The Summer Villa

At last, the Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat was due to open next month and Kim couldn’t wait.

‘Just here,’ she said, as she supervised the delivery guys. The patio furniture some of the locals were carrying had been hand-picked by Kim, each piece reflecting her own classic style as well as the influence of their Amalfi Coast surroundings.

‘Giving orders already, I see,’ an amused male voice called out from behind her.

Kim smiled. ‘Someone once told me that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.’

‘Yes, I think I have heard that one.’ Antonio Berger had been one of Kim’s business partners for the past five years. More than two decades her senior, the Italian was more of a father figure and mentor, and encouraged her in every venture she pursued.

When she’d first met him and his wife, Emilia, on her first visit to Italy almost six years before, they’d been a welcome presence in her life and much-needed guides as she tried to navigate away from her upbringing and figure out what to do with her life.

Antonio, as ever, was dressed in a light-coloured linen suit and square-front brown leather shoes. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed back regally, accentuating his long face and square jaw, and his lively brown eyes lit up as he smiled at her.

‘As always, you already seem to have everything covered,’ he commented, stepping back and casually slipping a hand into his trouser pocket as he regarded the villa’s freshly renovated grandeur. ‘You certainly don’t need me.’

‘I always need you,’ she answered with a grin. ‘So do you want the grand tour?’

The pair walked back towards the main house together. ‘You haven’t been here since we bought it, have you?’ she realised as she led him through the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the rear.

She smiled fondly as the memories of her arrival here all those years ago came rushing back.

How the kitchen had once been a cornucopia of blue, green and yellow with its grubby tiling, mismatched cheap units, and equally mismatched plates and cups on the open shelves. All the kitchen units were now bespoke in dark wood, complementing the ochres and light blue accents, and contrasting the wider openings and light tinted walls.

A brand-new staircase replaced the old heavy wooden steps and rails, completely redefining the formerly dark and dreary entryway. Constructed in white-coated metal, the stairs appeared as if suspended from a softly curved aperture above the main space, adding instant character and interest to the reception area.

The interiors felt lighter, brighter, and much more spacious, with blues and greys of the ocean incorporated primarily in the soft furnishings, bringing a restful classic feel that could be easily updated.

The colour ochre recurred throughout, contrasting with new glass openings overhead and lighter shades on the walls. Bright terrazzo flooring had been installed throughout in place of the dark terracotta mishmash that had welcomed Kim six years before.

‘Actually, no,’ he replied. ‘I meant to, but you know … with Emilia,’ he added gently, referring to his wife who had recently been diagnosed with dementia.

‘How is she?’

Kim noted the way Antonio’s chest rose and fell before he spoke. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to come to terms with the fact that the person you love will eventually lose all memory of you and the life you shared.

It was difficult enough for Kim to get her head around the decline of a sunny, vibrant woman into the confused and frightened soul she apparently was now.

Not that she’d seen Emilia recently, she thought guiltily, given how busy she’d been getting this place ready for the launch. The Bergers were based in Milan, while Kim lived in California, where her husband was from, and whenever she travelled to Italy to check on the renovation project, her short visits had been restricted to the Amalfi Coast.

‘It is hard to say. Sometimes she is perfectly lucid, the same Emilia, while others …’ he trailed off solemnly. ‘The doctors have been talking about residential care but I think that is premature,’ he added, almost to himself. Kim knew the very idea of it was killing him.

She stepped forward to give him another hug.

‘It’ll be lovely to see her at the party and once all of this is over, I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with you both.’

He patted her back paternally. ‘It’s OK, I’m coming to terms with it, and for the most part she is still my Emilia. We’ve had a good life and have been through a lot together. She gave me two beautiful children and almost forty years of true love,’ he said with a fond smile. ‘I would be nowhere else than by her side.’

‘Then I’m even more grateful that you carved out the time for me. I know it must’ve been a wrench to leave her.’

He shook his head lightly. ‘No, no, she is excited about this. You needed me also, and of course she and I are not just your partners, but your friends, too. In any case,’ he teased, ‘perhaps she will not even miss me.’

Though she knew he was joking, she could still hear the pain behind his words. Ever the optimist, she knew he was trying his utmost to not let his wife’s diagnosis blight their lives or dampen their spirits.

Now he took both of her hands in his. ‘So how are you, bella?’

Kim smiled gamely but knew it didn’t reach her eyes and Antonio would likely see through her own pretence just as easily. ‘Just OK,’ she answered, averting her gaze. ‘I’m a bit tired. There’s been a lot going on and still loads to get through. At least I’m here on the ground now, the invites are out and the guest list is finalised …’

‘Well, it’s a long list. Are your friends going to make it? The ladies who were with you that summer?’

Kim had almost forgotten she’d first met Antonio the same time as Annie and Colette. The three had come together as strangers six years ago at the villa but in the ensuing years had managed to maintain their friendship, albeit at long-distance with their contact now sporadic.

She and Colette had been guests at each other’s weddings, and she’d managed to meet up with Annie on a business trip to Dublin the year before last.

Of course, social media made it easy to keep track of each other’s lives, but Kim missed the closeness they’d shared that summer. It would be so lovely to get the gang back together in person for a reunion. Here at the villa, especially.

‘I hope so,’ Kim said, realising that she needed to check in on the RSVPs. She’d sent invites to both women, asking them and their respective plus ones to next month’s official Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat launch celebration, including flights and a hotel stay over a long weekend.

Once the party was done and the centre officially open for reservations, Kim would be temporarily free from work obligations. She relished the chance of catching up with them here and revisiting some of their old haunts.

She hooked her arm in Antonio’s. ‘Let’s keep going. I’ve still got lots to show you. The bedrooms have been transformed, too, and wait till you see where we managed to slot in the massage area.’

When he’d finished his tour of the accommodation area, and its new state-of-the-art wellness facilities, Antonio nodded with satisfaction. ‘You’ve done an amazing job, Kim. The investors will be more than happy.’

‘I just hope it’s enough to get those reservations flooding in.’ She smiled. ‘Now, how about lunch? We can head down to Il Buco, maybe? I’m feeling in the mood for pizzaiola beef.’

Antonio looked at her with a sad smile. ‘Bella, in all the time I’ve been here you have not once mentioned your husband. Gabe is coming next month, too, I hope?’

Kim’s heart stuttered guiltily. ‘Of course. He and Lily are flying in soon, actually.’ Her three-year-old, a beautiful little girl she barely saw these days.

Gabriel’s plan was to have some long overdue family time in Italy together before everything kicked off. Kim only hoped that things would run smoothly in the run-up to the launch so that she could carve out the necessary time.

Much like Antonio, her husband was an optimist at heart.

Now she could feel her mentor’s eyes following her as they meandered back out to the courtyard and down the steps to the pool terrace perched on the edge of the property. When she turned to look at him, the expression on his face said it all.

‘Don’t …’

He smiled weakly. ‘I’m sorry but thirty-odd years of marriage has taught me well. I know trouble when I see it.’ He stepped closer, taking Kim’s hand in his as he patted her knuckles. ‘Why don’t we go to lunch and you tell me everything? All right?’

But Kim didn’t want to talk about her personal life. She really didn’t. She had enough on her mind.

‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he insisted gently and she knew there was no point in refusing.

While she’d never been able to talk to her father, to trust or confide in him, Antonio was so much more reliable. He understood her, sometimes even better than she did herself.

Minutes later, Kim leaned her head back against the plush leather seats of Antonio’s convertible Maserati as the car wound along the coast towards Sorrento. She gazed out over the water, catching sight of the magnificent island of Capri in the distance. She held her hand out, allowing the warm breeze to pass through her fingers as sunlight danced across the dazzling blue of the sea.

She would never, ever tire of this view and doubted there were many others in the world to compare.