‘As if.’ Julia pulled a face and subsided onto the sofa with a grateful sigh. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ she said, kicking off her shoes and curling her toes into the rug. Then she added, ‘Your being here is not a problem, Grace. Not to me, anyway. I’ve wanted you to come out here for ages; you know that. Only you’ve always had an excuse before.’
Grace took the armchair opposite her friend, and lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. ‘It hasn’t always been easy—’ she began, and Julia nodded as she pulled herself upright again and reached for the coffee pot.
‘Your mother,’ she agreed. ‘I know. But I’m glad I can be of help now. And it makes a change to have an English person to talk to.’
Grace hesitated and then, conceding to herself that she had been a little offhand about Julia’s boyfriend before, she made an effort to make amends. ‘Um—Matteo—’ she grimaced at her pronunciation ‘—speaks very good English, doesn’t he? Or does he only speak his own language with you?’
Julia waited until she’d handed her friend a cup of coffee and had got comfortable again on the sofa before replying. ‘As a matter of fact, Matt is partly English,’ she explained, propping her feet on the brass-topped table between them. ‘The marchesa I spoke of—she’s English, you see. She married Matt’s grandfather—oh, it must be over sixty years ago now. Of course—’ she pulled a wry face ‘—she’s more Italian than he is. Do you know, she never once addressed me in English while I was staying at the villa? Matt says she hardly ever uses her native language any more.’
Grace frowned. ‘You met his grandmother?’ she asked in surprise. ‘Not his parents?’
‘His parents are dead.’ Julia gazed somewhat consideringly into space before going on. ‘Matt’s father was a keen skier, and he and his wife were killed in an avalanche near Courmayeur when Matt was just a baby.’ She pulled her gaze back to her friend. ‘His grandparents brought him up.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Grace spoke sincerely, and Julia gave her a rueful look. ‘Yes, so am I. Matt’s grandfather is dead now, but the old lady’s quite a tartar. I don’t think her attitudes have altered since the Second World War!’
Grace smiled. ‘Aren’t you being a little unkind? Just because she chooses to speak the language she’s most accustomed to, you’re accusing her of being out of date.’
‘Well, it wasn’t just that.’ Julia spoke defensively. ‘She made me feel as if I wasn’t welcome there.’ She grimaced. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t exactly disappointed when I got that call from the Continental. I think she needs a little more time to get used to the idea that Matt and I are a couple. It’ll be easier next time. I’ll make sure I’ve genned up on wine-growing and Italian history before I go.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘They own a vineyard?’ She shook her head. She’d put Matteo di Falco down as a wealthy playboy and nothing more.
‘They own the valley,’ said Julia repressively. ‘And I don’t think the marchesa really approved of Matt getting involved in a commercial enterprise like making wine. As I said before, she’s an anachronism, Grace. Without Matt’s efforts, they’d have had to sell out years ago.’
Grace absorbed what Julia had said. ‘So—this is Matteo’s vineyard?’
‘Vineyards,’ Julia corrected her firmly. ‘They’ve always grown grapes in the Valle di Falco, of course, but it was his idea to turn it into a real business.’
‘I see.’ Grace was impressed.
‘Anyway, that’s enough about boring things like making money,’ said Julia, looking more cheerful. ‘Let’s talk about what you really thought of Matt. Don’t you think we’ll make a stunning couple?’
‘Stunning,’ echoed Grace obediently, but she couldn’t help wondering if Julia wasn’t being a little premature with her plans. Even if Matteo di Falco worked for his living, he was an aristocrat first and foremost, and Grace hoped her friend wouldn’t be too disappointed if their relationship didn’t work out.
‘You’re very cagey,’ said Julia now, sensing that Grace wasn’t being entirely honest, and Grace decided quickly that it was really nothing to do with her.
‘Not at all,’ she protested, reaching for her coffee to avoid Julia’s knowing stare. ‘Um—how long have you known him? How did you meet?’
Julia still looked doubtful, but she accepted the evasion, much to Grace’s relief. ‘We met at a reception in Florence,’ she replied. ‘One of the guests who was staying at the hotel had tickets for a special evening exhibition of Renaissance art. Of course, we’re not supposed to fraternise with the guests, but he wasn’t able to attend the reception, so he offered his tickets to me.’ She shook her head. ‘Not that I’m mad about art or anything like that, but there was going to be wine and canapés, stuff like that, and Maria and I—Maria’s another of the receptionists at the hotel, like me—we thought it might be worth a look.’
‘And it was,’ commented Grace drily, and Julia gave a rueful grin.
‘Wasn’t it just?’ she agreed eagerly. ‘I saw Matt the minute I walked in.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘It turned out that it was his cousin who owned the gallery, and he’d only agreed to come along to show some support.’
Grace nodded. ‘So how did you wangle an introduction?’
‘I didn’t.’ Julia looked smug. ‘I introduced myself. I had the ideal opportunity, you see. Signor Massina—he was the guest who gave me the tickets—asked me to offer Carlo—that’s the name of Matt’s cousin—his apologies, and I made sure that when I spoke to him Matt was there.’
‘Ah.’ Grace remembered from their college days how manipulative Julia could be when she chose. ‘And I suppose he was bowled over by your charm and beauty,’ she remarked teasingly. ‘How long did it take you to get him to ask you out?’
‘Oh, a long time.’ Julia dimpled. ‘It must have been twenty-four hours, at least. It might have been sooner if we hadn’t been staying the night with Maria’s sister. As it was, he took my phone number and called the next day.’
Grace arched a silvery brow. ‘He must have been keen.’
‘He was.’ Julia was complacent. ‘We’ve been going out together ever since.’ She put down her coffee and stretched luxuriously. ‘It’s our anniversary next week.’
Grace was surprised. ‘You’ve been going out together for a year?’
‘Six months,’ protested Julia impatiently. ‘You don’t think I’d be so happy if we’d been going out together for a year without any commitment, do you?’
Grace shrugged. ‘People do do it. Marriage isn’t always the first thing on a person’s mind these days.’
‘It is if your name’s di Falco,’ declared Julia grimly, suddenly losing her ready smile. ‘You don’t think that old harridan of a grandmother would agree to her beloved Matteo setting up house with his girlfriend, do you? Believe me, Grace, it wouldn’t happen. She doesn’t want any of her great-grandchildren to have someone else’s name.’
‘Well, I suppose she has a point.’ Grace tried to be objective. ‘But I do know couples who’ve lived together and when the children have come along the father has arranged for them to legally take his name—’
‘I’m telling you, it wouldn’t happen,’ insisted Julia doggedly. ‘Honestly, Grace, you don’t understand the situation here. Well, the situation with the di Falcos, anyway. Apart from any other objections she might have, the old lady is a staunch Roman Catholic. There’s just no way she’d countenance her great-granddaughter’s father living—“in