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- Herausgeber: Youcanprint
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
This is the story of a friendship between two women, Eleonora e Francesca, who are completely dissimilar and separated by forty years, but who are united by strong family ties. This is the story of one month, at the end of which neither of the two will ever be the same again.
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Table of contents
An unexpected visit
Villa Thalia
Coffee and biscuits
Forte dei Marmi
Sacrifices
On one condition
Motorboats and peonies
Rien de rien
Running away
Jean-Cristophe
The Solstice Celebration
Audrey Hepburn
The timer
Fireworks
The end of everything
A revelation
The back float
The things of life
Iceberg
A small trip
Nice to meet you
Noise
Bands and funerals
Thinking
The 4th of July
Adelina
No phone call
An ugly argument
About egos and other topics
A black Balilla
Who knows
A nice outing
Wind
Family affairs
Change
The barbecue king
Filled chocolates
Our plans
Alison
Comedy
The light of dawn
Flying machines
Five words
Lemon marmalade
The Ruspini sisters
A gilded prison
Click
Yolanda
Richard's move
A difficult night
Good morning
In a week
Blond
The outburst
The water lily pond
A comic duo
Fears
The right to know
A carefree evening
One more Martini
What do we talk about?
One last story
The next summer
Valeria Valcavi Ossoinack
Eleonora
Title:
ELEONORA - One Summer Month
© 2021, Valeria Valcavi Ossoinack
All rights reserved
ISBN 97912203748351
Original title: “Donna Eleonora”
“It is the encounters with people that make life worth living.”
An unexpected visit
“Are you Signora Berardi?”
“Eleonora Berardi.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“You are...”
“Francesca… Francesca Dantoni.”
“You don't say... Carlo's daughter?”
“No, Gabriele's; his brother.”
“Of course, naturally. I meant to say Gabriele... Forgive me, at my age I get names mixed up. I get lots of things mixed up but names in particular.”
“Not to worry.”
“I get memories mixed up, too. I won't even go into that, they're all mixed up... So, you are Gabriele's daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What a surprise!”
“Maybe I should have let you know ahead of time...”
“I remember you...”
“Really?”
“Yes, you were still small, you must have been four or five years old... All of you had come to Italy... How long ago was it? Let me think... I believe it was about thirty years ago... How old are you now?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“There you go, more or less... You were a lively child.”
“Like all children that age...”
“All your parents did was run after you.”
“I calmed down later.”
“And I remember that your hair was blond and curly.”
“You're right, it was.”
“You aren't blond anymore.”
“I dyed my hair.”
“Too bad, it suited you... You ought to reconsider.”
“I’ll think about it, thank you.”
“And how is your father?”
“He's dead.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't know.”
“Two months ago yesterday.”
“Poor Gabriele...”
“Do you feel all right, ma'am?”
“Just give me a moment...”
“Yes, of course.”
“That's bad news. We were very close.”
“He talked to me about you.”
“We never know anything around here. We watch television. But I imagine they didn't give the news on TV.”
“No, I don't think so.”
“Forgive me, that was nonsense, I say so many silly... Besides, right now I don't even know what I'm saying... I'm shocked.”
“Don't worry.”
“Did he suffer?”
“He had a stroke, in his sleep. No, he didn't suffer.”
“That's the best way.”
“Yes.”
“If I could choose, even tomorrow.”
“Why do you say that?”
“What do you expect, my dear, locked up in here...”
“Don't they treat you well?”
“As far as that is concerned, five-star treatment, of course... Not to mention five-star room and board, to be quite truthful. But money is the one thing I'm not lacking. Francesca, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I'm just making sure that I'm not completely befuddled.”
“You don't seem to be.”
“You're kind. And you're lovely. But you were back then, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Your father was always handsome, too.”
“Yes, he was a handsome man. I've seen photos of him when he was young.”
“And he knew it, oh did he know it. All the girls swooned over him. Some of my friends became my friends only because they wanted to be around him. Fine friends! He'd arrive on his motorcycle, hair flowing in the wind, and it was game over. He was young, wealthy, and cheeky. And he loved to play the dandy. And then...”
“And then?”
“He went to America and met your mother. She made him toe the line. He needed that. And she stole his heart. By the way, how is your mother?”
“She's dead, too. Cancer. Five years ago.”
“Good gracious, my dear... Cancer is an ugly beast. I wouldn't like to have that. And who would?”
“Nobody.”
“You're right, nobody. I wasn't expecting a visit this morning. Around here, you wake up, you have breakfast, you take your pills, you go for a walk when the weather is nice, you have a chat, and the only thing you're expecting is that evening will arrive... On Friday there's a Buraco tournament, on Sunday there's music, a small orchestra comes here to make us dance, those of us who are still able to and feel like it. Let's say that it isn't a very eventful life. Nothing ever happens on Tuesday... And instead, today, who would ever have imagined it, they told me there was a person here for me. I had no idea who it could be. I thought maybe it was my financial adviser, even if Tuesday isn't his usual day. Plus, all he knows how to do is annoy me. And instead, here you are. The daughter of Gabriele and... Karen?”
“Susan.”
“Susan, of course. Forgive me, like I said, names...”
“It doesn't matter; it's been a long time.”
“A lifetime. Are you married?”
“Eleven years now.”
“What's his name?”
“Richard.”
“Are you happy?”
“We have two children.”
“It's an answer.”
“To what?”
“Oh, nothing, pay no mind. Sometimes I speak before I think. It's a privilege we old folks have.”
“Anyway, yes, I'm happy.”
“And I'm happy for you, I don't know why I asked you. It's none of my business.”
“It was nice of you to ask me.”
“No, it wasn't. I'm not a nice person. You're nice, I'm not.”
“That's not true.”
“How can you say that? You don't know me.”
“No, I don't know you.”
“So then, why are you here, Francesca?”
“To meet you.”
It was an afternoon in June 1989.
Sitting across from Eleonora in the tea room at Villa Thalia, sunk in a Chesterfield chair that had aged well – as had many of the people there – was Francesca, the daughter of her cousin Gabriele, who had just arrived from the United States.
It was a completely unexpected visit.
Especially for her because she had stopped expecting anything.
Villa Thalia
Villa Thalia was an old, 19th-century summer house that once belonged to a Milanese nobleman, who built it on the shores of Lake Como. Toward the end of the 1960s, it was transformed into a retreat for rich elderly people. It had a very large park that could be called luxuriant during the spring and summer, thanks to the number of plants and flowers that made it look like a tropical garden. There was a maze of perfectly groomed paths that were lined with benches made of walnut and wrought iron, and there were always gardeners at work. The summer swelter almost never managed to penetrate the cool shadows made by the leafy branches of the trees. The residents spent hours sitting on the benches or strolling around, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by guests or by the personnel, who were always caring and attentive.
Overlooking the lake was a splendid terrace where small receptions were organized and concerts of classical music and jazz – the good jazz of days gone by - were held. Every so often, opera singers performed there, accompanied on the piano - a white Steinway grand piano - by Maestro Gregotti, a long-standing resident of the villa who, it was said, had a illustrious past in the top concert halls of Europe.
It wasn't a retirement home, or at least it didn't intend to seem like one. There were nurses, doctors, and the best medical care, no doubt, as well as lots of equipment that was on the cutting edge in the scientific field. But everything was so discreet that anybody who crossed the threshold and entered the imposing foyer with its high, frescoed ceilings and dappled marble columns, found themselves immersed in the atmosphere of an international, early 20th-century hotel that was every bit as good as the Plaza, or the Ritz, or the Danieli in Venice.
Villa Thalia was an entrance ticket to Paradise. Because Paradise can be bought. It isn't true that you have to earn it through a life of sacrifice and good deeds. That story was invented by the Church to make the poor behave. It was a ticket that very few people could afford.
One of them was Eleonora Federica Berardi Marliani.
For those who could boast a certain familiarity with her, and not many could, she was simply Eleonora.
Coffee and biscuits
“Would you like a coffee, my dear?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“I shouldn't drink coffee but by now there are too many things I shouldn't do and too little time left to do them.”
“You only live once.”
“Truer words were never spoken but do you know what? Sometimes I think that even just one life is too much.”
“Don't say that.”
“Wait, let's call someone over. Giorgio, excuse me...”
“Good morning, Signora Berardi.”
“Would you please bring us two coffees and some cold milk. Anything else, my dear? For instance, a biscuit or two? Yes, bring us some biscuits.”
“Right away.”
“So, Francesca, where were we?”
“You were wondering why I came.”
“You said you came to meet me.”
“Yes.”
“This is clear but why did you decide to do it?”
“I don't know where to begin, Signora Berardi.”
“Eleonora, call me Eleonora. Don't call me Signora Berardi, I’m tired of being fawned over. Plus, in your language, the formal pronoun ‘Lei’ that we use doesn't even exist, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Speaking of languages, you speak Italian well. Of course, we can tell you aren't Italian but congratulations.”
“Thank you. It meant a lot to my Dad... He taught my mother Italian, as well. We often spoke it at home, especially during meals.”
“Italian is a beautiful language. And after all, it can always come in handy. If nowhere else, in Italy... Where do you live?”
“In Maryland.”
“Is it a nice place?”
“It's a place.”
“But didn't your parents live near Boston?”
“In Somerville.”
“Why did you leave?”
“My husband...”
“There's a phrase I have never had to pronounce.”
“You never married?”
“Never felt the need to.”
“You don't mind, Signora Berardi?”
“You don't mind, Eleonora. Please, call me by my first name.”
“Yes, excuse me, Signora... I mean, excuse me, Eleonora.”
“You were telling me about Maryland.”
“We live near Baltimore. It isn't all that far from Somerville: an hour and a half by plane. We'd go visit them once a month. Sometimes they'd come visit us. When my mother died, Dad didn't want to come by himself anymore. So I tried to go, whenever I could; sometimes I'd spend the weekend there. Sometimes I took the children along. He'd only come visit us at Christmas but I had to go fetch him. During those last years, Dad wasn't the same anymore.”
“I can imagine, my dear. Susan must have been everything to him.”
“They were still very much in love, you could tell by the way they looked at each other. How is that possible after more than forty years?”
“You're asking the wrong person.”
“Were you ever in love?”
“Oh yes, so many times that I have lost count. But just as many times, first I was in love and then I wasn’t anymore. They say that all good things come to an end. Mine always ended too soon. And often badly.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. I lived the life I wanted to live.”
“Coffee and biscuits for these two lovely ladies.”
“Actually, I only see one lovely lady here.”
“Allow me to contradict you.”
“I'll allow you, but only this once.”
“Very kind of you, Signora Berardi.”
“Sugar, my dear?”
“One spoonful, thank you.”
“I'll take two... but don't tell anyone.”
“It will be our secret.”
“I like you, Francesca, you strike me as a woman with a sense of humor. You got it from your father.”
“Sometimes a sense of humor helps.”
“Sometimes it's the only weapon that remains to us.”
It had rained that morning; it was still cloudy and the air was too muggy to enjoy a stroll in the park.
Sitting in front of those cups of coffee were two women who were divided by forty years of life and an ocean in the middle but who were united by a feeling that was still unknown to them.
Forte dei Marmi
“I cared deeply for your father. He was almost like a brother to me. I remember that I cried for days on end when he left for America. He was five years older than me, we had different groups of friends but he was always there when I needed him: for advice, for help, or to console me when someone broke my heart. That happened back then. Then, over time, I learned that no man deserves your desperation. Not that I didn't repeat the mistake but each time I came out of it more disenchanted. In the end, we always have to fend for ourselves and leave it all behind.”
“You're right, we have to fend for ourselves.”
“Easy to say but I wasn't always successful... I remember one time, I must have been eighteen, nineteen years old, we spent an entire day talking. It was summer, we were at the seaside. I liked a certain boy a lot and he liked me. After a few weeks and I don't know how many attempts on his part, we kissed: back then, it was almost a pledge. One morning, I went out for a walk and I discovered him making the same pledge to a friend of mine who was much less shy than I was. They were wrapped around each other behind a fishing shack. I made a scene and then ran away in tears. God, I was so melodramatic back then, but at that age we all are, right?”
“Who knows how you must have felt.”
“Your father came upon me near home, in that condition. He stopped his motorcycle and told me to get on. I didn't want to but he kept insisting until I lifted my skirt – a decidedly inelegant gesture for a well-bred young lady – and climbed on. He took me to the beach and told me everything that passed through his mind. Your father was a good talker.”
“Yes, he really was.”
“He managed to distract me and he made me forget about that good-for-nothing. He dried my every tear with his stories, it didn't matter to me whether they were true or not. He bought me an ice cream, as though I were a little girl. In the end, we couldn't stop laughing. It was almost dark when he accompanied me back home. It was lovely driving around on the motorcycle with him: the wind blew away every bad thought. My mother was worried but Gabriele, who was her favorite nephew, calmed her down and told her it was all his fault. He was forgiven. Your father was always forgiven.”
“What year was that?”
“Around 1930. We were at Forte dei Marmi - it's a famous seaside resort in Tuscany.”
“I know.”
“Really?”
“Yes, my father told me about it.”
“Well, that's where we spent our holidays. Obviously, only we privileged few, the lucky ones. The rest of Italy didn't even know what a holiday resort was.”
“I like to listen to you talk about him.”
“It's been a long time since I have. And for sure, I never thought that one day I'd do so with his daughter. You must forgive me, Francesca, if I jabbered on a bit, before. I even asked you if they gave the news on TV, such nonsense. It's just that I didn't expect it... Maybe it was only a reaction to defend myself from the pain I felt.”
“Don't worry. I turned up here so suddenly, I realize it.”
“You did well, I was so bored... Do you have even a vague idea of what it means to spend all day, every day, with old people?”
“No, I don't.”
“Better that way. What time is it now?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Well then, we must say goodbye. Unfortunately, visiting time is over. Dinner will be served in an hour. We eat as though we were in a hospital. But basically, behind all this stucco work, the gilding, and this French Riviera atmosphere, what is a place like this, if not a hospital for rich people?”
“It doesn't strike me that way.”
“If you lived here, you'd change your mind.”
“Perhaps.”
“Will you come back, Francesca?”
“Yes. Even tomorrow, if you'd like.”
“No, tomorrow isn't possible. My financial adviser is coming. He usually comes on Thursday but he asked if he could come sooner because of personal problems. I assure you that I would gladly do without seeing him. He's the most boring man in the world. I can barely manage to stay awake when he talks to me. But, at this point, you could come on Thursday.”
“All right.”
“Do you promise to tell me why you're here?”
“And do you promise to tell me more stories?”
“As many as you wish.”
“Thank you, Eleonora.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Francesca stood up and headed toward the exit. Eleonora watched her walk away and reflected on that unusual day and this guest who had popped up out of nowhere. She noticed that she walked like Gabriele did, as far as she could remember, with her shoulders slightly hunched forward. She stood up, too, and went upstairs to her room. She freshened up, sat down at her dressing table, and fixed her makeup. She had always loved showing the world her best side.
And it made no difference that now her world was limited, almost exclusively, to the residents and the personnel of Villa Thalia.
Sacrifices
“How did it go yesterday?”
“What?”
“With your financial adviser.”
“Ah, Giovanni... It went as usual, he wouldn't stop talking. That man has a problem; actually, I think he has more than one but the other ones aren't any of my business.”
“And what would that problem be?”
“His tone of voice never changes.”
“Soporific.”
“I think it's a tactic to make me do what he wants. You know, hypnosis? Yesterday, too, in the end he had me write a few signatures but I have no idea what I signed.”
“Seriously?”
“No, I'm joking, I know perfectly well what I signed. The body might be slowing down but the head still functions. Plus, with the commissions that Borghi & Associati get, I'd say they're swindling me legally. And what about you? What have you been up to?”
“I went around some.”
“Good for you. Where did you go?”
“To Milan.”
“Did you like it?”
“A lot, what I could see of it. I'll go back.”
“Was it the first time you went there?”
“Yes, we came to Italy about ten years ago, Richard and I, right after we got married, but we went to Rome, Florence, Venice, Naples... Capri, too: a must on the classic tour of Americans. Three weeks, beautiful.”
“Did you go by yourself?”
“To Milan? No.”
“You aren't here alone?”
“No, with the children.”
“Ah… and where are they now?”
“With Jenny, their babysitter. She came, too. We're staying in a residential hotel in Como.”
“I didn't think...”
“What?”
“I don't know, I was convinced they had stayed at home, with their father.”
“He's in Hong Kong for work. Until the end of July.”
“Is he often gone?”
“Yes.”
“Does it bother you?”
“I've gotten used to it.”
“Where did you two meet?”
“At Harvard: I was studying law, he was studying economics.”
“So you're a lawyer.”
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was until Sophia arrived, two years after David.”
“And then what happened?”
“Richard thought I should be a full-time mother. We wouldn't have any problems, with what he earned.”
“Richard thought?”
“It was his idea.”
“And what did you think?”
“Well, that basically he was right.”
“Seriously?”
“We talked it over a lot.”
“You didn't mind leaving your job?”
“It wasn't easy.”
“You might have given up on a nice career. You studied a lot, for what? To be a good wifey? You needed Harvard for that? A good course in home economics would have been enough... In my day, it was very popular.”
“Eleonora…”
“Your father didn't say anything?”
“He wasn't enthusiastic but basically it was my life.”
“Yours or Richard's?”
“Please...”
“I'm sorry, my dear... I shouldn't have permitted myself.”
“It doesn't matter, it's fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes... no, I don't know.”
“Shall we change the subject?”
“Maybe it's better.”
“How old are your children?”
“Nine and seven.”
“Are they beautiful?”
“I have a couple of photos... No, they're in my other purse, I'm sorry.”
“It doesn't matter... Maybe one day you could bring them with you and let me meet them. If you'll still want to come visit me...”
“Of course!”
“Ah, finally, a nice smile.”
“Thank you, Eleonora.”
“For what? For meddling?”
“I'm glad I'm here.”
“Oh my dear, that makes me happy.”
“Really?”
“Really... When are you returning to the United States? I'm not trying to send you back. It's just curiosity.”
“I'm not sure.”
“You don't have a return flight?”
“I haven't bought the tickets yet.”
“Summer isn't bad on Lake Como.”
“I'm beginning to think so, too.”
“Coffee and biscuits?”
“Why not?”
Eleonora motioned to Giorgio, who was standing to the side in a corner of the room, his hands crossed in front of him, almost invisible but attentive to the guests' slightest signal. As she ordered the coffee, she stole a glance at Francesca, who was looking in another direction.
Perhaps inside herself.
