Page 26 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘We can’t lose this place! We just can’t!’ I cried.

‘Sweetie, we won’t.’

‘How can you say that? How can you not be worried?’

Julian shrugged. ‘Because no one can take your license away without any proof. That’s just a photo of a rat.’

‘Yes, but taken by who? Who would want to do this to us?’

‘We’ll soon find out,’ he promised as he pulled his phone out his back pocket and dialled a number off by heart.

‘Who are you calling?’

He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed as he spoke. ‘Marco? It’s me, Julian. Can you call your lawyer cousin and ask her to come over here tomorrow? We have a problem. I’ll explain it to you later. Thanks,amico…’ He looked down at me. ‘He truly is a good friend. Now just try to relax and not worry too much. Tomorrow is another day.’

‘But I can’t sit around while someone’s trying to destroy us! I have to do some investigating, gauge the damage…’

‘Sweets, this isn’t The Farthington, where you kick ass and it’s done. This time you’re going to have to sit back and let someone else do the work for you.’

As if I’d ever been able to do that. I was a natural problem-solver. A serial trouble-shooter. It was my nature and what I did best. But when my own family’s well-being was concerned, it was hard to be as lucid.

‘Are you sure a lawyer can solve this? We both know how the Italian law and bureaucracy work. Look how long it took us just to get residency.’

‘Erica,’ he said, taking both my hands. ‘It’ll be fine. But you have to stop worrying.’

I studied him. Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t as emotionally involved as I was?

*

At precisely four o’clock the next day, Laura Magri, Marco’s cousin, drove up to our front door in a Lamborghini. She was tall, just like his side of the family, commanding and beautiful. She knew what she was talking about and I liked her on the spot.

‘I’ve spoken to the NAS in person. They knew nothing about it, so someone is just playing a horrible joke on you.’

‘Thank God,’ I exhaled.

‘But I’ve asked around. These people, whoever they are, have done it before – to restaurants, B & Bs, hotels…’

‘But why?’

‘Tuscans are insanely competitive,’ she answered.

‘But we are in good relations with hundreds of colleagues all over the region – the entire B & B association. Who would pick on us in particular?’ Julian asked.

‘Can we sue them when we find them?’ I asked.

Laura looked over at me, saw a kindred spirit and smiled.

‘You could, although I’d wait to have absolute proof of their identity and see what it is they really want. I’m guessing they want to see you closed for good.’

‘But this is our livelihood!’ I cried.

‘Honey,’ Julian whispered, taking my hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized. ‘I’m upset.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘Usually these things go away with very little money.’

‘But we shouldn’t have to pay anyone anything,’ Julian reminded her. ‘This is absurd.’

---