“And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now.”
I peek an eye open to see if we’re almost to the top of the hill yet. Nick is driving slow and cautiously but it’s like a Band-Aid slowly being ripped off. The agony is almost too much. I wish he’d just speed up the road in one big swoop.
“Besides,” I add, glancing to my right at the cliff, “accidents happen.”
“Not with me. There are no accidents in my life. Not now. Not while I’m in control.”
If my eyes weren’t closed, I’d roll my eyes at his control freak answer, but instead I pray to the Tuscan gods that I make it up this road safely.
Somehow, we do make it. But my white-knuckle grip on my seat and sweaty upper lip proves it was no easy task. When we park in a little lot in front of an ancient church, I finally let out the breath that I had been holding.
“I’m walking from now on when we go back and forth. No way am I allowing that to happen again,” I declare, although I know that if Nick wants me in the car driving down that deadly path, then I’ll be in the car once again.
A priest walks out of the church and waves at Nick as he approaches us.
“Father Antonio,” Nick says, as he gets out of the car, circles around to my side and opens the door. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Nick assists me out of the car and then guides us to meet Father Antonio. He shakes his hand and looks around at the buildings circling us.
“You’ve done a good job keeping up El Boro,” Nick says.
Father Antonio nods with a warm smile. “Louisa, Victoria, and Lonnie have done most of the work. I can’t take credit.” His accent is thick as well, but I understand every word he says.
As if the three people he mentioned were waiting for their cue, they walk out of a small building to greet us.
“I clearly left this place in good hands,” Nick praises as he shakes everyone’s hands. “Let me introduce you to Lyriope. She’ll be staying with me here for a while.” Introductions are made, and I mentally try to remember everyone’s names although I’m so overwhelmed by everything that I fear I’ll forget. “Father Antonio, Louisa, and her two children, Victoria and Lonnie, live in and care for El Boro while I’m away,” Nick tells me.
Victoria seems extremely shy as she won’t make eye contact with me. And Lonnie seems uneasy as well since his eyes seem to be darting around, also not focusing on me or Nick.
“How long will you be staying?” Louisa asks. She’s obviously older since she has two grown adult children, but there is something youthful in her face. I think I could count maybe two wrinkles if I had a magnifying glass.
“Undecided.” Nick glances at me. “One day at a time for us.”
“We have the villa that overlooks the valley below set up for you. It’s… still in a bit of disarray, but I think it will suit you for now,” Louisa says.
Nick nods and looks at Lonnie. “Where are we on the construction of the new villa?”
Lonnie swallows hard, shifts his weight, but then answers, “It’s been slow. Getting the manpower here hasn’t been the easiest. But when you told us of your arrival, I called for every working body, and I hope to speed up the progress, sir.”
Nick is quiet. There is an awkward silence. I notice that eyes cast to the ground, breaths seem to be held. Everyone waits.
Nick finally nods. “Pay overtime wages to make sure they are all here working. Bonuses will be paid if I don’t have to wait long.”
“Yes, sir,” Lonnie says, clear relief washing over his face.
“All right, Louisa,” Nick says. “Lyriope and I have been up all night. Do you mind showing us to our villa so we can get some rest?”
Louisa nods to Lonnie to get our bags and says, “Follow me, sir.”
When we enter the small villa, I can see why Nick asked about the remodel of a new villa. We stand in a very small area that is large enough to house a queen-size bed, a small dresser, two nightstands, and a small water closet with just a toilet and a sink. It’s charming with its rustic decorations, countryside pictures on display, and the stone walls that are the same as the Morelli villa I was in. If it were just me, I’d feel these accommodations are more than adequate, but I know that Nick Hudson, Mr. White Mansion in Bishop’s Landing, is not satisfied with such a quaint and cozy abode.
The view, however…
No amount of money could buy a better view.
Nick walks over to the veranda to open the doors. When he does, it’s almost as if I can hear angels singing when I see the scenery shining back at me.