The plane was on time; Aggie was late.
“Sleep well?” he asked, tossing his bag onto the plane.
“Yes, we did,” Alana replied, “even without sleeping in like someone I know.”
After a brief trip and a soft landing on an isolated airstrip in Tuscany, they were taxiing along a private runway not far from the abbey. Alana had made arrangements for a car with Rafaela who insisted on joining them.
“Just to protect your car?” Alana asked.
“Yes, but I thought it would be a good way to get some time with you.”
“That’s sweet,” Alana added with a chuckle, “but I don’t believe you. You’re just prying into what we’re doing.”
“Yes, and that,” came the reply.
They drove through the rolling hills of Tuscany, past vineyards and farmland, until they reached the ancient stone abbey of Sant’Antimo on th
