My Life My Choice

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Maria drove, and we headed out of the city. We got on the autostrada headed toward Siena. It was the beginning of spring, and the light this time of year is simply beautiful to paint or photograph with; all the colors seemed brighter somehow. I was enjoying the scenery when Maria broke the silence.

“Warren, how is the family, is everyone good?”

“Everyone is doing well, Maria, and your family?”

“My dad has been ill, but he seems better now.”

Somehow, I felt she was going to steer the conversation to Cindy, trying to find out the status of our relationship.

“Warren, I hear your friend Cindy O’Brian has a new album out?”

“I knew it,” I said to myself

“I did hear that. I haven’t talked to her for a while. I have been busy finishing my last book. There’s something I wanted to ask you. The family is coming to Muriaglio in April to have my granddaughter baptized. My grandfather was baptized in the church there, and my daughter thought that it would be special to have her daughter baptized in the same church. It will be only my daughter, her husband, and her mother, my second wife. What I wanted to ask you is; I would like to invite you to stay with me as my guest. After they all leave, we can travel around Northern Italy for a few days.”

“I would love that, Warren. Do you have a date?”

“Not yet. Everyone is trying to sync their calendars. So far, the plan is to arrive a day or two before the baptism and leave a day or two after.”

“How fun, Warren.”

Just then, Maria took the exit off the autostrada and turned left onto Str. Dr. Cortine. After a few miles, she turned down a long gravel road lined with tall Italian Cypress. Before long, we arrived at Casa Sola-Chianti Winery. We pulled up and parked, and as we got out of the car, we were greeted by a man with his two dogs. He extended a hand and said, “Buongiorno, I am Giovanni Peruffo.”

“Buongiorno, I am Warren Steelgrave, and may I present Maria Sategna.”

“Piacere. I know Maria. How is your father?”

“He is doing much better, thank you.”

“Shall we start with a walk in the vineyards?”

We both agreed and began walking with Giovanni, the dogs leading the way. It was going to be a pleasant day and not too hot. The air smelled so clean, and the dogs were having so much fun handling their job of leading the way. After about twenty minutes of walking through the vineyards with Giovanni giving us a history of the winery and types of grapes grown, we came to the wine cellar.

The wine cellar was large, with walls made of stone and brick. It had four rooms for barrels of wine with a small corridor going between them; it was incredibly old. We were told the winery had been making wine since 1689. Next, we toured the winemaking process, then we went to the tasting room. In the tasting room, we sampled several of the winery’s wines paired with different cheese and salami. I bought a case of their Chianti Classico, and we started to the house for lunch.

We were seated at a small table on a terrace overlooking the vineyards, with a dark blue sky as a backdrop. The table was set with a white tablecloth, some bread, and a bottle of the same wine I had bought. I poured us both a glass and sat back, watching the two dogs play.

“Maria, this is simply beautiful, I am enjoying this a lot.”

I looked over at Maria, expecting a response. She was holding her glass of wine close to her face with both hands, peering over the top, looking out over the vineyards with a smile of contentment.

Just then, an elderly-woman, heavy, not obese, wearing a dress and apron; the universal image of a grandmother, approached and set down a plate of antipasti; salami, prosciutto, and melon. After about twenty minutes, she was back with spaghetti. Twenty minutes later, a plate of fried turkey fillets with lemon sauce. Then came a plate of cheeses and finally a plate of cookies and candied strawberries with our coffees.

Lunch took us well into the late afternoon.

Maria looked at her phone and said, “Warren, let’s go. I want to take you to the village of San Donato. The shops will be opening soon, and we can walk around and do a little shopping.”

“Let’s go!”

We got up and said our goodbyes and left. As we turned on to the paved road from the gravel road, I turned to Maria and said, “Are you dating anyone?”

Maria liked where this was headed. She smiled and answered, “No.”

“Can you think of a reason someone might follow you?”

This was not what she expected to her response. “No . . . Warren, why do you ask?”

“That car back there, parked on the side of the road, was parked across the street from your apartment.”

Maria sighing and shaking her head, said, “It’s not me, Warren. You are the only person I know who always has someone following him. What kind of trouble are you in now?”

“Nothing I can think of, Maria.”

We continued to the village of San Donato. San Donato was a small village with cobbled streets and fourteenth and fifteenth-century buildings. There, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets and shopping. In the early evening, we found a coffee bar and went in for a snack and a coffee.

“What should we do for dinner, Maria?”

“Are you hungry, Warren? Lunch was it for me today.”

“I agree, Maria. What time is the party tonight?”

“It’s not until 8:00. We will have time to return to my apartment and freshen up a bit before we go.”

We got up and headed back to the car.

“Warren, have you seen that car anymore?”

“No. All foreign cars look alike to me. It was probably two different cars, of the same color.”

We got to her car and started back to Florence when I asked, “Tell me a little about who will be at the party tonight?”

“There is not much to tell, Warren. It will be just a small group of friends, maybe twelve. Some are painters. The host of the party is a college professor at the University of Florence. He teaches a class on Renaissance Art, and one writer who wants to meet you.”

I didn’t reply; I just turned my attention to the passing landscape. Having never gone to college, I always felt at odds with such a group. My view of the world was always different than that of a group of intellectuals. At least with this group, they won’t be able to tell how badly I speak American English.

We arrived back at Maria’s apartment just before 7:00 p.m. and went in to freshen up.

“I won’t be long, Warren, I just want to change my clothes. We have time for a drink before we go. I have an opened white wine in the refrigerator; would you pour me a glass?” Then with a little smile and a chuckle, she continued. “I have gin in the ice-box if you want something stronger.”

I found glasses and poured her a glass of wine and made myself a martini and walked out to the deck and sat down. Looking at the view with a martini in hand, I started thinking of Cindy and all the times we would sit out on my terrace or a balcony somewhere and drink martinis.

Maria appeared and sat down. We talked about the events of the day, finished our drinks, and left for the party.