Page 70 of When Love Gives You Lemons
“What a knight in shining polyblend.” She slaps his shoulder and Tyler blushes.
“Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys?” I ask. “I wanted to hit a woodshop or two Niccolò told me about yesterday.”
Tyler looks to Fielder like I wasn’t supposed to ask such a thing.
“No, sorry, no room at the inn,” Monroe says. “But I think Fielder got a cart. Maybe you can ride with him?”
“You’re going into town?” I ask him, my chest fluttering. Nerves or—
“I want to interview Niccolò Avello for my Clock channel. A three-part series I have in mind for . . . something.” He squints as he does when he rambles and reveals more than he wants to.
“Mind if I . . . ?”
“Absolutely!” Fielder says excitedly. Then, switching to a breezy tone, he coos, “Or whatever. No big. I can spare a seat.”
“Right,” I say, looking between the three of them.
On the winding ride around the mountain and toward the center of Amalfi, Fielder and I don’t say anything. Tyler and Monroe are huddled close together in the cart ahead of us, whispering like kids before a school dance.
Our driver pulls off and into the same area right out front of the entrance to the Avello Family Lemon Groves from yesterday and throws the cart into park. As the engine idles loudly, Fielder launches himself out and I follow suit.
Fielder looks at me quizzically.
“I figured you could use some company. You always loved going places for Clock with someone. Me, your mom, Nonna.” I pause before adding, “Matty.”
“I’ve gotten pretty good at going myself, believe it or not.” He crosses his arms.
“Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have ass—”
“You know what they say about assuming,” he says, and I know exactly where it’s going: dad joke central. “You ass is for me.”
“Still makes zero sense,” I say.
“Which makes it hilarious! Remember when we said it in front of Nonna?”
“Yeah, she smacked you.”
“Then laughed her ass off.”
“Because she has the mouth and mind of a sailor.” That’s whatNonno used to say about Fielder’s nonna. Once, about five years ago, we tried to set them up on a date. Turned out, they hated each other romantically. Nonno was too soft for her, and she was too abrasive for him. They laughed about it and ragged on each other over mugs of Lipton tea and Stella D’oro breakfast biscuits every Sunday until he passed away.
“Love that woman.” Fielder salutes the air. “Taught me everything I know.”
He starts toward the entrance to the groves, and when I don’t follow him, he stops and turns. “You coming?”
“I thought—”
He waves me on. “I’d love to spend the day with you. If you let me tag along to the woodshops with you.”
Fielder always was enamored by everything that enamored me. “Deal.”
More enthusiastic today than he was yesterday, Niccolò Avello is better than a trained actor: made to be on camera, bounding from lemon tree to lemon tree, talking about the hybrids and different varieties, giving viewers a rich history of Amalfi and his family. His blue eyes glimmer, and his crinkly, toothy smile is magnetic.
Fielder wastes no opportunity to ask him question after question about the land, rising sea levels, water scarcity, how tourism impacts the environment, and extreme temperature changes. He’s filming everything with an expert eye, referring to a notepad full of ideas and research he must have spent all night gathering. Fielder is so professional, a far cry from the early days of @LemonAtFirstSight where he didn’t know angles or consider lighting, and would aimlessly shoot.
Fielder frames Niccolò’s face like a studied cameraman, capturing the best he has to give with great sound bites about everything from their hives of bees to how their season used to stretch to October but because of the drastic shift in climate now wraps up in late August.
The conversation is insightful, and the way Fielder elicits these responses from Niccolò is expert-level journalism. I can’t help but look on in admiration, awe, and respect.
