Ava bit her lip. ‘Yes. You’re right. We should.’
‘Yet you didn’t suggest it. And you’re the detail guy.’ His cobalt gaze held a perception that was becoming all too familiar. ‘So I’m guessing the idea doesn’t appeal, which is fine by me.’
Ava hauled in breath. ‘No. You’re right. It’s a good idea. It shows affection and proves we are close. I’m just a bit funny about it. I remember being asked to hold hands for a modelling shoot—the idea was to show a married couple’s intimacy and it made me realise there is something really intimate about it.’ It had also made her question her own capacity to be intimate. Because after that shoot she had realised that she and Nick never held hands. Because it hadn’t ever felt natural. ‘I guess there’s also a bit of worry. I mean, what if your hand is sweaty, or uncomfortable to hold or...?’ She held her hand out and surveyed it. ‘And now I’ve managed to make something insignificant into something huge.’
‘Nope. I think you’re right.’ He frowned and she sensed a sudden pain in his voice, wondered if he was remembering walking hand in hand with Jess. ‘Holding hands is intimate. It links you, creates a connection, an implication of a bond, a desire to be close. It’s also a way of communicating—you can squeeze someone’s hand to show support or commiseration or in warning. So yes, it is a big thing and maybe that’s why some people don’t feel comfortable with it. If we were really a couple I guess we’d both have taken a while before we felt ready to hold hands.’
‘But we have now supposedly been together for three months and it would be a bit strange if we didn’t hold hands.’ Yet she’d been with Nick for eighteen months and hadn’t held hands even once. ‘So we’re going to have to do it.’
‘Maybe, but not now.’ Liam indicated ahead of them. ‘This shop looks like what you’re looking for.’
It did indeed. The whitewashed trullo was bedecked with vivid hand-painted signs and wooden shelves stacked with intriguing pottery that tempted the eye. They entered the shop and Ava gave a small cry of delight. The shop was filled with local items, textiles of every hue, ceramics painted with vivid imagery, miniature trulli completed in exquisite detail, alongside black and white photographs of the village in times gone by. ‘It’s like a treasure trove.’
The proprietor stepped forward. ‘Many of the items have been made by local artisans. The linens have been hand-woven and there are also some beautiful examples of filet lace.’
‘They are all beautiful.’ She turned to Liam. ‘Let’s start with your mum.’
‘Um...’ He glanced round, a slightly helpless look on his face. ‘We don’t usually do holiday gifts.’
‘Yes, well. This is different. You’re bringing a girlfriend home. And not any old girlfriend. A Casseveti. Your mum will hardly be thrilled to see me—the least we can do is take her and the rest of the family gifts.’ She picked up a jug, beautifully hand crafted with a picture of a rooster and a flower on the side.
‘Maybe not that. The symbols represent fertility.’
Ava placed it down hurriedly. ‘OK. But there is plenty to choose from. What did you get her for Christmas?’
‘Mum sorts out the gifts for me—she tells me what everyone would like and I give her the money.’ He shifted from foot to foot. ‘That way everyone gets what they want. Seems easier.’
‘OK. But you must have some idea. What does she like? What makes her smile? What’s her favourite colour? Does she have any hobbies? Does she like clothes?’ Ava walked over to a selection of beautiful patterned scarves. ‘Perhaps a scarf?’
Now finally she saw Liam engage as he studied the scarves. ‘She is very elegant,’ he said finally. ‘She always made a point of looking good. She’d go out and scour the charity shops and find amazing things. She even taught herself how to make her own clothes.’
He tugged his phone out of his pocket and Ava looked at the photograph. Liam’s mum was pretty, her copper hair faded with age, but her grey eyes were still bright. Her smile was slightly wary, but there was a serenity about her that Ava liked. She studied her clothes. Elegant grey skirt with a white blouse. Nice and simple, but livened up by a bright red cardigan.
‘I think she’d definitely like a scarf or some jewellery. You pick.’
Liam studied the items on display, picked a couple of scarves up and held them to the light, chose a dark red patterned one. ‘I think she’d like this.’
‘Perfect. Now for my mum.’ Ava sighed. ‘I wish I could get her a magic wand that would make her feel better. Less miserable.’ Less vindictive, less angry... Perhaps she could cast a spell that would somehow make her mother forgive Ava for refusing to try to overturn the will.
Liam pointed at a display of crystals. ‘Maybe a crystal—some people believe that crystals have healing properties or can help in times of grief.’
‘Do you believe that?’ The man really was a whole heap of surprises.
‘I don’t know. I do think that it is possible.’
‘I think that’s a brilliant gift.’ Ava looked at the crystals and then back at him. ‘I don’t think Mum is a believer but I think I’ll get one anyway. Maybe they work even without belief.’ She tried to keep sadness from her voice, knew she’d failed when he looked more closely at her.
‘I assume she has taken it hard. Every article I ever read showed how close your parents were.’
‘Yes.’ No way would she expose the illusion her mum had so painstakingly set up, tell Liam that her father had still loved his first wife, just not enough to stay with her. Had loved Karen’s money and connections more, but hadn’t loved Karen herself. Sometimes Ava wondered if it had been worth it—he had sacrificed love to live a life cushioned by money, but also trapped by it. The fate of Dolci caught up in his marriage, in the Casseveti brand. And so he’d been a prisoner of his own ambitions. Had he ever just wanted to break free, abandon his second family and return to his first?
‘I’ll get Mum this as well.’ She picked up a simple terracotta jug. ‘I think we should get something for your stepdad and brother as well.’
‘I really wouldn’t have a clue what to get John or Max. I never lived with them and there is no blood tie so we aren’t close.’ There was an emptiness to his tone, a careful flatness, and his eyes held trouble in their depths.
‘I know you didn’t choose their gifts but you must have watched them open them.’ His expression was one of reluctance and a sudden suspicion touched her. ‘I mean, you did spend Christmas there, didn’t you?’
‘I popped in a few days after.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I was away over Christmas.’