Page 48 of Retrograde
‘In Tuscany?’ Brett’s face lit up.
‘Yep. We’re going to help them renovate their farmhouse in Capannori.’ Lucie stood up, leading him out of the bedroom so they could get seated for their meal. Brett still needed to sober up.
‘You mean to tell me I get to spend the summer indulging in Rosa’s cooking, working on your dad’s classic cars and lounging around in the sun?’
‘And journalling, therapy, painting walls, fixing the roof…’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll be a busy boy. Still, I can’t think of anywhere better to get myself on the straight and narrow. Do you think your mum will make me her famous tiramisu?’ he asked, and he wasn’t exaggerating. It was literally famous; she had a bestselling cookbook published many moons ago.
‘I’m pretty sure she’s planning on bringing some to the airport so you can eat it in the car.’ Lucie’s mum had been making her ‘adopted son’ a tiramisu every single time she saw him for years.
‘I think I’m going to have to ask your dad for his wife’s hand in marriage.’
‘Brett, my darling!’ Rosa Carolan’s voice rang through the arrival terminal of Florence’s airport and just as Lucie had suspected, she stood there with her flip flops, summer dress, straw hat and a dish of tiramisu while Lucie’s dad, Mateo, waved an Australian flag on a stick. Never mind the fact their own daughter was there, too. Where was the American flag? Brett always got the fanfare, not just at the racetrack.
‘God, I love them,’ Brett laughed, causing Lucie to scowl and yank her suitcase out of his hand. She would carry it her damn self.
‘Hi, Mum. Dad.’ Lucie hugged them both before stepping aside so they could fawn over her best friend, pinching his cheeks.
‘Rosa, you made this for me?!’ Brett pretended to be shocked, and Rosa played up to it. She was born to be a perfect hostess.
‘Of course! We couldn’t welcome you without it.’
‘She already had it in the fridge,’ Mateo chuckled. ‘We’re so happy to have you both with us, we’re going to have such a good summer!’ Mateo flung an arm around his daughter as they walked to the car, unable to do the same to Brett due to their height difference. Lucie and her siblings were never going to inherit good height genes from her parents.
‘Brett, honey, you look like you need a couple of days lounging by the pool before we put you to work.’ Rosa spoke so fast, Lucie almost missed the insult.
‘Mum!’ Lucie whisper-yelled at her, but Brett looked nothing but amused. He was used to the lack of filter that all the Carolan women had been cursed with.
‘Goodness, I’m so sorry. That was insensitive.’
‘No worries, Mrs C. I can’t wait to see the farm. Did all your cars make it over in one piece, sir?’ Brett asked Mateo.
Her dad had inherited a car from her grandpa ten years ago, right when Lucie had started with the IEC and made a friend in Brett. Since then, he and Brett hadtravelled all over the world to find more for his collection. Mateo called them ‘investments’. Brett had gifted him a few; one for his fiftieth, one just because, and one when Mateo and Rosa had retired.
‘Oh, yes! I’m converting the barns to keep them all safe. Rosa is sacrificing her precious horses, at least until we figure out an alternative. Maybe another barn… custom built.’
‘Dad! You promised Mum she could have animals,’ Lucie tutted.
‘I don’t mind. If he’s out there converting the barns, then he’s out of my kitchen. You know how he always gets in my way. Drives me up the wall.’
‘Yeah, and she can have chickens instead. There is a lovely chicken coop out back.’
Lucie glanced at her mum as Brett and Mateo hurled the luggage into the car and was met with a look of pure disgust. Rosa may not want chickens, but she’d accept the apologetic gesture from her husband without complaint to save him feeling guilty.
Lucie couldn’t wait to see the kitchen in all its glory, almost certain that the photos she’d been sent didn’t do it justice. Her parents had begun renovating when they’d moved here a few years ago, and her Mum’s dream kitchen was a mammoth task that they’d been working on for the last eight months. It had terracotta accents, an island in the middle with wicker bar stools, two stoves because one would never be enough for Rosa, and an emerald-green tile splashback.
It reminded Lucie of her grandparents’ apartment inRome, it was where her parents had got their inspiration from, and Mateo had worked day and night when they’d first moved to give his wife a place that felt like home. Their house in Los Angeles had beenwaytoo modern, and not to their taste at all. That house had been all about making a good impression to their upper-class social circles.
They had both been born and raised in Italy. Rosa was an Italian film star, Mateo a budding director. They had moved to Los Angeles for bigger and brighter opportunities and hit the jackpot. Her parents may have been famous,especiallyin their home country, but the world had no idea Lucie and her sisters were connected to them. Sure, people knew they had children, but their identities were kept hidden much like Julien’s daughter had been until recently. Mateo had adopted the use of Rosa’s maiden name, Clemente, and they had both built their reputations on that. Their children used Mateo’s actual last name, Carolan, and lived a life out of the public eye.
The motorsport world didn’t know they had the heir of Hollywood cinema working for them, and Lucie preferred it that way. Only her closest friends knew.
She had overheard Jasper and Gabriel freaking out over her mother’s retirement from acting a few years ago in the back of the garage, and thanked the heavens she’d never told them. She was there to do a job she loved, not take the spotlight away from the drivers and the sport by journalists fishing for stories about her parents.
Rosa and Mateo had put so much money into theirkids’ futures, and so muchtimeinto ensuring their family was supported and cared for, that their own careers had fallen by the wayside. Opportunities dried up, their money dwindled and despite still getting attention from the media, they had to accept that Los Angeles wasn’t the place for them any more. They loved Italy, and they were excited to spend their retirement relaxing, and watching their lineage continue the family legacy in new and exciting ways.
Lucie’s oldest sister was a neurosurgeon, her middle sister a trauma surgeon and the youngest a pastry chef. Lucie was closest to the spotlight, but even she was so focused on the IEC’s social media presence that she often let her own slip through the cracks.
