Page 28 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘Oh my God, yes, I knew it,’ I whispered. Sotherewere all our customers. All those Brits from the bus tours were staying there. ‘They want to wipe us off the map.’

‘And the dead rat,’ Julian added. ‘They must have planted it when they came to stay and took a picture of it.’

I rubbed my face briskly and pondered and considered. And then, as the fruit of years and years in the business tackling anything that had come my way, I made my most important marketing–management decision ever.

‘I’m gonna kill them. Drive straight up there and punch the first face I see.’

Julian’s eyes widened. ‘Erica, you’ll do nothing of the sort.’

‘You expect me just to sit around and do nothing while we lose our business?’

‘We’re not going to lose the business.’

‘Damn right we’re not,’ I vowed. I had a plan. A mission.

7

No Turning Back

As you can imagine, I spent the day stabbing at my laptop by the edge of the pool, trawling for more info on the Cascianis as the kids wrapped up in terry towels to dry off. I’d made sandwiches for dinner and declared an early night for them so I could concentrate completely on this. As if they sensed something was wrong, they kept quiet and didn’t put up a fight when I sent them to bed, poor darlings.

I’d barely spoken to them all day. What kind of a mother had I morphed into? But I couldn’t bear to tell them what was happening, not now. How could I ever explain to them that Mommy was flailing?

‘The kids are settled,’ Julian whispered, kissing the side of my face, but I barely noticed, pounding away on my keyboard and looking for anything, anywhere, that would clear things up.

‘I’ve called Laura and explained the situation to her,’ Julian continued.

I looked up. ‘Who?’

‘Marco’s cousin, the lawyer? She’ll be back first thing tomorrow afternoon,’ he explained as he put a mug of chamomile tea on the table. ‘Drink. It’ll steady your nerves.’

‘My nerves are steady,’ I said and sipped gratefully. How well he knew me. This was the time to calm down and meditate on my next move. Although murder was what I really had in mind.

How dare these people attack us! Was there no one in this godforsaken country monitoring such unethical behavior? Were small family businesses simply left to their own devices? What if we couldn’t have afforded a lawyer? How would anyone else with lesser means have coped? This was bullying – mobbing – and completely unacceptable.

And then I had a terrible thought. What was going to happen to us if Laura couldn’t help? What if they weren’t technically breaking any laws? There was no law against being obnoxious. It looked like my plan wasn’t going to work. Learning as much as possible about them to counteract whatever they planned against us simply wasn’t enough.

And then a sudden urgency filled my heart. I wanted to enjoy as much of Tuscany as we could before disaster struck and we’d have to leave. Just like when on your last day of a fab vacation you realize it’s over and you start scurrying around for last-minute souvenirs as proof and reminders you actually had a great time, which was now rapidly – inexorably – coming to an end. We might as well get as much as we can out of this short, short stay in our land of dreams. Maybe visit every place we haven’t seen yet. We’d see, eat and drink the whole region out before we had to go.

Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Go where, exactly? Back to Boston, where smug, smug Marcy would be ready to pounce on me and say I should have listened to her and never left in the first place? Or back to The Farthington, even though I knew there would always be a job for me? The feeling of failure would permeate my very soul for the rest of my days.

And imagine my kids going back to Clifton Street School… They’d be at the mercy of everyone, especially the moms who would gladly have murdered me when rumors about Julian and me had started.

I didn’t care about myself, but Maddy and Warren would become the target of everyone’s scorn. I could already hear the vicious digs:Have you heard? Principal Foxham and that quirky woman who dragged him off to Europe? They’re back! Only there’s no way he’s ever getting his old job back, what with sleeping with a school mom. Shameful!(Never mind that they’d been practically lining up at his office door with lame excuses on a daily basis just to gawp at him.)

No. Never. No way was I going back to Boston to live. Or to die. After a lifetime of dreaming about a new life in Tuscany, I couldn’t just give up and leave. Like Scarlett O’Hara fromGone with the Wind, I’d defend my Tara plantation tooth and nail. I’d eat dirt and roots, too, if I had to, but I wasn’t budging from here.

‘You OK, love?’ Julian said.

‘I can’t believe this is happening to us,’ I huffed, rubbing my hands over my eyes.

Julian lowered himself onto the seat next to me and in one glance, we surveyed what we owned and were about to lose – the rolling hills, now purple in the falling darkness, the vineyards, the fields, the swimming pool – everything we’d always wanted. He took my hand.

‘I promise you it’ll be OK. By this time tomorrow, things will be clearer and at least we’ll know what’s what. Just be patient and optimistic, honey.’

I snorted. ‘Patient and optimistic – have we met? But I will get to the bottom of this, Julian. You mark my words.’

He chuckled. ‘That’s my girl – stay angry, Erica – it’s our only weapon tonight.’

---