The Last Promise by Richard Paul Evans Read Free Book Online

I will need to make some arrangement. But I am free tomorrow. If you like, I could get my car and we could see a few places.”
    “Tomorrow would be fine.”
    “I must talk to the people with the apartments, of course, but early afternoon would probably be the best time.”
    “How about three o’clock?”
    Luigi looked at a calendar on the wall. “ Alle tre, yes, three o’clock would be good. Do you have a phone number where you can be called?”
    “Yes.” Ross wrote down the number and handed it to him. “That’s my cellular.” The agent looked at the number then slipped it into his front pocket.
    “I will only call if something comes up. Otherwise we can plan to meet here at three tomorrow. I will have a car to drive. Va bene? ”
    Ross stood. “Va bene. Grazie.”
    “A domani.” See you tomorrow.
     
    The next morning Francesca was nearly twenty minutes late for the tour, and Ross, sensing the group’s growing impatience, started without her, which simultaneously pleased and concerned her. When she caught up with him, she took him aside. “Don’t forget you are an abusivo, ” she warned. “Some of the other guides will want to turn you in to the commune. If you are stopped, you must tell them you are only helping me and I am in the toilet or getting a coffee.”
    “That’s how it works, huh?”
    “Yes. Many are very jealous of me.”
    Even before he finished the tour, Francesca had arranged for another—an American group from an active Dayton retirement center. He thought that he could fit the group in before his afternoon appointment, but found that they moved from exhibit to exhibit almost as if in slow motion. By the time they reached the second corridor, they were spending more time looking for places to rest than at art, so he abbreviated the last half of the tour.
    Still, it was past three when Ross ran from the Uffizi, hailed a cab and arrived at the real estate office. It was another sweltering day and the front of his shirt was stained with perspiration. He wiped his forehead with a Kleenex as he walked in.
    “I’m sorry I’m late.”
    Luigi appeared relieved to see him. “It is no problem. I was only afraid you might not come. I have made us four appointments for today. Our first appointment is one in the country with a beautiful view, about twelve kilometers from downtown. It is a very small community near Greve in Chianti. There are many vineyards, you said you like vineyards.”
    Ross nodded.
    “There is an apartment a little closer to town in Grassina. It would be maybe a fifteen-minute ride by motorino to the center of town. There is also a villa near Impruneta that I have not seen but it sounds interesting. Afterwards, if you are not too tired, there is another place we might go and see. It’s on the other side of Florence in Fiesole. It is a little bit further drive but it is very beautiful in Fiesole. I haven’t seen the apartment myself but my partner says it is magnificent.” He took his jacket from the back of his chair. “Shall we go?”
    Ross followed Luigi out to his car: a small, navy-blue Punto double-parked in front of the agency, with its hazard lights flashing.
    Their first stop was in Chiocchio, a Chianti township about a half-hour drive from Florence. The road to the community was nicknamed la strada del vino ( the street of wine ), as for many kilometers both sides of the road were flanked by large, well-cared-for vineyards.
    The rental property was a hundred-year-old summer cottage up a gravel drive lined with cypress trees and terra-cotta figurines. It had a large front porch that looked out onto a valley of vineyards and farmhouses and a small fishing lake, Lago Chiocchio . Next to the home was a limonaia , where lemon trees grew in terra-cotta pots for the winter.
    There were no homes nearby and this bothered Ross. He wanted his privacy but not solitary confinement. In addition, the home was larger than he needed, with an expansive family room and three