Aged for Malice Read online

  “What a shame. Are you heading out elsewhere, Daniel?” Mrs. Glass asked. To Olivia’s bemusement, she seemed to have taken a liking to him. Olivia knew she wouldn’t have done that if he’d been introduced as her boyfriend.

  Given this development, it might be better not to blurt out that they were in a relationship, she wondered, agonizing over the difficulty of the decision.

  “His name’s Danilo,” she muttered, in an attempt to fix some of the mess, but her mother wasn’t looking at her. She was waiting expectantly for him to reply.

  “I’m heading home. I have to finish off polishing a set of wooden tables,” Danilo explained with a tight, apologetic smile before wolfing down another mouthful of food.

  That was also not true. He’d been planning to stay the night at Olivia’s. He’d even brought along his gym bag. He could have varnished the tables in the morning, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave as fast as possible.

  “How lovely. So you work with wood?”

  “I do,” Danilo tried for a polite, joyless smile.

  “That must be very artistic and creative,” her mother enthused.

  “It is,” Danilo answered, sounding less-than-enthusiastic himself.

  “Olivia’s also creative. How long have you two known each other?” Mrs. Glass asked curiously.

  This was her chance. As Olivia was drawing breath to spill the truth about their relationship, Danilo replied again.

  “Not long,” he said. “Only a couple of weeks.”

  She stared at him in consternation. Clearly in the worst mood she’d ever seen him in, he was now agreeing with her fake story and that meant she could move no further with her confession.

  “I’m going to head into town,” Charlotte said, brightening as she glanced at her phone. “Artoro just messaged me to say he’ll be free in half an hour. The criminals of Siena have been holding back, he says. His case load is under control. So we’re going to meet up for coffee and cake.”

  Charlotte grinned merrily and, despite her own worries, Olivia couldn’t help feeling a flash of excitement that her bestie’s romance was clearly going well.

  While Olivia was struggling with her last mouthfuls, wishing she had more enthusiasm for her meal, both Danilo and Charlotte were already stacking their plates in the sink.

  “Ciao,” Danilo said formally.

  “Let me walk you out,” Olivia jumped to her feet, her serviette fluttering to the ground. But it was too late. Danilo had already marched outside.

  “Go and say goodbye to Daniel. He seems a very charming young man,” her mother urged her, as Olivia sprinted out of the kitchen and broke land-speed records catching up with her angry ‘friend’ just before he climbed into his car.

  “Danilo, Danilo, I’m sorry!”

  She grabbed his arm as he turned to face her. He looked every bit as hurt and distressed as she’d feared.

  Knowing she had only moments to make things right, Olivia did her best.

  “I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

  “To say I was just a friend?” Danilo’s eyebrows rose together with his voice.

  “No, no. To stop my mother from giving you a hard time all night. Danilo, I know she has an ulterior motive for being here, and when she gets that way, she’s impossible. I didn’t want her to focus negatively on you. I – I –” Olivia found herself almost sobbing with the need to speak her next words. “I want you and her to be friends, and not to get off on the wrong foot. Now that she thinks you’re not a threat, she likes you. Otherwise, she’d have had problems with you from the start, and I know she could have said hurtful things. I didn’t want that to happen, because – because you’re a part of my life. An important part.”

  Danilo stared at her and she couldn’t read his face.

  “I must go,” he said curtly, and climbed into his car without a kiss or a hug or a proper goodbye.

  Feeling sick with stress, Olivia ran back to the farmhouse. Her mother had already cleared the dishes with her customary efficiency, put the leftover food in the fridge, and had turned the coffee maker on.

  Olivia would rather have had another glass of wine at this tense time, but it looked like coffee was the only polite choice.

  Her mother turned to her, and her next words threw Olivia all the way onto the back foot.

  “My angel, I decided to book this visit to confirm something, which I now see very clearly,” Mrs. Glass explained.

  “What is that?” Olivia asked, feeling nervous.

  “Your home is in a beautiful, friendly, and safe country where there are so many opportunities. You have so many directions to apply your talents.”

  Olivia blinked. Had she been wrong? Was her mother actually complimenting her humble farmhouse and her brave attempts at starting a vineyard? It sure sounded like it!

  “You think?” she asked incredulously.

  “I see so much potential in your future,” her mother continued with a sweeping movement of her arm.

  “Thank you,” Olivia said, feeling emotion surge up. Prematurely, as it happened.

  “Given all of that,” Mrs. Glass continued in brisk tones, “it’s absolutely beyond me why you felt the need to move to Tuscany.”

  Olivia gaped at her mother. She’d never expected that conversational bombshell to land.

  “But – but Italy is my home now!” she protested.

  “It’s not your home and never will be. Do you seriously think you will ever be accepted by the local community? Sweetheart, I don’t want you living your life as an outsider, far from the support of your family and friends.”

  “Charlotte might move here,” Olivia argued in a small voice.

  “Might? Because of a vacation romance that’s lasting a few days longer than she expected?”

  “Her work wants her to relocate,” Olivia mumbled, but she could tell her mother wasn’t convinced.

  Perhaps the worst part of all of this was that there was a grain of truth in these warning words. It felt as if Mrs. Glass was tapping into her deepest fears, the ones she’d never thought about. Wondering if she could ever be accepted into the community, and if Danilo’s family would ever take her seriously.

  “I thought we could look at some opportunities back home, as a comparison point. I’ve brought along a folder of simply gorgeous apartments that you could easily afford if you sold this farm, particularly now that you’ve fixed it up a bit and done some planting and landscaping. And as for jobs, well, New York is truly the land of promise for advertising creatives at this time. Wait until you see what’s out there, and the salaries. From what I understand, your wage now is only just making ends meet. Your farm clearly needs a great deal more capital investment for it to be successful. You can’t build it up when you’re barely scraping by.”

  Olivia thought uncomfortably of her to-do list that seemed to multiply exponentially week by week, and the sleepless nights she’d been having when she thought about how she would juggle her day job with the increasing demands of all her new plantations. She needed to hire full-time help, but that wasn’t even a possibility at this stage.

  Inexorably, her mother continued. “Never mind years, it will take decades to grow a business like this when you can’t afford what you need.”

  Olivia felt herself waver. Perhaps she should just have a look. It would be wrong not to sensibly weigh up her options. What if Danilo never forgave her, she thought with a thrill of fear.

  “You need to start taking responsibility for your life,” her mother urged.

  That comment jerked Olivia out of her indecision, and a wave of anger washed over her. She was thirty-four years old. In just over a week, she’d be thirty-five. She didn’t need her mother treating her like a child, which was exactly what she always did when Olivia acted in a way she didn’t approve of.

  “I’m perfectly capable of making my own choices,” she shot back. Even if they were bad ones, she added silently to herself. “Hundreds, in fact thousands
of Americans move to Italy and fit in just fine. I have a life, and a future, and a job. If it takes decades to make my wine farm a success, then so be it. As long as I’m happy, it doesn’t matter.”

  Her mother’s face hardened in the way that it did when Olivia spoke against her.

  “You’re being very foolish,” she warned in threatening tones. “Choices have consequences.”

  “If you traveled all the way to tell me that, you’ve just wasted your trip,” Olivia flashed back, finally losing it. “You said you came here for a vacation, and to visit me. You can either enjoy Italy and have fun with your only daughter, or spend the entire time arguing. It’s your choice.” She turned and headed for the kitchen door, needing some air. At the door, she thought of something else and turned back.

  “All choices have consequences, including yours. Perhaps you should think about that.” she delivered her parting shot, in tones just as threatening as her mother’s had been.

  She stomped up to her room, seething with angst over how badly the day had turned out and worrying that, with her mother on a mission, tomorrow would be even worse in ways she hadn’t yet imagined.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, as she strode out of the farmhouse heading to work, Olivia was still fuming over the events of last night. Frustration boiled inside her as she remembered her mother’s words. Mrs. Glass had an ability to get inside Olivia’s head and plant doubts, even when she’d done her best to ignore the fearmongering. As a result, she felt rattled and out of sorts.

  In contrast, her mother had been all calmness and charm this morning, drinking coffee with Charlotte and planning a walk to the village as if their confrontation last night had never happened. That made it even worse. Was Olivia the only one who felt scarred by the conflict?

  Glaring suspiciously at her goat’s chunky belly, Olivia had to acknowledge, not for the first time, that she and her mother really did rub each other up the wrong way. She loved her mother, but right now, her interference was souring their relationship, which had never been as close as Olivia thought it should have been.

  Was it like this because Olivia was an only child?

  Or were their personalities too different for them ever to get on without conflict?

  Olivia hoped that she could forget her worries by immersing herself in work. It was going to be a busy day, especially if she was going to get enough done to take time off the following day. Marcello wasn’t yet back at the winery. He was traveling to France today on the next stage of his mentorship in the world of organic winemaking. That meant Olivia was in charge. Her angst over her mother mustn’t cause her to lose focus on her job, she warned herself.

  As she headed down her favorite road, lined with tall cedar trees that looked majestic in the glow of the morning sun, Olivia started to feel better. And, when La Leggenda appeared in front of her and she saw its sun-kissed stone buildings cradled in the verdant hills, she felt her misgivings disappear and confidence in her future return. This was her workplace, filled with her colleagues and friends. She belonged here!

  Olivia strode up the paved driveway to the winery’s elegant main entrance, glancing appreciatively at the planters in the parking lot. They were filled with lavender and geraniums that were now blooming with color.

  With a scrunch of wheels, Jean-Pierre, her assistant vintner, pulled up in the lot and climbed out of his tiny Renault.

  “Buongiorno, Olivia,” he greeted her.

  “Buongiorno,” she replied with a smile as she walked between the elegant stone pillars and through the wide entrance door. Inside the lobby, the resident statue had been decorated with a springtime-themed wreath around its neck, and La Leggenda’s latest vintages were displayed on a table together with a vase of bright flowers, and a sumptuous bowl of seasonal fruits. It felt uplifting to walk in and breathe the summery aroma of melons and figs, Olivia thought. The table had been her idea, to add a personal and welcoming touch to the winery.

  She felt grateful that her job was constantly expanding, allowing her to use her talent and experience in marketing, as well as learning every day about winemaking. Her mother was wrong. This was her dream career. Even if her own winery did take decades, there was opportunity for unlimited growth in this role.

  “Olivia, I think we should update the tasting sheets, especially with Collina Wine Week kicking off soon,” Jean-Pierre suggested as they headed into the large, airy tasting room. “Can we include the collaboration wine that we made with Collina Cellars? I tasted it yesterday and it is a wonderful blend of vermentino and sauvignon blanc. I found it to be fruity and very deliciously fragrant, with a hint of a sparkle.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Olivia praised her assistant sommelier. She was proud by how passionately the tall, lanky Frenchman was embracing his job. He was taking ownership of the tasting room and growing his skills with every day that passed.

  She, too, was looking forward to Collina Wine Week. It was a promotional event where locals from the area were offered free tastings and a discount on their first bottle purchased.

  Marcello had started it as an experiment last year, and it had been wildly successful. It had built La Leggenda’s name in the area, together with an enormous amount of goodwill. Sales through the year had reflected this.

  Olivia couldn’t wait to experience it this year. It would be the first time she was involved. How exciting it would be to promote their wine to the wonderful locals of Collina, and reward them for their loyalty and support. She hoped that she and Jean-Pierre would make Marcello proud.

  Jean-Pierre headed behind the wooden counter and made his way purposefully to the back office. Heading to Marcello’s office, Olivia knew that in a few minutes the printer there would start humming as Jean-Pierre sent through the updated sheets.

  Meanwhile, she had a host of orders to check. The La Leggenda reds had sold extremely well during the winter season, both in Europe and in the other international markets where they’d managed to get a foothold. As a result, there was a surge in demand for their white wines with the onset of summer.

  Olivia didn’t want to promise what she couldn’t deliver, and clearly Nadia, Marcello’s younger sister and the estate vintner, felt the same. Olivia had barely sat down on the leather chair in Marcello’s office before Nadia came rushing in.

  “Olivia! I have an idea!” Nadia exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Olivia asked. She had a feeling it was going to be a good one. Nadia’s dark eyes were blazing with excitement.

  “I would like to make a new white wine blend this year. There are a few fields in our new winery near Pisa that are producing vermentino and sauvignon blanc grapes of exceptional quality. I want to blend them with the La Leggenda whites and create a new label. Not quite as high-end as our wines, not quite as mass-market as the other winery. Something in between the two that we can position as ultra-modern, top quality, and take internationally at an even more competitive price point. We will have enough stock to fulfill demand, and hopefully sell what we produce.”

  “I love that idea,” Olivia enthused. “I will think of some catchy names and play with visuals today, as soon as I’ve dealt with all the suppliers. Have you spoken to Marcello about it?”

  This was a major step for the winery to take. Even though she was in charge, Olivia knew she’d feel more comfortable if Marcello had given it his seal of approval. Most likely, he’d have some great ideas too.

  Nadia shook her head. “I wanted to run it past you first. Now that you love it, I will present it to him. And in the meantime, I will experiment with some blending.” She gave Olivia a conspiratorial wink before rushing away in a whirlwind of energy.

  Olivia turned her attention to the orders and went through them, working with care and attention. She focused carefully on the details so that she didn’t make a mistake with the numbers – her weakest point. Replying to every mail and message in an efficient, friendly way would strengthen the winery-supplier relationship.

&nb
sp; As she completed the last order, her phone rang.

  “Buongiorno,” she answered.

  “Olivia, it is Gabriella.”

  Olivia tensed as she recognized the shrill voice of the restaurateur who had been her rival since the day she’d started at La Leggenda.

  “How can I help?” she said in extra friendly tones.

  “The restaurant has received a wedding booking.” Gabriella sighed in an expressive way that said, clearly, such an event was likely to bring trouble along with it. “A party of seventy guests. They are looking at the last Saturday in July. We will need to book out the whole winery for that day and night, as they will require a place to dance.”

  “No problem.” Quickly, Olivia scribbled a note on the desk calendar. “I’ll put a quote together. Do you have the details?”

  “I wrote them down as I spoke to the mother of the bride.”

  “I’ll get the page from you now,” Olivia said.

  She grabbed the bookings folder, and rushed through to the restaurant, where Gabriella was stationed at the reception desk. Her tawny hair was done up in an immaculate bun.

  She hoped that this quick encounter would strengthen the bonds of – well, friendship was the wrong word. The bonds of tolerance, Olivia decided, that were slowly developing between them. But a wedding booking was dangerous ground.

  After all, the last wedding at La Leggenda had resulted in a murder!

  Luckily, Gabriella didn’t seem to be thinking about that traumatic time as she stared at Olivia in a not-unfriendly way.

  “This is our third wedding booking already for the year. Clearly, marriage is in the air,” she declared, handing over the paper.

  “It’s great to see that we’re becoming popular. Is this a local party?” Olivia asked.

  “They are from Britain. Let’s hope they are less difficult guests than Americans.” She gave Olivia a sidelong glance.

  Olivia knew she was remembering all too well what had happened last time.

  It would be better to defuse the situation and agree. Becoming defensive about her home country was definitely the wrong move, when the wedding party had in fact been obnoxious, difficult guests, and when one of them had killed the groom-to-be.