My Life My Choice

Chapter 1

Chapter 1It was early Friday morning, and I was driving to Florence from my home in Muriaglio, Italy. I had left the village about three hours before and was on the Autostrada near Viareggio, almost to Pisa. It was a clear spring morning, and the Tuscan light shining on the sea was beautiful. The five-hour drive to Florence gave me plenty of time to think of all the ways my life had changed since my wife and I discovered my grandfather’s village: Muriaglio.

Muriaglio is a small village approximately forty kilometers north of Turin Italy near the start of the Aosta Valley. Several years back, my third wife and I had found it on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. To our surprise, we were greeted by a family member whom I didn’t know existed.

I started studying Italian, sold my electrical contracting business, and began going back every year to visit. I can’t explain the deep emotional ties I have to Muriaglio; only to say walking into that village gave me a sense of belonging I had been searching for my entire life.

A few years after finding the village, my wife died in a car crash, and I began living most of the year in Muriaglo. Today I am driving to Florence, Italy, to keep a promise I made to Maria Sategna.

Maria was thirty-five years old. She was about five feet eight inches tall with long black hair and dark, seductive eyes. She wasn’t thin, but was not heavy, with the little extra weight made use of in all the right places. Twice she has helped me out of some tough spots. We met about five years ago when I was studying Italian in Florence. I rented one of her apartments while in school for a month. I met Cindy O’Brian in class and fell in love. Cindy found herself in a bit of trouble, and Maria helped Cindy and me get out of Italy while being chased by the FBI, terrorists, and Home-land Security. Then again, eighteen months ago, she hid a friend and me in one of her apartments, risking retribution from the Moretti crime family for doing so. I owe her a great debt for her help over the years, and today I’m on my way to make a payment.

I feel very close to Maria and would do anything for her. I know she would like the relationship to be more, but she has accepted the fact that I’m deeply in love with Cindy O’Brian.

Cindy was married with children and devoted to her family. We acknowledged our love for each other and didn’t pursue it any further. Two years ago, she turned up in Muriaglio. Her husband divorced her for another woman, and she came to Italy looking for me. We spent the most perfect six months together. During this time, she released a number one record album. While on tour, she attracted a stalker/serial killer and was abducted and almost killed in Italy near Muriaglio. It was very traumatic for her and her family, especially her ex-husband. He had a lot of remorse and regrets, and he asked her to come home. She left and went back home in hopes of putting her marriage back together for her children.

That is the status of my life; in love with a woman I haven’t had contact with for eighteen months, living alone in Italy most of that time, and on my way to spend the weekend with a woman who would love our relationship to be more than it is. It sounds like the life of a writer, and it is. My name is Warren Steelgrave. I wrote my first book, The Willing, about escaping Italy with Cindy O’Brian, and it became a best seller. I just sent my third novel to my editor, and I’m off to Florence for the weekend.

I always get confused as to which part of town you can drive in, so I park in a parking garage near the airport and take a taxi. I get off the autostrada and make my way to the long-term parking, Sosta Lunga P3, near the airport. I have never been to Maria’s apartment, and I’m very impressed as I get out of the taxi. The apartment building is near the Piazzale Michelangelo. It is not an overly large building; a pale yellow, and very ornate. I walk up the marble steps to the large wooden carved door. To the right of the door is the list of the apartments by name. There are only nine apartments in the building. I find Maria’s name and push the button next to it. As I wait, I get a feeling I’m being watched. I hope Maria doesn’t have a jealous boyfriend.

“Pronto”

“Ciao, Maria. It’s Warren.”

“Ciao Warren. Come up to the third floor.”

Just then, I heard the door unlock. I opened it, entered the marbled entrance, and started up the stairs with my small weekend bag. I started up the last flight of stairs and standing at the top is Maria. She is wearing a white cotton blouse pulled just off the shoulders and tucked into the waist of a red skirt with a wide black belt and black flats for shoes. Her long dark hair had soft curls hanging over one shoulder. She had very little makeup on, and simple but expensive jewelry. Looking up at her confident and seductive eyes, I thought I was looking at a fashion magazine cover.

“Ciao, Maria”

“Ciao, Warren, come stai?”

“Va bene! E tu?”

I could tell by her little smile she was happy at my gawking at her looks.

“I have our day planned, Warren. Come and put your bag away and have a coffee. I will explain, hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all Maria I’m yours for the weekend.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, I sat down my bag and gave her a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks. God, she smelled good. It felt so good to hold a woman in my arms; it had been a while. Picking up my bag, I followed her into the apartment and to my room. The room was small but well-appointed. It had an antique bed and armoire and a window that looked out over the city of Florence.

“Make yourself comfortable, Warren. I will go prepare the coffee.”

I unpacked and freshened up a little in the bathroom and needed to shave again. I changed my shirt and walked to the kitchen. Maria was just pouring the coffee.

“You have a beautiful apartment, Maria.”

Looking up with that smile of hers, she said, “Thank you, Warren.” She handed me an espresso and continued, “Let’s have our coffee on the balcony. I remember how much you like views.”

I followed her out to the balcony. The view was stunning. We sat at a small table on the balcony that overlooked the Arno river with a great view of the city and the Ponte Vecchio.

Maria was looking at me with true excitement in her eyes, and said,

“Warren, I want to take you to a small winery near Chianti. After a long walk through the vineyards and some wine tasting of Chianti Classico, they will prepare for us a nice lunch. Also, there is a small village on the way back that I want to show you. After I would like to introduce you to a few local people. I have a good friend who is having a party for a few artists and writers. I wanted to show you off and told them we would come. I hope it is OK?”

“Of course, Maria.”

Let s go.

We finished our coffees, placed the cups in the sink, and headed out the door.

***

Giacomo picked up his cell phone and made a call.

“Pronto.”

“Piero, it’s Giacomo. Steelgrave has just left with Maria.”

“Giacomo, you have to make a connection with him today.”

“I understand, Piero. I will stay close and get to him the first chance he is alone.”