Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (20 page)

Martin and Maria had aged, of course. Martin was still tall
and slim, now with gray-and-white hair instead of the dark hair Angelo
remembered. Maria had gained some weight, but was as lovely as ever. Angelo’s
eyes teared up and he blinked as Martin walked toward him.

“Angelo,” Martin said, his voice
breaking.

The two brothers embraced for a
long time. When they let go of each other, tears were coursing down their
cheeks. They both pulled out handkerchiefs and wiped their faces, then gave
embarrassed grins, and hugged again.

Angelo then turned to Maria and
they hugged as well. “I’m so glad you’re back,” Maria said, her voice trembling
slightly. Angelo inhaled her light lavender scent and it triggered a memory
from a long time ago. Maria and Elvira had used the same body lotion. He sighed
deeply at the memory of his wife. Her death had been another reason why he’d
had to leave his ruined life behind.

Angelo looked at a young man and
woman standing next to Maria, trying to remember who they were. He was short
and sturdy with the same black eyes he himself had. Was it Nicholas’s younger
brother? “Matthew?” he asked.

The young man smiled. “Hello,
Uncle Angelo. Yes, it’s me. And you remember Nadia?” He put his arm around the
young woman next to him. She was a little taller than Matthew, with wavy brown
hair and green eyes.

“My God,” Angelo said, trying to
match the young woman with the little girl he barely remembered, the younger
sister. “You were … like … how old are you now?”

“Twenty-two,” Nadia said. She
hugged him. “I have to admit I don’t remember you.”

“Of course not. You were only two
when I left.” Angelo shook his head. “It’s only now I fully realize how long
I’ve been away.”

“Too long,
piccolo
,” Martin
said, using a term he used to call his brother as a child.

“Well, let’s all go home and
celebrate. I’m so glad they found the real culprits and you don’t have to be
afraid anymore.” Maria took Angelo by the arm and they all walked to the cars.

“We had to come in two cars, since
everybody wanted to be here,” Martin said. “Well, almost everybody. Robert is
away for a week on some wine publicity stunt, so he couldn’t make it. Janice accompanied
him.”

“I heard he’s quite the
entrepreneur,” Angelo said.

“Tell me about it,” Martin said.
“I don’t know how he does it, but he’s good at it.”

At home, everybody gathered in Martin and Maria’s house for
a light dinner and to get acquainted again with Angelo.

He tried to come to terms with his
thoughts and feelings. His mind was a beehive. Relief about the outcome of the
investigation into Fred’s murder, the death of Anton, the man who was one of
the major reasons Angelo disappeared, took turns with feelings of confusion. He
felt he was having an identity crisis. Here he was in a country and at a place
he hadn’t seen in twenty years, an environment that had changed tremendously.
He’d had a glimpse of the proliferation of vineyards during the drive from the
airport. Twenty years before, there had only been a few from what he
remembered. This was his home, or was it? Italy had become his home over the
past twenty years, but only to a certain extent.

In Italy, he was Danilo Pedrotti,
an impostor. His fake identity was only known to Abbot Francesco and now to
Miriam. How would the people react if he finally told them his real name? Would
he feel at home as Angelo Segantino in Rivalta? He believed his friends would
understand once they heard why he had assumed a false identity. He had talked
to Larry again who had told him that Fabio and his buddy in crime had been
arrested, that no charges had been filed against the person who had shot Fabio
in the leg. And best of all, Larry had gotten his old job back. Angelo smiled
at the thought about the happy conversation he’d had with his friend.

“More ice cream, Angelo?” someone
asked. It was Maria and she gave him an amused smile. “You’re somewhere else
with your thoughts, aren’t you?”

Angelo took a deep breath. “Sorry,
Maria, yes, I was thinking about … well, everything I guess. No more ice cream
for me, thank you. Dinner was excellent.”

“You’re going to stay with us if
that’s okay,” Martin said. “We have a nice guest room with a private bathroom.”

“Thank you. This is a lot fancier
than what I’m used to. My home in Italy is a cabin, more or less.”

“But it’s very beautiful,” Sofia
said. “A cozy cottage next to a lovely stone pine forest, a pond nearby, and it
has a great view of the valley and the mountains.”

Angelo nodded. “Miriam is taking
care of it, while I’m gone,” he said.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“You have to tell us a lot more
about this mysterious Miriam,” Nicholas said. “From what I heard, she was
Sofia’s partner in crime.” He winked at Sofia.

“We became good friends,” Sofia
said. “I hope to see her again soon.”

“Well, Angelo, you have to tell us
all about it,” Maria said. “But I can see you’re fading. It’s okay if you want
to go to bed. I’ll check to make sure there are towels and everything is ready.”

“Thanks, Maria, yes, I’m getting
sleepy. It’s been a long day. I didn’t get much sleep on the plane. I was too
nervous. And, I can tell you, spending the night in this beautiful home is a
lot better than in a jail cell.”

“Thank, God, it didn’t come to that,”
Martin said. He got up and patted Angelo on the back. “Glad you’re back, little
brother.”

The next few days, Angelo tried to familiarize himself with
the home he had left, an environment that had changed so much. As he walked
across the fields and looked at the vineyards of the Segantino family, memories
cropped up of events and people from a long time ago. Sometimes he went alone
on walks of discovery, often Martin and once in a while Nicholas and Sofia
accompanied him.

Martin and Maria’s home became a
meeting place for the Segantino family. Robert and Janice, Nicholas’s parents,
returned from their trip. Robert was all enthusiastic about Angelo’s return and
implored him to stay. He offered him a job as administrator of his estate.
Angelo was grateful for his nephew’s attempt to help and promised to think
about it. Truth was that he was confused and thrown off kilter by all the
changes in the past few weeks.

“I have to get my bearings first,”
he kept saying. “I feel I’ve returned from another planet, in a way.”
Fortunately, they all understood and let him get used to everything.

One of the first things Angelo did was visit Elvira’s grave
in the town cemetery. He was surprised how well kept it was. Two potted plants
and a vase with fresh spring flowers brightened the plot. The tombstone was
clean and polished. Maria had told him that she had kept an eye on it during
his absence. Angelo was moved by how well cared for and tidy it was.

He put a bouquet of flowers
down—carnations, chrysanthemums, and yellow freesia, Elvira’s favorites. He
brushed his hand gently over the etching on the stone. Elvira Cynthia
Segantino, March 3, 1950 to July 20, 1992.

“I’m sorry, Elvira,” he whispered.
“So sorry.” A sob escaped him. To his relief, he was alone in the cemetery and
could let his emotions take their course.

A few moments later, Angelo walked
around the cemetery, looking for Fred’s grave. As Martin had told him, Frank
had been allowed to bury what was left of his brother after the investigation
was over. Angelo found a newly planted plot with Fred’s name on it. He stood in
front of the grave for a while, then put down a small potted plant.

“Hey, buddy, I know you probably
would’ve preferred a cold beer.” Angelo exhaled deeply. “I’m so sorry, Fred.
You should be here with me. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace. But
it’s just not right.”

He heard the sound of heavy
footsteps behind him and turned around. He barely recognized the overweight man
with the curly gray hair and the red face. “Frank?”

Frank nodded. “Hi, Angelo.”

There was an awkward moment. Frank
cleared his throat. “I apologize for thinking you killed Fred.”

Angelo shook his head. “You don’t
have to apologize. If I’d been you, I would’ve thought the same. I wasn’t
exactly a model citizen.”

“No, that’s right, but neither was
Fred,” Frank said. “And least of all, Anton.”

They stood silently for a while,
looking at Fred’s grave.

“You know, one of the things I
don’t understand,” Angelo said. “How was it possible for Anton or his hired
hand to bury Fred’s body on your property without anybody hearing or seeing
anything?”

Frank shrugged. “I’ve asked myself
the same, but I can see now how it happened.” He motioned with his head to a
bench at the edge of the cemetery. “Let’s sit down for a while.”

They walked over and sat on a
stone bench under one of the oak trees. Frank removed his baseball cap and
wiped his forehead. He exuded a light smell of sweat.
He looks like a
candidate for a heart attack
.

“At the time when you and Fred
disappeared, it was only myself and our uncle, Sam Leonardi, working the farm.
Fred was off doing his own thing and Anton wasn’t around much anymore.” Frank
put his hat back on.

“Uncle Sam was hard of hearing and
my bedroom was to the back of the house. So, really, anybody who knew the
property could’ve come at night and buried the body. The field he was buried in
was at the edge of our farm, well, next to your family’s land. It wasn’t used.
It was overgrown and nobody came by much.”

Angelo nodded. It made sense.

“I remember Fred coming home from
one of his jobs, delivering stuff for Anton,” Frank continued. “He was all
upset. He didn’t say what happened, but he got into a huge argument with our
uncle. Fred said he was leaving, he’d had enough of Sam bullying him.

“I have to admit,” Frank went on.
“Sam Leonardi was a tough and sometimes cruel father and uncle. He took the
belt to us many times when we were kids. But he was fair. And he provided for
Fred and me. As you probably remember, our parents died when we were still little
and Sam took us in and treated us like his sons.” Frank pulled out a pack of
cigarettes from his pocket and offered Angelo one. Angelo declined.

“Anyway, the following day, Fred
was gone. He had taken a bag with some clothes, but not much. We assumed he was
just pissed off and went to stay with one of his friends, you or even Anton.
He’d done it before when he got into a fight with our uncle.” Frank lit his
cigarette. He squeezed his eyes shut and blew the smoke through his nose.

“We weren’t too concerned, but
when Fred didn’t come back and we didn’t hear from him, Sam went over to talk
to your brother. Martin told us that you had disappeared as well and they had
no idea where you were. I think both families were pretty much convinced that
you were both involved in some criminal activities and kind of washed their
hands of you.”

Angelo gave a grunt. “I don’t
blame them.”

“Well, yes. On top of it, Anton
wasn’t around anywhere either. The next we heard from him was that he’d moved
to Chicago. We thought that perhaps you and Fred were there as well.”

Angelo shook his head. “You never
tried to find him after that?”

“We did, at least I did. Sam said
he didn’t care, he didn’t want anything to do with his loser son and nephew
anymore. I went to Chicago, tried to track down Anton but didn’t find him. I
went to the police, filed a missing person’s report. But nothing came of it.
So, I finally gave up. I have to admit, I didn’t get along with Fred much. See,
I was resentful. I did all the work at the farm, when our uncle got older. I
had to watch how Fred did nothing to help me, but came home with money from
what I thought were his illegal dealings. Just like you.”

Angelo lowered his head. “Yes, I’m
not proud of that part of my life, believe me.”

“Well, at least you turned your
life around. Fred didn’t have a chance to do it.” Frank sounded bitter.

“I’m sorry, Frank, I wish it had
turned out differently.” Angelo gazed at the oak trees in the field next to the
cemetery. “I still don’t understand why Anton had the body buried on the family
property. Wasn’t he afraid, someone was going to use the field, dig it up to
plant something?”

Frank sneered. “Well, for one
thing, Anton expected to inherit the family property after his father’s death.
He figured his dirty secret was safe. See, that piece of property isn’t worth
much for the kind of farming we did. It was too rocky, too much gravel and
flint. But of course, it’s perfect for grapes and wine. That’s why your
great-nephew and his wife bought it.”

“Makes sense,” Angelo said. “But
once he knew that you inherited it, wasn’t he afraid you might dig it up or
sell it?”

“Sure, after he found out that I
inherited the land, he was furious,” Frank said. “I felt kind of bad for him. I
told him I wouldn’t mind sharing if he decided to move back and help me work
the property. I knew he wouldn’t go for it. He told me he had no time or
interest in farming. The only thing he asked me was that if I ever wanted to
sell it or part of it, to let him know. He wanted to have first buying rights.”

Frank removed his cap and scratched
his head. “I kind of wondered why he would want to buy land from a farm he had
no interest in. I thought it was just for the money, that he would sell it
again. Now, I know why he wanted to prevent me from selling the field Fred was
buried in.”

“But you did sell the field to
Nicholas and Sofia. I assume Anton didn’t know about it?”

“No, not right away. Only after
Fred’s bones were found. I hadn’t heard from Anton in … oh … over ten years. I
didn’t even think he’d be interested anymore. I actually tried to call him
before I finalized the sale, but couldn’t get a hold of him. So I told myself,
to heck with it. After my wife died and the boys moved away, the farm was
getting too big for me anyway. So I sold the field. It’s perfect for grapes,
but not for much else.”

“Sofia and Nicholas certainly
appreciate it. They’re eager to plant, now that everything has been settled.
I’m sure they’ll let you have some of their wine,” Angelo said.

“Well, I’m not much into wine. I
prefer a good bottle of beer,” Frank said.

“Just like Fred, as I remember,”
Angelo said.

“Yeah.” Frank sighed.

Angelo put his hand on Frank’s
back. “Frank, I’m sorry about what happened to Fred. We did some dumb things
together. But he was a good friend, and I miss him.”

“Thanks.” Frank nodded.

“I’m glad you and the Segantinos
are talking to each other again. I know Martin really regretted the bad blood
between the families,” Angelo said.

“Yeah. I’m glad, too,” Frank said.
“I mean, neighbors have to get along.”

It was quiet again. Angelo patted
Frank’s shoulder, then got up. Frank groaned a little as he raised himself and
wiped his forehead again. “What are you going to do? Stay here or go back to
Italy?”

Angelo shrugged. “I need to go
back. I have a lot of unresolved business there. Right now, I don’t know where
I’m going to live in the future. Time will tell.”

“Well, good to see you again.” Frank
waved goodbye and left.

Angelo watched him slowly making
his way through the cemetery. He felt sorry for Frank. He seemed lonely.