was cheapest. As soon as I received the confirmation from the airline, I sent the information to Ms. Moretti, who responded immediately with detailed instructions about what to expect upon my arrival in Tuscany.
CHAPTER 2
FIONA
The journey from Florida to Florence was an ordeal that I had not anticipated. I had no one to blame but myself for the horrors of my itinerary, because I was not a seasoned traveler and had selected two long layovers in New York and Frankfurt, which resulted in twenty-six hours of travel time.
Foolishly, I’d imagined I would sleep on the plane as it flew over the Atlantic, but I was seated in economy, at the back of the aircraft, in the second-to-last row on the aisle, next to the lavatories. The noise was a constant disturbance during the night. I envied the woman beside me, who had nodded off as soon as the meal trays were collected, but she had taken a sleeping pill. Smart woman. I wished I’d thought of that, because the woman snored the entire time and I only managed to doze in brief spurts. By the time the aircraft touched down in Frankfurt, I understood why those flights were called red-eyes. I felt like a member of the zombie apocalypse.
Next, I was faced with another exhausting eight hours of layover in Frankfurt before I flew to Florence, where I arrived after dark and had to wait yet another hour in a slow-moving lineup at passport control. By this time, I truly was a member of the walking dead. All I wanted to do was brush my teeth and find a soft place to collapse for the next ten to twelve hours.
When the Italian officer stamped my passport and waved me through, I wheeled my carry-on suitcase past the baggage carousel, keeping my eye out for a driver holding up a sign with my name on it, but there was no such person at arrivals. My heart sank because I didn’t have the mental or emotional stamina to determine how to get from Florence to Montepulciano in the darkness when I didn’t even speak the language.
With a sigh, I dug into my purse for my phone and searched for Ms. Moretti’s email, hoping she had provided a number to call. All I remembered was that she’d told me I would be staying at Anton Clark’s place of business, a winery that included an inn on the premises, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of the winery.
I was scrolling through the messages in my inbox when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Scusa. Ms. Bell?”
I swung around to find myself facing a weathered-looking fortysomething Italian man in loose-fitting jeans and a plaid shirt.
“Yes,” I replied. “Are you Marco?”
“Sì!” He held up the sheet of paper with my name on it. “I am your driver. Welcome to Italy.”
“Thank you.”
He reached for my suitcase and picked it up. “Here, we say grazie, and I will say prego. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for my first lesson in Italian,” I replied good-naturedly, hurrying to keep up with him. “Or I should say grazie.”
He smiled broadly. “Very good. Molto bene.”
I followed him out of the terminal to a black Mercedes sedan parked at the curb. He opened the back door for me, and I climbed onto the leather seat, wondering if Marco would consider it rude if I were to lie down and fall asleep as soon as he hit the gas.
Without missing a beat, Marco shut the trunk, got into the driver’s seat, and started up the engine. “How was your flight?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“Long. I’ll be glad to get to a warm bed.”
“I understand. The drive will take about an hour and a half. Rest if you like.”
“I might do that.” I turned to look out the window. “It’s too bad it’s dark outside. I was hoping to see something of Florence.”
“It’s a beautiful city,” he replied, “but overrun with tourists.”
We drove through brightly lit streets beside an ultramodern tram that had also left from the airport. Marco pointed to the right. “Look over there. You will see the Duomo.”
“What’s the Duomo?” I asked.
“The Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. The dome is lit up. Do you see?”
Sitting forward, I identified the historic cityscape in the distance. “Oh yes, there it is. It’s beautiful. I’ll have to google it. Maybe I’ll get a chance to visit while I’m here.”