“How can you be so calm? So many things have gone wrong at Valentini.”
She shrugged. “It’s the nature of the business. There are accidents. Things are stolen. The difference is, these things seem to have happened all at once.”
“You aren’t suspicious about Papà’s accident?” I was incredulous. Had someone given her a sedative?
“I didn’t say that.”
“Explain what you meant, then.”
“I’m suspicious of all of it, my dear daughter. As I said, it’s the nature of the business that someone would want to drive us out of i
t.”
The next day, when my mamma and I went to the hospital, the doctors told us the prognosis for my father wasn’t good. Given his age and the severity of his injuries, they were doubtful he’d recover enough to regain the use of his legs.
Even then, my mamma didn’t break down. It was her strength that made me determined not to fall apart either. My papà was a proud man who needed us to be brave so he could be too.
“You will return to university,” my mother said, startling me.
“Now is not the time for us to worry about that, Mamma.”
She shook her head emphatically. “You will return.”
“You and Papà need me now.”
“What your father needs is to know you will be able to take over the winery operations. You cannot do so without finishing your education.”
“Mamma, perhaps it would be best if we hired someone to take over permanently.”
She held up her hand. “No. You’ll finish school, and then you’ll come back and run Valentini for your father.”
“Matteo could—”
“No,” she said a second time.
Matteo Casavetti was the second oldest son of my father’s sister. His father had inherited his family’s estate and winery in the same way most families did—from his father. When he died, the estate would be passed down to Antonio, Matteo’s older brother.
When I was much younger, I remember hearing my parents talk about the future of Valentini. My father always said it would make the most sense for the estate to eventually be passed down to Matteo.
“Mamma, when you and Papà used to talk about Matteo one day inheriting the estate and winery, you said something about your grandmother.” I remembered more of what she said, only because it equally thrilled and frightened me. Her words were something like, “It is Pia’s birthright, and should you suggest otherwise, the curse of Estancia Valentini will be carried by future generations until the end of time.” Perhaps, in my memory, it was far more dramatic than it had actually been.
“Come with me.” My mother led me out of the hospital and into the nearby gardens. “It was actually my sixth great-grandmother,” she said as we sat side by side on the stone bench. “Her father was the Count of Valentini. When he died, Estancia was his only heir.”
“Go on.”
“She was…a force of nature, and when someone tried to steal her property from her, she would not stand for it. You know the Valentinis descended from the female line of the Medicis, yes?”
I shook my head. No. I’d had no idea.
“At the time, Italy was divided. The Habsburgs of Austria controlled one portion; the House of Savoy, most of the other. Italy was very poor; the Valentinis, on the other hand, were not.”
I rubbed my temples, trying to figure out where in the world my mother was going with this story.
“Legend is, in exchange for giving the House of Savoy half of the family fortune, Estancia became the Countess of Valentini and remained such even after she married for the second time.”
“What about the curse, Mamma?”
“Sì. Estancia did not marry wisely the first time around. Her husband attempted to take control of the estate to ensure it was passed down to his oldest son from another marriage, rather than the daughter Estancia bore him.” My mamma raised a brow. “Her husband met a gruesome demise shortly after she discovered his treachery. It is said she made a public prophecy, stating that anyone who attempted to alter the lineage of the rightful heir by skipping over the oldest child—male or female—would be met with a similar fate.”