Page 15 of Strictly Business

Romy and Nina have spent the past year pouring over the work their parents had done, delving further into the history of the Villa family and its roots. They knew Alessio, their great-grandfather, worked in a vineyard in the Province of Ancona and notes from Audrey pointed to the name Vitali. There are two vineyards in the province that trace back to the name Vitali, and only one with a potential connection to the Villas. Bacami Vineyard in Estranei — the owners Camilla and Enzo Vitali, siblings.

The discovery of Bacami Vineyard was three months ago. Since then, Nina and Romy have been planning this trip to learn more about their family. Unfortunately, Audrey isn’t healthy enough to join them.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when the long-lost Villa cousin stepped out of the black SUV, but it was not a paler version of Nina. Same height and hair color. It was like someone hit copy and paste with a -3 on skin pigmentation. Romy speaks excitedly into her phone in a language I don’t recognize. French, maybe? Her eyes practically roll out of her skull before she bites back at the person on the other end. She says something into the phone before ending the call abruptly and turning to us. “Davina!”

“Romy!” Nina embraces her cousin. “Com'è stato il viaggio?”

“Perfetto,” is the only word I understand as Romy begins to say something in what I think is Italian. Nina nods, and they giggle. “Oh mio... Sono Elizabeth e Michaela?” Nina confirms. “No Italiano?”

“Minimo.”

Romy shares a tight smile before she turns to me and Elizabeth. When she removes the large shades from her face, I notice she has the same green eyes as Nina, but they are much bigger, rounder — like ovals. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a tight, slicked-back ponytail on top of her head. The poet-sleeved sheer white shirt over a tank top shows off her exceptionally slim hourglass figure. As she approaches, I notice she, unlike Nina, has a full face of makeup — foundation, contour, blush, shadow, lashes, lipstick…

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Her English is perfect with the slightest French accent. “Davina has told me so much about you both.” First, she hugs Elizabeth, who welcomes her with open arms, but when she turns to me, I only offer her a tight-lipped smile. She pulls me into a hug anyway. There is something I don’t like about Romy, but I can’t quite place my finger on it, or maybe I’m being too quick to judge.

“You’ll have to forgive us, as long as we’ve known Nina, we still haven’t quite picked up much Italian,” Elizabeth says.

“Nonsense. I need to practice my English, anyway.”

“Come inside, Elizabeth just made brunch. We have plenty,” Nina ushers Romy towards the house.

“E colazione liquida?”

“Plenty of it.”

I smile stepping into the warm morning sun with a fresh cup of coffee. I’m almost convinced we’re living in the wrong country because I could get used to this. I retreat from the dining terrace down to the lower level terrace — planters filled with different flowers surround a wicker patio set. Each terrace has a little garden with a few samplings of the expansive greenery surrounding our vacation home. Despite the conversation outside my window last night, dinner was completely normal. I overheard Nina and Romy talking about my less-than-welcoming remarks to Romy at the pool earlier in the day. A conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear, but it flowed through my open window. “Mi dispiace per quello che ha detto Michaela,” Nina said and I’d heard that sentence more than once in the years. She was apologizing for what I said.

Romy started to reply in Italian, but said, “I think she’s worried.”

“What is there to be worried about?”

“Davina, how would you feel if some person showed up in Michaela’s life, supposedly her long-lost family member and she flew across the globe to meet them.” Nina didn’t respond. “Esattamente.” Nina returned to Italian. That time, I wasn’t sure what she said. I didn’t have to wait long because Romy asked, “Strange how?”

“We can’t talk here,” Nina said before a long pause. “La finestra.” The window.

I had expected some kind of confrontation at dinner, but it never came. Then again, I knew Nina would wait until the right moment to strike.

I settle on the couch, taking a large sip of coffee, and my mind immediately wanders back to my phone call with David the day before leaving home.

“What do you mean you can’t come?” I hissed. I had called to confirm what time I should pick him up from the airport, but instead, he informed me he wouldn’t be coming home. “We leave tomorrow, David.”

“I can’t get away right now, Mic. There’s too much to do.”

“You’re telling me Jonah can’t handle things for a few days?”

“A few days? Michaela, it’s two weeks! That’s a long time. I can’t just—”

”Yeah, you’re right, your work is important, and Barnes needs you there.”

“Don’t do that,” he sighed. “Don’t be a brat." After a moment of silence, his voice was softer when he spoke again. "Look, I’m sorry that I can’t up and leave like Nina and the rest of ‘em. This isn’t a job where I can decide not to go to work today because I don’t feel like it. I’m sorry I can’t be there to see you off, but I’m needed here in D.C. Maybe when you’re back, you can finally come down here for a change.” That’s always the solution. I have to come to D.C., I have to be the one to come to him, or I won't see him at all. “I think you’d like it here.”

“I think you like it there. I’m not having this conversation right now, David.”

“You never do,” he sighed. “Look, I gotta go. We have a dinner tonight and—”

“Sure, yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up without saying goodbye. That’s how it’s been — constantly bickering, going back and forth, taking little jabs at one another — truthfully, it got worse after we got married last August. Saying “I do” that day in the little chapel, I never imagined our life would end up like this. Sure, he’s always been a little rough around the edges, but that’s what I liked most. I thought we’d get to live happily ever after like we had always talked about, but it seems the only happily ever after on the agenda is his. It wasn’t until he started playing pretend with the big wigs in Washington that I noticed he wasn’t who I thought he was.

I take a deep breath of fresh country air, soaking in the warmth of the Italian sun. Long blonde strands blow in the breeze before I tie them up into a haphazard bun. Sipping my coffee, I think back to when we first met almost four years ago…

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