“You sure you don’t want me to stay, capo?” Paolo asked.

“No, no,” Gianpierre answered, though he cast a worried eye toward the darkening sky. A heavy storm was rolling in from the ocean. “Your niece is having her birthday party tonight, yes? You go. I’ve got this.” There was only a little bit of work to do, and then Gianpierre would be able to call it a night as well.

Paolo clapped Gianpierre on the shoulder. “Se, Capo. Grazij.” Then, with a wave over his shoulder, he jogged out of the large courtyard. He didn’t make it all the way out before having to stop and talk to a matronly woman on her way in, though.

Gianpierre squinted in an effort to discern who the woman was as Paolo pointed a long arm in his direction, but her features were lost to him in the failing light. He watched as Paolo turned and left, rushing to beat the coming rain. In contrast, the woman Paolo had spoken to marched toward Gianpierre without any concern at all for the brewing storm. As she neared, Gianpierre finally recognized her.

“Bona sira, Signora Rizzo,” Gianpierre greeted her, wishing her a good evening. He didn’t ask her what her business was, trusting that she would get to it when she was ready. It had been three days since the unexpected showing of his apartment and he hadn’t heard anything else. He didn’t have a moving date, and he hadn’t even started packing. As for him and Luciana, she’d only been back to work one day, but it had been a very long day while they’d both avoided talking of the incident.

“Bona sira,” Signora Rizzo said, brushing her short wind-whipped hair behind her ear. “Is this an okay time to talk, Signore Romano?”

Gianpierre glanced at the sky, but if she was willing to talk to him in the growing nearly gale force winds, then he was willing to listen. Shrugging, he said, “Se, Signora. Should we go inside out of the weather?”

Signora Rizzo leaned so that she could see around Gianpierre and peered at the taped off hole behind him. To the side sat a tarp. Even though it was anchored under heavy stones, its unweighted edges flapped wildly in the wind. Without the tarp, the catacombs below would be in danger of becoming flooded by the coming rain. “I’m interrupting your work. Let me help you as we talk.”

Gianpierre took a breath in preparation to refuse her generous offer, but held his tongue when Signora Rizzo moved past him. Without waiting for a response, she put her large purse on the ground and set to work moving the large stones off the tarp so that the tarp could be moved. The fact that she was wearing high heels, a tweed skirt and snug dress jacket didn’t deter her at all.

Gianpierre jumped in to assist, and soon they were fighting with the airborne tarp as they maneuvered it over the hole. Signora Rizzo did an admirable job of holding it in place as Gianpierre made fast work of putting the anchoring stones back around its edges. Once that was done, he finished the job by sliding an angled rod beneath the tarp. The point of the rod tented the tarp upward so that the water would cascade off rather than making a pool of water that would eventually dump the tarp and all its contents inside the belly of the catacombs beneath.

Fat raindrops began to fall just as Gianpierre was finishing wedging the tenting rod between two rocks. Getting to his feet, he grabbed Signora Rizzo’s purse and hurried them both to stand under the covered walkway that surrounded the entire courtyard. Signora Rizzo’s gaze scanned the sixteen foot high stone archways, and her eyes crinkled at their corners as a smile pulled at her lips.

“I always loved old places like this,” she said, reaching out a hand to trace the face of the nearest stone pillar. “I am so happy that you and your brothers are restoring the Romano del Mare rather than letting her crumble.”

Gianpierre studied Signora Rizzo’s rapturous expression. It means so much to her. He had taken the Romano del Mare for granted. It had always been a part of his life, tucked away in the background. Over the years, it had become more of an afterthought than anything of importance, but, he realized, for the people who called Sicily their home, the Romano del Mare mattered. A lot. Seeing Signora Rizzo’s adoring gaze as she felt the ancient stones that made up the medieval one-time monastery was a humbling reminder to him that the brother’s decisions impacted lives far, far beyond just their own, and the work that they did to restore the Romano del Mare was a service to the entire region.

“Seeing how you look at her, I am happy as well,” he said.

Signora Rizzo turned her smile on Gianpierre, but then her eyes dimmed and her body stiffened as she transitioned into business mode. “Signore Romano, I understand now that with your many months of travel that you did not receive notice that the building’s new owners were moving to an owners model rather than a rental model. I am here to formally ask you if you would like to purchase the home that you have been renting. As you know, you have poured a lot of equity into the home with the various updates and the installation of a pool on the roof. It is equity that will be completely lost if you do not purchase the home for yourself. Even if you decide to later sell it, you will at least regain the value that you have already put into it.”

“I don’t understand. Luciana—the woman you brought to view the property—has committed to purchase it.”

Signora Rizzo flattened her lips and shook her head in a slow, sad no. “The bank refused her loan. I had to tell her today. She’s not approved for the purchase.”

“They refused? Why?”

Signora Rizzo shrugged and bobbed her head from side to side as if contemplating how much she should say. Giving in, she answered, “I called the bank to see if I could smooth things over, but they said that she’s lived here for too short a time and that she’s only been employed for two weeks. On top of that, the bank understands that her employment only continues for as long as your work continues. They consider her too much of a risk. In addition to that, buying your place was going to be a financial stretch for her anyway.” Signora Rizzo squared her shoulders. “So, Signora Romano, would you like to buy the apartment? It has been your home for over ten years, after all.”

“No, no… It has been my home base, not my home. It is simply the place that I come back to. It is not the place I live. I live wherever the work takes me, and the work seldom takes me here. I am due in Dubai right now.”

“And yet, you’ve continued to hold on to this apartment for ten years…”

“But it was always temporary. It’s a rental, nothing more,” Gianpierre said, throwing down his hands in emphasis. “I have too many opportunities pulling me away to other countries. I cannot be tied down to Sicily right now. It’s not time yet.”

“Se, Signore. Se,” Signora Rizzo said in acceptance of his words.

Gianpierre’s voice and stance softened. “What will become of Luciana and the little girl? Did Luciana get approved for enough to find another place she will like?”

Signora Rizzo pursed her lips and shook her head. Tsking, she said, “No, Signore. The bank would not approve her for any loan. She is too new, and her work history here is too short.” She shook her head some more. “It is so sad. The little girl has terrible nightmares, and Luciana sometimes finds her searching the house in the middle of the night. When she asks the little girl what she is looking for, the little girl tells her she saw her Matri in her dreams and she’s looking for her. It’s why Luciana wants to find them a new home. She’s hoping it will help the little girl recover from watching her mother die.”

“She saw her Matri die?” Gianpierre’s mind reeled. He imagined himself experiencing something so tragic when he had been her age, but it was unfathomable.

“Se, se. Little Natalia was in the car with her when they were hit by a huge truck. It twisted the car and then…” She tsked some more as she stared out into the heavy rain.

“How long was she in the car with her after her Matri died?” He didn’t want to know the answer, but his mind demanded the terrible truth.

Signora Rizzo lifted her haunted eyes to meet his. “An hour, maybe. She was trapped. They had to cut the car open. It took time for the equipment to reach them.”

Gianpierre put his face in his hand and leaned back against the pillar. His problems were becoming smaller and smaller in comparison to the rest of the world’s, but this was one problem that he could do something about.

Dropping his hand, he said, “And you have already told Luciana that she has been denied a loan by the bank?”

“Se, Signore.”

“Call on her tonight and tell her that you’ve gotten word from the bank that there was a mistake and that they will be approving her loan. Tell her it is enough to cover the purchase of my home—my apartment,” he corrected, unwilling to refer to a place where he lived at most two months a year as his home.

“Signore?”

“I will call the bank tomorrow and will tell them that I will back the loan, but Luciana is not to know that.”

Signora Rizzo smiled brightly and gave Gianpierre an approving pat on the arm. “Se, Signore!”