it.

‘With just my bare hands, I’ve been able to wipe off much of the old whitewash and it’s clear to me that the fresco beneath is old, possibly very old. What I need is an expert who can verify if what we have is a treasure or just the doodling of a bored painter a hundred years ago.’

Alice smiled at him across the table. ‘I’m sure there are lots of experts better qualified than I am, but if you’d like me to take a look at it, Father Gregorio, I’d be delighted.’

‘You would? That would be simply splendid. Thank you so much.’

They arranged to meet at the church next morning at ten and, as he stood up to leave, he clasped her hand in both of his and murmured what might have been a blessing. ‘Thank you once more. Your kindness knows no bounds. Now, I wish you good night.’

‘Good night, Father, and thank you for letting me share your table. It’s been a pleasure.’

She received another pleasurable surprise as she was getting ready for bed. Her phone started ringing and, as it was a number she didn’t recognise, she answered cautiously.

‘Pronto.’

‘Alice, hi – it’s me, Matt.’

‘Matt, hi, it’s great to hear from you.’ And it was. ‘How was dinner?’

They chatted for almost half an hour. She discovered that his meetings had gone well, although by the end of the conversation she was still no closer to finding out what he did for a living. Dinner in the swanky restaurant had been fabulous, Rome was as spectacular as ever and his grandmother was in fine form once more. In return, she told him about the events of the day, from what had happened to Zoë – once again without naming names and without revealing her own Hollywood connections – to dining with Father Gregorio and news of the fresco. It was only at the very end of the conversation that he delivered the bad news.

‘I know you and I made plans for dinner on Friday, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to stay on for an extra couple of days. There’s a thing coming up on Saturday with another dinner that night, but I should be home on