The Italian Matchmaker by Santa Montefiore Read Free Book Online

ugly white satellite dishes nailed into the medieval walls, savouring the warm smell of spring that rose into the air with the heat. His thoughts were drawn again to the woman he had seen on the beach, though she was clearly a wife and mother. There was no way he wanted to further complicate his life by chatting up a married woman, certainly not in an Italian town where the men were sure to be protective of their women and suspicious of foreigners. He put her out of his mind.
    ‘So, you’ve quit the City,’ said Romina as they left the town behind and started climbing the hill. ‘About time too! Now we will see more of you.’
    ‘I’ve come to a crossroads in my life. I need to take time to work out which way I want to go.’
    ‘The world is your oyster, Luca. You have enough money to do anything you want. You don’t even have to work if you don’t want to.’
    He sighed. ‘That’s the trouble, there are too many options. It’s better when you have limits, easier to make a choice. The truth is, nothing inspires me.’
    ‘That’s because the divorce has knocked you for six. Claire is a great disappointment. But you’re young. There is still time to marry again and begin a new life. You have come to the right place. Palazzo Montelimone will fill you with inspiration. We are nearly there.’ The road turned sharply round a bend and began to get steeper, appearing narrower in the shadow of the encroaching trees and shrubs. Finally, they forked off to the right. ‘Now we are approaching the gates. We have kept the original ones. They were too beautiful to throw away,’ Romina explained. ‘There! Aren’t they splendid?’
    The gates were black and imposing as gates to a magnificent palace should be. His parents had gone to so much trouble he wondered why they hadn’t put in electric gates that opened with the press of a button. He got out to open them and looked up the drive that swept in a graceful curve through an avenue of cypress trees, opening at the end into a pool of bright sunshine. There, in that magical pool of light, stood the palazzo . His mother tooted the horn to hurry him. ‘Do get on, darling. I’m hungry.’
    ‘I think that’s the loveliest entrance I’ve ever seen,’ he said when he returned to the car.
    ‘You know, when we saw it for the first time it was nothing but stones and ivy. The garden had taken over, climbing in through the holes and seeding itself in the rooms. Only one of the two towers was left standing. It was so sad. So neglected. It was as if it had given up, abandoning itself to its fate like a beautiful woman crippled by age. I fell in love, Luca.’
    ‘How did you find it if the owner didn’t want to sell?’
    ‘By chance. I was painting a palazzo just outside Sorrento and the lady who owned it mentioned this place. She said that if she had had the money she would have bought it and resurrected it herself. She had beautiful taste, so I was intrigued. I drove here on my own and took a look around. No one was at home. I called your father and told him he had to come and take a look. We were thinking of retiring to Italy anyway. I knew this would be an incredible project for both of us. Having worked for other people all our lives, what fun to work for ourselves!’
    Romina parked the car on the gravel in front of the palazzo . The building was of the same sand-coloured stone as the town. The windows were capped with ornate baroque pediments and opened on to ornamental iron balconies. Heavy brickwork gave way to plaster on the first and second floors and the roof was covered with pink tiles, rising into two magnificent towers. It stood nestled among lofty pine trees and inky green cypresses. ‘Come, darling. Let me show you inside.’
    The door was vast and arched and made of old oak. Within it was a smaller door that opened into a hall of large square flagstones. ‘These stones are the original ones,’ said Romina, leading him through into a pretty courtyard. ‘I