Page 26 of Ciao, Amore

Flushing, Dani said, “Grazie per l’ospitalità.”

“Wow, you sound like a real Italiana,” Nonno said with a chuckle. “When Nico told me your name was Daniela Martina, I thought for sure you were Italian, but he says your family is from Curaçao.”

“Yes, my parents came to New York in their twenties.”

“They made a good decision. I did the same. Did Nico tell you I went to university there? That’s how I met his grandmother, Rosalia. I miss it so much. But with the winery and the problems we’ve been having with the flooding, I can’t go very far for a visit these days.”

At the mention of the vineyard, she shot a look at Nico, who shrugged with a weak smile.

“His grandmother and I went to Aruba a long time ago. They have a similar language to Curaçao. The Creole?” Nonno continued walking, ushering them down a different corridor.

“Papiamentu, yes,” Dani supplied.

Nico could tell she was impressed. Not very many people had even heard of Curaçao, let alone knew what language was spoken there.

“Do you speak it, Dani?” Nonno asked.

“I do. I’m not as fluent as I used to be when I was little, but I can hold a conversation.”

“What about Dutch and Spanish? Is Dutch still the official language?”

“Yes and yes. My parents made sure to speak them in front of us.”

Nico’s eyebrows rose at her answer. He knew she spoke Papiamentu, as Didi had made rapid-fire comments to her and her sister in that language when he was at their house. She hadn’t mentioned Spanish or Dutch for his Daniela Grace notebook. But that was a minor omission compared to what he’d just told her.

“A linguist and beautiful? Oh, I like her,” Nonno continued, looking at Nico with approval.

“Told you she’s great, Nonno.” Nico stared at her.

Oblivious, Nonno kept right on talking, down more hallways lined with framed portraits and photos. There was no trace of Patrick and the kids. Probably down one of the other halls in the playroom, trying to tire them out before bed.

“I remember the first day I landed in the States. I went to Connecticut to study at Yale. It was so exciting for the first few days, but then—” Nonno laughed. “It was so boring. I said to myself, ‘This is America?’ I always pictured it as being wild and free. My friend at Columbia said, ‘Transfer here if you can.’ And I did. It was the best decision I made in my life. Well, until I married Nico’s nonna. I didn’t think I’d come back to Italy to become a grape farmer, but that’s life.”

Dani didn’t bombard either of them with questions or betray that the wine-making was news to her. Along the way, Nonno pointed at some of the paintings and named the people in them. More ancestors, in different period dress spanning hundreds of years.

She asked, “Were many of these painted on the terrace?”

“You have a good eye,” Nonno complimented her. “Yes. They would come stay here in the winter after the Christmas holidays until it got too warm; then they would return to the estate outside Parma. That’s where our winery still operates and where the manor house is located, where Nico will live. You’ll love it there. Our history is a beautiful tapestry, but it hangs by a very thin thread,” Nonno finished with a head shake.

Dani’s eyes widened when Nonno said Nico would live there and she’d love it too. He didn’t blame her. She came here thinking she’d play the girlfriend for two weeks, not the fiancée who’d someday live in an estate in the Italian countryside.

“Has Nico had a chance to show you the rest of the villa?”

“Not yet, Nonno,” Nico said.

“Okay. The two of you go ahead and see the villa. I’m getting a little tired, so let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” Nonno said, touching Nico’s chest.

“Okay.Buona notte, Nonno. See you in the morning.”

Nonno kissed him on both cheeks, then kissed Dani in the same manner. “Buona notte, bella.”

“Good night, Mr…” Nico had told her his grandfather’s name was Marco Capelli. Apparently unsure what name was accurate at this point, Dani faltered.

His grandfather settled it for her. “Nonno.”

Then Nonno went left where the hallway branched off toward his and Nonni’s bedroom suite. They’d moved down to the first floor a few years back when climbing stairs became a more daunting task.

He and Dani watched till Nonno disappeared around the corner, and then Nico led her to yet another hallway to a flight of polished wood stairs with carpeted risers. Dani walked behind him and remained quiet as they passed a series of doors. From behind one of them came the sounds of a couple engaged in either intense arguing or energetic sex.

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