Deception of the Heart (6 page)

‘
Yes, for a man who praises modesty and frugality, I am more than surprised to find his home so opulent.’ Pete’s gaze was pensive as it traveled over the house. They had arrived in a cab, the driver’s waterfall of Italian making her painfully aware that she was out of her league with her basic knowledge of the language of Leonardo da Vinci and Petrarch.

‘It looks like a family home to me,’ she supplied hesitantly, surprised by his spitefulness. ‘
Who knows, maybe Mr. Spitieri inherited it from his parents?’

‘That’s possible
.’ Pete nodded, his expression doubtful. ‘Still, I expected something less over the top. Well, I guess I can add this controversy to my list of questions I have for our host.’

He was joking, hopefully.
Melanie glanced at him, her brown eyes cautious. She couldn’t explain it, but she’d sensed a subtle shift in his mood since they met at the LaGuardia airport earlier that day. He seemed more… focused, more silent and preoccupied with his own thoughts. Her attempts to carry a conversation soon dried up from his total lack of response. They’d moved into the Hotel Bella Vista, their rooms on the second floor overlooking a romantic courtyard with potted palms and rose bushes. She was absolutely thrilled with her spacious, white and gold themed room that boasted an adjacent bathroom with a tub that could have fit her and three other people. After a light lunch and Pete’s phone call to Spitieri, they were off again, the initial meeting with the main reason for their journey to Italy certainly taking up all of Pete’s attention.

Maybe she was exaggerating, she told herself firmly, surprised
by the sense of unease that refused to go away no matter how hard she tried.

‘But you’re right,
Melanie. It is extremely beautiful here.’ He must have noticed her discontent because he smiled at her, the warmth in his eyes making her feel ridiculous for worrying about the issue. Everything was fine, of course.

‘So I gather you speak Italian?’ he continued, her momentary relief disappearing once again. Talk about getting
out of the frying pan into the fire!

‘Some, I do.’ She nodded cautiously, praying he wouldn’t ask her to start a conversation with the cab driver or
, even worse, with Mr. Spitieri. So far she understood that the old man was fluent in English. The need to shine in Italian wasn’t something Pete seemed to investigate any further. She wasn’t lying when she said she spoke some though. Two semesters of Italian in high school and another course at university didn’t make her a specialist, but she could get around without being lost.

‘I was just
thinking that, given the fact I will be spending most of my time with our host, you might run some errands downtown.’ If he noticed her discomfort, he had graciously chosen to overlook it. And for that, she was grateful. She imagined she should be perfectly able to deal with that part of the arrangement.

The car slowed down, pulling into
the large, circular driveway in front of the house. The long, sweeping staircase led to a huge, dark, and richly carved door. Melanie almost expected an ancient, toga dressed man to appear on its threshold. Time must pass slower there. She stepped out of the car, the door held by the driver. Judging by his beaming face, he must have been rewarded with a substantial tip; his cheerful smile never wavered.

‘Welcome to my house
.’ The door must have opened as she watched the driver, because it stood wide open and a short, skinny man walked down the steps, his brown, wrinkled face breaking into a smile warm enough to rival the setting sun.
‘Bienvenutto
, signore Brunner and signorina Bennett.’

Daniel
Spitieri was just as surprising as his house. She had seen a photograph of him, of course. The glossy book cover had failed to convey the spark of life in his pitch black eyes or the way his mouth curved into a boyish grin, the gap between his front teeth adding to his youthful appeal.

A black
- and white-dressed man welcomed them at the door, his serious face and impeccable manners making her think of a penguin. He disappeared after a short exchange in Italian with Daniel that was too fast for her to catch except for the fact it revolved around some garden work and pool renovations.

‘I have hired some help around the house
.’ Daniel nodded to them conspiratorially, his eyes following Pete and Melanie’s. ‘Sophia complains about me going
pazzo
, but we aren’t getting any younger. This place is getting too big for us, I keep saying. She thinks that we can’t move, or our children won’t find us anymore.’ He laughed out loud, his rich baritone surprising for such small stature.

‘
You’ve a lovely house, signore.’ She smiled in response, aware of the inexplicable but almost palpable resentment radiating from Pete at the mentioning of his workers. What on earth did he have against people hiring help? People had nannies, gardeners, maids, and cooks. It was a fact of life, and even though she couldn’t imagine having one of those people work for her personally at any time of her life, she wasn’t the one to judge or criticize it.

‘Call me Daniel,
no
?
Grazie
, my dear. We love it dearly, my wife and me.’ Their host was apparently oblivious to Pete’s reaction. He ushered them into his home that seemed to grow larger and larger the deeper they ventured.

‘I thought we could have some drinks to
break the ice, as you say it?’ They had arrived in a large yet cozy room. Its cream colored walls and huge oriental carpet in hues of brown, beige, and vanilla provided a perfect background for the heavy, chocolate brown leather sofas and low, marble topped coffee tables. ‘Sophia is still out in the garden. My wife loves painting her watercolors there, weather permitting,’ he explained, his eyes softening at her name. ‘Roberto will get her so she can join us in the
salotto
.’

Melanie
found herself holding a crystal goblet filled with a mixture of red wine and mineral water. She’d chosen to forgo something stronger out of fear she might get tipsy in the most inappropriate of circumstances. She had eaten very little at lunch in the hotel, since she was nervous about meeting Mr. Spitieri and the other unknown older gentleman Pete was trying to oust from the picture. By now, her stomach had settled. Daniel Spitieri had turned out to be one of the nicest and most approachable people she had ever met. If his colleague was anything like him, she might actually enjoy spending time in his company.

‘And here she comes, the most beautiful woman on this side of the ocean
.’ Daniel’s eyes wrinkled in from his smile as he watched his wife approach. His face was so full of genuine tenderness Melanie felt she had to look away, embarrassed to encroach on something so private and precious. Would she ever meet anyone who’d look at her like that? She once thought she had, only to be utterly and heartbreakingly disappointed.

She glanced at Sophia
Spitieri, the taste of the excellent wine suddenly souring on her tongue. The older woman was by far no beauty queen with her rather round silhouette and broad, round cheeked face. Her dark eyes were set too close and her nose was too long to have any claim to real beauty. And yet, to her husband, she was special. The saying that beauty was in the eye of the beholder came to Melanie’s mind.

I
ntroductions followed and the little group was just about to sit down when Sophia clapped her forehead in a dramatic gesture, her eyes regretful.

‘
Dio mio
, I am forgetful today. I have left my easel in the perennial gardens, of course.’ She tutted in self-disapproval, her full cheeks shaking. ‘When Roberto called me in, I completely forgot about that one piece. I usually paint one or two locations a day, you know.’ She turned to her guests, her voice as earnest as a little girl’s reciting her classes. ‘I like trying to capture the beauty of the blooms as they start unfurling in the morning. So I set up my easel there at first, watching the sun touch their petals. Daniel has been so understanding and got me a whole set of easels for my last birthday. That way, I don’t have to carry one with me everywhere, you see?’ She grinned mischievously, her face much prettier now. ‘Of course it makes me spoiled, and I tend to forget my things in the garden.’

‘
That sounds lovely.’ Melanie smiled back, her good mood restored. ‘I love flowers myself, signora. If your perennial gardens are anything like the path to your house, I am not surprised you like spending your time there.’

‘It’s even better
.’ Obviously her pride of the gardens took a front seat to modesty because the older woman nodded enthusiastically, her brown eyes eager. ‘Say, if you want, you can have a look right now,
signorina
. It’s just a simple walk down from the back of the house. I would be happy to show you around while the men bore each other to death here.’

A round of laughter followed,
and Daniel warned Melanie that the invitation was nothing but his wife’s evil plan to have her help retrieve the easel.

The moment
they exited the large, French style back door, Melanie gasped with delight. The view laid out in front of her left her speechless. If Monet came back to life and decided to paint something, he’d certainly pay the Spitieris a visit. She allowed her gaze to travel past the expanse of the manicured lawn, down to the azure blue rectangular pool, and finally to the stone gate leading to the lower gardens, patches of yellow, red, pink, orange, and violet meeting her enchanted eyes.

‘Come on
.’ The older woman took her by the elbow, her rough fingertips making it clear she didn’t shy away from getting her hands dirty in the garden. ‘I love showing our guests around. Daniel gets so preoccupied with his work he forgets there are other things outside the room’s walls.’

They walked across the lawn,
Melanie’s simple, dark blue sandals sinking into the lush, green grass. She was happy she’d picked the most comfortable pair of shoes she had packed for her trip for this initial visit. Not only did they match her simple, dark blue dress and go with the little pearl grey jacket, but they allowed her to walk freely on grass or the cobblestone path.

‘There it is, sitting just where I left it
.’ Sophia smiled again, pointing at her easel. It stood just in front of a huge rose bush. A gazillion pale pink double-flowers covered every inch of the wiry branches, and the glossy dark green leaves barely managed to sneak out here and there to reach the sun.

‘That’s very good, really
.’ Melanie eyed the picture, admiring the dreamy quality of the watercolor. Obviously Daniel Spitieri wasn’t the only one with talent, and her respect for the older woman grew with each passing second. Not only did she come across as unpretentious and kind, but she was talented too. Melanie would have to mention it to Pete. Hopefully it would soften his absurd stance against the Spitieris’ lifestyle. She couldn’t tell why she felt so protective of people she barely knew, but she wanted him to approve of them, period.

‘That’s nothing
.’ Sophia made a rather poor job of trying to act indifferent. Her pleasure at being praised was evident in the way her eyes shone in the setting sun. ‘But thank you, dear. I do enjoy my painting a lot.’

They walked on, their feet
easily finding the harmonious rhythm that usually comes with longer acquaintance. Melanie thought of how different the Spitieris were from what she expected. Listening to Sophia chatting about her family, her stories frequently interrupted to point out some of the more interesting blooms, Melanie couldn’t help but feel at home, however strange it sounded. Talking about herself in return came naturally. Sophia’s good-natured interest in her life spurred her on.

‘Well, that’s the end of it
.’ They reached the lowest point of the garden, the low wall overgrown with ivy that separated the garden from the fields beyond. Melanie watched the evening air glimmer with the golden rays of the setting sun. The green fields turned bluish in the distance, feeling oddly peaceful and country-like considering it was Rome. Huge palms grew in clumps along the small country road dividing the end of the garden from the next field. Her delighted eyes noticed a small stone altar tucked between dark green yews overlooking a glimmering pond. Dark and mysterious, the water barely moved in the balmy evening air, the stone mirrored in its emerald surface.

‘There is a surprise around every corner
.’ She smiled and turned to the older woman. Their chat along the way made it much easier to sound familiar without feeling like she was overstepping some invisible boundary. ‘I absolutely love it here.’

‘Well, that’s very good, because I am sure you won’t want to spend all your time with our men
.’ For a second, Melanie wondered if she should make it clear Pete was not hers, but she dismissed the impulse almost immediately. She would come across as paranoid and ridiculous. The light comment was meant as a joke, nothing else.

‘But I have to warn you, you won’t have it all to yourself,’ Sophia continued, her eyes wrinkling
from her smile. ‘My husband’s colleague who is paying us a visit has a soft spot for the garden as well. He arrived just yesterday. He had to go to the city today to meet with an archive clerk for his research. He should be back shortly, though.’

That was her chance to find out more about the mystery man. Pete
hadn’t provided her with any details. He’d just said he was Spitieri’s old university colleague who happened to pick the same time for his visit, unfortunately. She could imagine some old, wise man sharing anecdotes from their time at the university over dinner. She still had no idea how was she supposed to distract him. The whole issue with his being in the way sounded ridiculous. Pete’s request was so outlandish and out of character she had problems taking it seriously.