Page 54 of I Think Olive You
Isabella gasps but I avoid her gaze, even though I can feel it burning a hole into the side of my face.
Andrea sees something in my expression, or his connection to my father is enough to sway him, because he nods.
“Give me a few days and I’ll have a new one ready to sign.”
Standing, I thrust my hand out to shake his again, and take my leave before the emotions inside my chest have a chance to leak out.
One part of me hates how rude and brusque I’ve been. The other predominantly stupid side that runs most of my life is done, already focused on the next thing. Now I’m in town it’s the perfect time to find some stuff for the farmhouse. I can take time to see a doctor.
I can’t keep pretending my years of fucking around have no consequences. It’s better to find out now. If I’m starting out on a new leaf, I’d rather know where I’m at to plan accordingly. Sticking my head in the sand has gotten me nothing but anxiety.
“Matteo,” Isabella says somewhere behind me. A second, more insistent and intimidating one following.
“Matteo de Palma.”
Stopping on the sidewalk, I turn to face the short old lady scowling up at me.
“What?”
Rolling her eyes, Isabella waves her hand at me in frustration. “Don’t ‘what’ me. You didn’t tell me what would happen if you let go of Abundantia.”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” Not when the alternative is them losing their home—their history and lifeblood.
“Of course, it matters. Just because you made mistakes and lied to my granddaughter and our family doesn’t mean you should suffer.”
“Wow, way to guilt trip me while giving me grace.”
“I’m Catholic. Guilt comes free with the rosary beads.”
“What’s more important is making sure you are taken care of. There’s no way to know what my father’s right-hand-man will do when I don’t meet the terms of the inheritance. All I can do is my best to protect you.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“Now, I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m fixing up the old farmhouse for Giuliana. Would you help me find what I need?”
Having someone to translate would be extremely useful.
“Furniture might be difficult depending on what is in stock,” she says, “but we can get paint and more cleaning supplies—some decor.”
“I’m reusing as much of the furniture as possible and polishing or sanding what I can to spruce it up. We’ll need mattresses and pillows.” I tick off a few things in my mental checklist and Isabella and her little legs keep up with me easily once we head out to find items at various stores.
Her suggestions are super helpful, especially when we go to the hardware store—things like primer and a long roller being better than paint brushes for wall painting. All stuff a regular person would have known.
But you’ve been stuck in a glass cage for years, every whim catered to. Useless.
Not anymore. That’s not who I am anymore. This renovation is for Giuliana’s future but it’s also something I can do to prove myself—to show I’m better than I was. Not to Alan. Not to Giuliana since she never even knew me before. No, this is for me.
Between tins of paint and a wall of swatches, I breach the silence.
“Giuliana mentioned Umberto tried to mess with the harvest date and you had a plan to take care of it, but didn’t say any more.”
Isabella’s hands ball into fists at her side, strong from years of work. “That man… so greedy and so good at pretending. Lorenzo didn’t see it and Giuliana found out too late. I was so focused on caring for Lorenzo and Chiara, I missed it.”
“It’s not your fault. Men like him—like me—we keep our cards close to the vest.”
Scoffing, the rage melts from her body. “Matteo, you are nothing like him.”
The words soothe something in me I didn’t know was smarting until now. And then the comfort is promptly dashed by Isabella’s sharp tongue.
“Even if you didn’t look like your father, I saw you from a mile away. You’ve watched Giuliana like a lovesick calf for months and there’s not a mean bone in your body. If you really wanted to take the grove you could have done it from New York with one phone call to the lawyer and an expensive investigation.”