Page 110 of The Husband Diet
‘No, unfortunately – I married your mother.’
‘I heard that,’ Marcy drawled as she slurped on her third Martini.
Dad shrugged his shoulders and winked.
41
Old Continent, New Life
Paul’s Tuscan friend, Roberto Luzzi, sent some more listings for Julian and me to view, with the additional extras Julian had asked for. I turned around in my chair to look at my man.
‘House-hunting is so much more fun with you.’
He bent to kiss me on the lips. ‘See? You should have asked me sooner.
‘Oh!’ I cried as I flipped the pages. ‘Look at this one!’
It was in Castellino, in the province of Siena near the border with Umbria, and it looked perfect.
In the space of one week, Julian and I had packed our belongings into a container. Well, not quiteallof them.
I walked into the back garden and threw all my big old clothes into an enormous heap and lit a match. Bonfire time. Here I was, shedding my old skin for a new one. I watched as my heavy past turned to ashes and lifted into the air in tiny embers riding on the early evening breeze. It was going to be a colorful summer. In every way.
I had a new killer wardrobe (Paul’s advice had finally stuck after all those years), with smaller-sized sexy black items, and reds, blues, greens, whites – lots of them – all light textures, because the winter was far from my mind. I’d never worn white pants in my life because black was more slimming. It was also more depressing.
I lifted out of the garbage bag the coat and brown dress I’d worn the day I’d met Julian again, in his office. I brought it close to my face and breathed in the smell of mothballs, remembering that day a million years ago and how it really did look like shit on me. The texture – thick and stiff – was all wrong. Plus, it belonged to another time, in a galaxy far, far away. So I plopped it onto the fire.
*
By week three, Julian and I had both miraculously sold our houses (someone up there was rooting for us), and resigned from our jobs, not without a bit of gossip in the teachers’ lounge, nor a bit of a fight from Harold Farthington. My boss hugged me and told me if I ever wanted to come back, I was welcome because I was the best manager he’d ever had, and if I was thinking of starting a rival company, he’d kill me. I smiled and hugged him back.
*
On week four we left the kids with my sister and together Julian and I flew to Sant’Egidio Airport in Umbria, for a quick recon visit to the best farmhouses of the batch and immediately made our decision. It was the house we’d seen in Castellino and it was love at first sight- just like when I’d first met Julian.
The farmhouse was tasteful – expensively tasteful – and extremely well-kept, from the gardens to the orchards to the olive groves to the vineyards. It had several fully renovated annexes and a couple more rustic. It also had two swimming pools, one for us and one for the guests. It looked like something out of a magazine. Better – out of a dream – my dream. And at the entrance, a beautiful, thriving, healthy rosebush. I couldn’t wait to tell Maddy and Warren. It was perfect. But for one minor detail.
I turned to Julian. ‘It’s two bloody million euros!’
‘Just go with it,’ he said, putting his arm around me.
‘But if you’ve got that kind of money lying around, why do I have to open a B & B? Why don’t we just piss off somewhere, never to be found?’
‘Because I know you. You’d get all itchy again and I’d have to put up with you.’
‘True,’ I sighed. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this house?’
‘You mean to deserveme.’
‘That, too. What have I ever done for you?’
‘You need to ask?’
‘Uh, ye-eah?’
Julian took my face in his hands. ‘You brought me back to life, kicked me out of my hibernation, pushed me to believe in myself again. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have written another book. Or learned to cook Italian. And…’ He kissed me so softly on the lips, I could almost taste his soul on them. ‘I’d still be a very lonely man without you. You’ve made my life, Erica.’
‘And you mine,’ I whispered back. ‘And of course, there’s the farmhouse, as well.’
