Beneath the Covers (Kimani Romance) (12 page)

Italy

I
t would end in Italy among the rich cultural heritage of undiscovered towns, fine baroque architecture, white sandy beaches, culinary delights and fine wine. With its typical Mediterranean climate—hot, dry summers and long days of sunshine—Italy allowed the crew to shoot some of the best scenes yet. They traveled through unforgettable landscapes blanketed with blooming flora and an assortment of trees including palms, olives, lemons and oranges.

After resting for a day, they filmed Claudia and Peter taking a hot-air balloon ride to visit a small hilltop town with a spectacular view of southern Italy’s countryside. The streets were narrow and mazelike and whitewashed, providing excellent contrast and background imagery. That night, under a pitch-black sky punctuated with thousands of stars, the town awoke. Musicians of all ages appeared and played traditional music while some of the spirited residents shared their dances in the old ways.

An entire day was set aside to film Claudia and Peter learning about wines made from that part of the country. As they drove, they were met with rows and rows of grapevines stretching off into the distance. Since the time of the year they’d arrived was not the time of harvest, which was August to the end of October, Peter and Claudia were graciously given a private tour by the town’s mayor, a tall, deeply tanned individual with a wonderful laugh, who in exchange for his time wanted to be featured in one of the episodes. Frank obliged. The crew was allowed to tour the best wineries and meet famous wine producers in the area and taste their best wines, all while exploring the beautiful countryside.

Disappointment struck twice, however, when Frank discovered that their next intended episode, featuring the making of Italy’s finest olive oil, would not be possible because the olive harvest began in October and ran through February, and their filming would be completed by the end of summer. Both disappointments regarding the wine and olive oil were the direct result of Lance not attending to detail. He had relied on information pulled off a website instead of contacting the tourist board in the area. Frank knew then that he’d be letting Lance go, once they got back home. In addition to his role filming some of the scenes, and providing lighting, he’d been assigned the job of scheduling all locations, making sure everything went as planned. It was evident that he wasn’t up to the task, and Frank was thankful the mishap had happened in only one location. Again thanks to Frank’s genius, instead of filming the cohosts actually making olive oil, he decided to develop a skillfully narrated version using Peter’s recognizable voice as the voice-over, explaining to the viewers the different techniques used. As a result of the mayor’s influence, Claudia and Peter were filmed visiting and dining at some of the best and most ancient olive oil mills in Italy. Ashley had a lot to do, and she had to be creative with the wardrobe selections.

She was relieved to have brought along an assortment of accessories, because changing what the hosts wore was vital to avoiding stagnant scenes.

For a full dining experience, the meals had olive oil in or with everything. They particularly liked an array of tempting appetizers where olive oil was drizzled over nonpasta dishes, such as roasted peppers, marinated artichoke hearts and sliced eggplants. The day ended with an invitation to the mayor’s house, where they were able to taste the light and fruity extra-virgin olive oil produced in the northern part of the area and compare it with the stronger and spicy oil produced in the southern part. Before the filming, none of the crew, including the hosts, had any idea that olive oil could taste so vastly different, and Claudia had been unsure that it would be interesting. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to see olive oil being made, and she was pleasantly surprised by how fascinating the process was.

Early the next morning, Claudia sat on the terrace of the bed-and-breakfast, knowing she didn’t want to leave. While the rooms were certainly not as opulent as those in Hawaii, Bermuda or France, they were bright and airy and furnished in the relaxing pastel colors seen all over that region. Plus, it was close to the Mediterranean Sea.

She especially enjoyed the owners, two white-haired middle-aged sisters, Brigitta and Natalia, who were fluent in English and French as well as Italian.

Each morning, breakfast was provided on the terrace—and the guests got to taste several of southern Italy’s famous breads, which were made in an ancient stone oven. Along with the bread were tasteful seasonal fruits: black and green figs, sweet pears and red oranges, grown by the sisters in their garden. Whenever they could, Brigitta and Natalia had breakfast, lunch and dinner with the crew and enjoyed telling them about life in the town. Claudia wasn’t sure she’d keep her figure with all the eating they kept doing, but she never had the willpower to refuse what was offered. Besides, she could always work off several pounds by spending more time with Peter.

Natalia and Brigitta loved seeing them together. They told Claudia so one evening while she stood enjoying the setting sun under a tree where Peter had left her after a long stroll and a delicious kiss goodbye before he went to meet with Frank.

“A woman in love is one of the prettiest things in the world,” Brigitta said.

“You’re such a happy couple,” Natalia added.

Claudia smiled, because she knew people liked to say that even when they didn’t mean it. All young couples appeared happy.

“I can see you don’t believe me,” Natalia said with a knowing look. “It’s because you think too much up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Instead of in here.” She tapped her chest.

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“I take no offense. You’re young and you don’t know as much as you think yet.”

“That Peter,” Brigitta said. “He is a good man. Sturdy, strong.” She winked. “Rich.”

Claudia couldn’t stop a smile. “Yes, but I have money, too.”

Brigitta waved the thought away with a quick motion of her hand. “It’s always a lot more fun to spend a man’s money. It’s even better when he spends it on you.”

Natalia nodded. “That Peter of yours reminds me of my Giuseppe.”

“Giuseppe?” Claudia asked, surprised. She knew the two sisters had never married. “Was he a nephew or brother?”

“He was my heart. The man I was to marry. We were engaged and would have married right away, but I wanted to wait until the war was over. I was a practical woman and thought it was the right choice. He never came back. I’ve always regretted that.” She clasped Claudia’s hand. “Grasp a chance when it comes. You may never get another opportunity again.”

Claudia took Natalia’s words to heart and seized every opportunity she got to be with Peter both on and off the set. But she knew that opportunity would soon end. She had made a lifetime of memories with him and knew it would be hard to say goodbye. But she had no other choice.

She thought about their affair as she sat on the terrace and rehearsed how she would part with him.

Suddenly, Frank ran out onto the terrace. “Start packing.”

“Why?”

“There’s a storm warning.”

“A storm? Why didn’t they tell us earlier?”

“Brigitta just told me. She heard the warning on her shortwave radio. They are evacuating the entire area.”

With so much going on with the project no one on the crew had bothered to turn on the radio, since most of the stations were in Italian and they hadn’t seen a need to listen to English stations such as the BBC or the Voice of America.

Sirens pierced the air.

Brigitta came to the doorway. “It’s going to be bad, very bad. Whenever you hear the sirens, you know it’s going to bad. With Natalia’s help, I was able to get all of your plane tickets changed.” She handed them to Frank.

“Oh, here comes Natalia.” The older woman’s face reflected the sobering news.

“It’s bad, bad. They are warning of pounding rain and extreme flooding. They are evacuating everyone. The last time we experienced a storm like this, the entire town was under water for over a week and twenty people lost their lives, including a family of four. You need to go right now, if you don’t want to get stuck here before the airport closes.”

The siren continued to wail.

“Where’s Peter?” Claudia asked.

“He’s with Roy and Lance getting extra footage for filler scenes. We’re going to need them. It looks like we’ll be losing a week out of the schedule because of this.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I sent a message to them. Ashley will be traveling with you. Come on. We don’t have much time. You two will fly out on the first plane. The rescue team is sending a helicopter for Peter, Roy and Lance. They will fly out on the next flight right behind Eugene and myself.

Claudia stood, wanting to scream while looking up at the clear sky, not believing that it would soon transform into gray storm clouds. Once again, fate would separate her from Peter without a formal goodbye.

He hated rain. Peter sat in the back of the SUV he shared with Lance and Roy as the torrential rain pounded the windshield. Roy drove in silence while Lance listened to the weather report. The day had started off well when he’d left the warm comfort of Claudia’s bed to go get fillers with the two cameramen. Peter had heard about a tiny village up in the mountains from a local resident who’d told him that it was rarely visited by tourists and had a unique artist community. Frank agreed to the excursion, always eager to make sure they had as much footage as possible. Peter’s interest was piqued further when he heard about the village’s long tradition of making papier-mâché, known as
cartapestra,
and the area’s examples of
cartapestra
dating back to the seventeenth century. The location was also known for exquisite stonework carved into the churches and palaces, using an unusual rock found in the formations in the hills surrounding the village.

By the time they arrived, the town center was beginning to come alive with artisans, and Peter didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Don’t forget the stonework,” he told Roy.

Roy shot him a glance. “You got everything else—you want to take my job, too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Roy shrugged. “Nothing. I wouldn’t want anything I say to get me fired.”

“Come on, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it,” Lance said, hoping to defuse the tension between Peter and Roy.

Roy ignored him. “What are you even doing here, Warren? Isn’t it enough that you’re hosting the show? You have to manage us filming it, too?”

“I like being involved in every aspect of production. I wasn’t criticizing,” Peter said, trying to be fair. “I just know what to look for because I used to be behind the camera.” Peter rested his hands on his hips. “But you don’t like me for another reason, right?” He raised a brow and a slight smile touched his lips. “Is it Claudia?”

Peter’s smug expression made something in Roy snap. He’d seen that smile on the boys who’d stolen his lunch money, who’d made fun of his hand-me-down clothes. But he was bigger now and wanted to wipe that smile from Peter’s face. He set his camera down. “Yes, it’s about Claudia,” he said then punched him.

Lance rushed forward. “Are you crazy?”

Peter stopped him with an outstretched hand. “It’s all right,” he said then tentatively rubbed his jaw. “What’s on your mind, Fitcher?”

“You’re a fraud,” Roy said, further angered by Peter’s calm. “You’re a user and you’re using Claudia to cover for you.”

“I’m not—”

“I know you’re not gay, but you’re something. I just haven’t figured out what yet. What I do know is that everything comes easy for you and you take it all for granted, but I won’t let you treat Claudia like all the others.”

Peter sniffed. “And how do you plan to stop me?”

Roy saw the challenge and took it. He rushed at Peter, but at the last moment Peter moved aside then gripped him in a choke hold. “You’re right. I’m not what I seem,” he whispered in his ear, his voice dark with menace. “And I don’t care what you think of me, but when it comes to Claudia stay out of my way.” He shoved Roy from him and Roy stumbled forward holding his neck. “Now go shoot the stonework.”

Roy glared at him but knew better than to say anything. Lance opened his mouth to comment but stopped when Peter’s cell phone rang. That’s when their plans changed. Frank told him to start for the airport ASAP because a major storm was headed for the town. He’d packed their suitcases and everything would be there when they arrived.

Now the three men traveled down a steep winding road and could see that the rain battered the embankment. The immense volume of water raging down the river as a result of the torrential rain from up north was flooding the low-lying areas. Lance had speculated they could risk driving the SUV along the rugged country roads, and after a harrowing forty-five minutes, they finally drove onto a main road leading to the airport. But they still had twenty miles to go.

Peter heard Lance suddenly swear. “What is it?”

“The announcer said that a strong southerly wind was expected to push the Mediterranean deep on land. He expects the flood to be like the disastrous ones which have struck the south of Italy eight times in eleven years.”

Roy pulled the car over to the side. “I need to stop for a minute.”

“Can’t it wait?” Peter said, in no mood to get stuck in mud on some country road.

“You want to go out in this weather?” Lance said, also stunned by Roy’s request.

Roy did not answer. He got out of the SUV and walked toward a field. Thankfully, the heavy rain had lightened, but Peter and Lance didn’t understand their companion’s strange behavior.

“If it’s a nature call, he could use one of the bottles in the back of the van.” Lance looked at his watch. “We need to get going if we are going to get to the airport on time, especially in this weather.”

Peter did not respond. He was looking at Roy with growing concern.

Lance looked over at Roy as well. “What do you think is wrong with him? It’s like he’s having some sort of attack,” he said when Roy doubled over.