HappenedinTuscany
LorenaFranco
TranslatedbyGeorgianaBulancea
“HappenedinTuscany”
WrittenByLorenaFranco
Copyright©2017LorenaFranco
Allrightsreserved
DistributedbyBabelcube,Inc.
www.babelcube.com
TranslatedbyGeorgianaBulancea
“BabelcubeBooks”and“Babelcube”aretrademarksofBabelcubeInc.
TableofContents
TitlePage
CopyrightPage
HappenedinTuscany
CHAPTER1
TheDate
TheDate
CHAPTER2
CHAPTER3
CHAPTER4
CHAPTER5
CHAPTER6
CHAPTER7
CHAPTER8
CHAPTER9
CHAPTER10
CHAPTER11
CHAPTER12
CHAPTER13
CHAPTER14
CHAPTER15
CHAPTER16
HAPPENEDIN
LorenaFranco
Translateby:GeorgiaBulancea
"WHENYOUTHINKYOUKNOWALLTHEANSWERS,THE
UNIVERSEINTERFERESANDCHANGESYOURQUESTIONS."
Copyright©2016
LorenaFranco
Copyrightregistryoffice.
Allrightsreserved.
©HAPPENEDINTUSCANY.
Availableonpaper.
FirstEdition:October2016
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,recordingorotherwise,withoutthepriorandinwritingpermissionfromtheauthor.
Violationoftheaboverightsmayconstituteacrimeagainstintellectualproperty(Article270etseq.oftheCriminalCode).
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
Lorena Franco, (Barcelona, 1983), is an actress and presenter. She has participated in well-known TV series (El secreto de Puente Viejo, Gavilanes, Pelotas, Centro Médico ... among others);TVprograms,filmandcommercialsatnationalandinternationallevel.
She combines her career as an actress with her passion for literature in which she has excelled in Amazon, with more than eleven titles, becoming one of the most sought and best ratedwritersofthemoment.
Her novel LA VIAJERA DEL TIEMPO was a finalist for the Amazon Indie Contest 2016,FantasyBestsellerandoneofthebestsellingnovelsontheplatform.
With HAPPENED IN TUSCANY, Lorena Franco returns to her romantic origins after havingwrittenThrillerandFantasy..
ThankyouforpurchasingthisEBOOK.Alsoavailable inpape r.
Share youropiniononthe bookshe e t.
Youcancontactme
onthe followingsocialne tworks:
www.lorenafranco.net
INDEX
CHAPTER1
CHAPTER2
CHAPTER3
CHAPTER4
CHAPTER5
CHAPTER6
CHAPTER7
CHAPTER8
CHAPTER9
CHAPTER10
CHAPTER11
CHAPTER12
CHAPTER13
CHAPTER14
CHAPTER15
CHAPTER16
CHAPTER1
ALICE
Awritercanreachthatmomentwhenhismusesforsakehim.Thatterriblesituationinwhich you try to look for inspiration in front of a cold computer screen with a blank page and yet, despitehavingpublishedtwonovelsperyearforfifteenimpressiveyears,theideasseemto havedisappearedasbymagic.
It is seven o'clock on a hot July day in New York. My fifteen-year-old daughter must be asleep; Yesterday I let her out until late at night, and, though I couldn´t sleep a wink until I heardthesoundofherbedroomdoor,hereIam:lyingonthecouchinmystudy,lookingatthe computerasifitweremyworstenemy;Inwalkingshoesathomeandinpyjamas.Messyhair, puffyeyesandterribledarkcircles,theresultofnothavingsleptwellduringthislastyear,in which after twenty-two years of being in a relationship, my marriage ended because of a twenty-five-year-oldblondegirl.
Ihaveabsolutelynothingtooffermyliteraryagent.
Icouldtalkaboutthestoryofanewlydivorcedwomaninherforties,whofindsitalmost impossibletothinkoffallinginloveagain,afteranabsorbingandcontrollingrelationship,full ofliesandfalseappearancesduetothefearofwhatpeoplemightsay.
I could talk about the blind date I have tonight with the brother of the aforementioned literaryagent.
Or I could talk about the difficult personality of a teenage girl, who hates her mother, because she thinks she was the one to blame for the fact that her Dad went to build another homewithanotherwoman.
IwishIdidnottalkaboutmyself.AndIwouldlikenottogobacktodeceiveanddelude myreaderswithperfectmenwholovea smartyheroin,becauseintherealworldsuchthings don´texist.
Iwouldlikenottotalkaboutlove.Neitherofhopesorstoriesthatremainindreams.What Ireallywantisatruestory,butnomatterhowmuchIchewonit,myheadisheavyandIcan´t findtheinspiration.
IthinkofJack,myex-husband.Oh,God..."ex-husband."Itsoundssobad.Howmuchit hurtsstill,especiallywhenIpictureitinBalispendinghistimewiththetwenty-five-year-old bleached blonde and forgetting that he has a daughter who still adores and needs him. We haven´t seen him for months, and he wasn´t even interested in knowing how Amy is after all thathashappened.Hewasalwaysacoldandarroganthuman,butIneverthoughthecoulddo somuchharmtohisowndaughter.
Idecidetoleavemystudioandheadforthekitchentomakesomecoffee.Toclearupmy mind a bit, forget everything that hurts. Absorbed in the noise of the machine preparing the coffee,Ilookoutthewindowattheneighbourfromthebuildingopposite;asshewalksinher birthday suit through her kitchen. She looks happy. I am happy for her and I envy her at the same time. I would like to at least learn how to be a happy, carefree woman. Not just
pretending.I'mtiredofpretending.Andbeone.Behappy,carefree.Or,astheyoungpeopleof todaysay:"Getovereverything."
IreturntomystudiowithalargecupofcoffeeinmyhandandalthoughthreedaysagoI promisedmyselftoquitsmoking,Ilightupacigarette.Asiftheideascametovisitmeforthe simplefactthatitwasdestroyingmylungs.
Atnine-thirtyinthemorning,aftertencigarettesandthreecupsofcoffee,Igiveup.Ileave mystudiowithoutevenahalfwrittenwordandIdecidetogoforawalkonthestreetsofNew York,notbeforeleavinganoteto"SleepingBeauty"inwhichIsaythatIhaveleftandthatI willbebackinanhour.
Walking makes me clear up my mind, but with this infernal heat, the shower of fifteen minutesthatIhad,wasoflittlehelp.IsitdownonabenchinCentralParkandwatch.Iwatch childrenplaywithremote-controlledboats;eldersholdinghandsordraggingtheirlegswitha walking stick; couples who still know what passion is in their eyes; hysterical mothers and otherscalmerandsmilingones,pushingababystroller.ForamomentIwantedtogobackto thetimewhenAmywasababyandletherselfbekissedallthetime.ThaterainwhichIwrote withoutstopping,publishedsuccessfullyandmyhusband,whostillseemedagoodperson,had eyesonlyforme.Ofcourse,backthen,Iwasyoungandattractive
andeventhoughIbelieve thatovertheyearsIhaveimprovedbothphysicallyandmentallyspeaking,maybeformenlike Jack,thatisn´tenoughorvalid.
Tonight I have a blind date with the brother of my literary agent and friend, Cindy Hope.Wehaveagreedtomeetinoneofhisrestaurants,locatedjusttwoblocksfromwhereI live. I've been gossiping on the internet, since Hope is a popular and also very attractive man.HisnameisMark,heisoneofthebestchefsintownandalsoverycharismaticman.This MarkhasfiverestaurantsinNewYorkandtwoinSanFrancisco,andfromwhatCindytold me,he'sabouttoopenanotheroneinBrooklyn.Heisquiteanentrepreneurattheageofforty-three,andwhat’smore,he’ssingle."Theremustbesomethingwrongwithhim"Isaytomyself, withanervousgiggle.It'sthefirstdateI'vehadsinceIleftJack.It'sthefirstblinddateafter twenty-two years with the same man. "How should it be done? Yes, I mean that of flirting, hookingup...Whatwasitlike?Iwillnotbeable...Iwillnotbeabletodoit."Desperate, I callCindywiththeintentionofcallingoffwhatissuretobeanothertragedyinmylife.
"Cindy,I'dreallyliketo,butIthinkit'snotthetimefordates,or..."
"Alice, listen to me carefully. You're not going to call off that date" she interrupts. "My brotherisalovelyguy,you'llhaveagoodtime.Andit'swhatyouneedinordertobringthat inspirationbacktoyourlittlehead.Tomorrowatten,cometomyoffice,wehavetotalk."
"Ididnotexpectthat"Isay,fearingthatseriousandmenacingvoice."Whatdoyouwantto talkabout?"
"Abouttheendoftheworld."Ihearhersnortontheothersideofthephoneline."Whatis it going to be about? Of your novel. Tell me you have something, please ... Even if it's only threechapters."
"Wetalktomorrow."
"Notthat.OhMyGoodness!“Shelamentsdramatically."Enjoythisnight,Alice.That'san order."
CindyhangsupthephoneandI,meanwhile,watcharemote-controlledlittleboatthathas justbeenshipwreckedbythecriesandshoutsofitssmallowneroffiveyears.
TheDate
Adate? Comeon,Mom! You'retoooldfordating"Amylaughs,lookingatmefromheadto toe,whileIdecidewhethertowearmyblackdressorthetightredone.
"Yes,ofcourseI'moldfordating.Atmyagewhatisitfittodo,Amy?Tobeburied?"
"Mother,don´ttakeitthatway...Imean,attheageofforty..."
"Forgetit,Amy.Seriously,forgetit.Blackorred?"
"Black."
"Fine,red.
Amyrollshereyes,sighs,andleavesmybedroomwithherarmsfolded.Ihearherhurrying downthecorridor,downthestairsandturningontheTV.Iknowthatshewillpreparepopcorn and probably call a friend to see some romantic comedy with Sandra Bullock, with the oldexcusethat hermotherisn´thome.
WhenIputmakeupon,Ifeelridiculous.Idecidetousesofttonesandnotdecoratemyface too much. I notice that I have some more wrinkles and that my hair is no longer the golden blondcolorthatinoldtimesgotallmenśattention.Youngmen,menwhotodaydespitetheir grayhairandwrinkles,continuetoconquerwomenwhodon´tthinkaboutmenopause,because theyarestillfarbehindintime.AsIdressedinthereddress,Iimmediatelyregretnothaving listened to my daughter in choosing the black one; but I refuse to agree with her. So, very dignified,IleavetheroomalreadydolledupandIglanceatAmy,whoisengrossedinfrontof theTV.Isay"goodbye"toher,almostwhispering,andquicklyleavethehousetoavoidfacing amockinglookandalaughthatwouldtormentmeduringthewholedate.
Onthewaytotherestaurant,severalmenlookatme.Thatbothersmeandatthesametime makesmefeelgood.Powerful,attractiveandworthytobelookedat.
As I enter the restaurant of Cindy's brother, I gape at the elegance and splendor of the place.Tablescrowdedwithpeople,thebar,fromwhichagreenphosphoritestandsout;Fullof attractivewomenintighterdressesthanmineandmeneagertoinvitethemtoadrink.Isitona stoolandaskthebartenderfora BloodyMary. Ilookaround,hopingthatmydatehascometo hisownplacebeforeme,butIdon´tseemtorecognizehiminthecrowd.I'veneverseenhimin person, he may be watching me from a distance and decide to wait ... or worse ... not to approachme! WhatifhethinksIamugly? Awful? WhatifhethinksI'maridiculousoldlady inareddressthatisn´tfitforherage,asmydaughtertoldme?
JustasIlookatthedoor,anattractiveguywithabroadbackandathleticbodyentersthe roomwithhisamplesmileofalignedteeth,whiteandperfect.Irecognizeinthoserippedhazel eyes my agent Cindy Hope and also the successful businessman I've seen online in photographs. It's my date and I can´t believe I liked him so much without even hearing his voice. What is happening to me? I wonder. That "crush" is supposed to happen when you're young,notnowinmyforties.Notnow,thatmoreaninterestingconversationsandanaffable charactershouldattractmeinsteadofasimplefacade.
Mark Hope approaches the bar and without looking at me, gets closer to an exuberant brunettenexttome,dressedinadiscreetbutelegantblackdress.
"Howareyou,beautiful?"Heasksher,withagravellyandabithoarsevoice.
Thegreen-eyedbrunettelooksconfused,butshereplieswithacharmingsmile,goingwith theflow.
"Mysisterdidnottellmeyouweresobeautiful."
Thebrunettefrowns.Ofcourse,Idoittoo,andalthoughIwanttointerruptanddisappoint him, revealing him that in fact I am his date, not the exuberant and very young brunette with green eyes and black dress; I want to continue contemplating the show and see what happens.Theycontinuetoflirtwithgesturesandlooks,askforadrinkandafterafewminutes, awomaninherfiftiescomesuptogreetmeeffusively.
"I can´t believe it! Alice Morgan! I'm a big fan of your books! Oh, God, how exciting!You'llseewhenItellmyhusband!Wouldyouliketosignmeanautograph?Sheasks, lowering the neckline of her polka-dotted shirt, making me completely out of the place and understandinghowJustinBieberfeelseverytimeafandoessomethinglikethat."
Markturnsaroundindisarrayandstaresatme.Thebrunetteshrugsandunderstandsthatthe owneroftheplacehaschosenthewrongdateandwoman.
I concentrate on signing the autograph on the neckline of my enthusiastic admirer, feeling Mark's gaze on me; I smile at the woman and thank her for her effusiveness and following.ThenIlookatMarkandlaugh.
"You ... are you Alice Morgan?" Mark asks, with some disappointment in his tone as I expectedandfeared.
"Yourblinddatefortonight,butseeinghowexcitedyouwerewithher,I'dbettergo.Your sisterwascompletelywrong."
"Comeon,it'sbeenamisunderstanding."
IgetupoffthestoolhopingthatMarkwillstopme,buthedoesn´t.Heglancesnervouslyat ashort,plumpguyinhismid-fortieswithhornrimmedglassesandmoustache,wholooksat himseriously.
Ileavetheroomslowly,almostatthesametimeasthesmall,plumpguywhohasn´tbeenin therestaurantforacoupleofseconds;andit'sMarkwhogivesmeanudgetopullmeapartso tofacethemysteriousmanface-to-face.
Ihearthemarguing,butIdon´twanttoknowwhattheyaretalkingabout.Tiredoflooking like something I'm not, I walk awkwardly with my high-heeled shoes home. I hope Amy has fallenasleeponthecouchandshecan’tseehowpatheticher oldmother is .
MARK
PeopleconstantlyaskmewhyIdidn’tgetmarried.IamalsoaskedinmanyinterviewsandI just laugh and say that time flies by, that the work has occupied all my attention throughout theseyears.
IfIhavefalleninlove?Comenow!Whatisthat?
Once
.Justonce.
Myfamilyhashadahugehouseonahill,twentyminuteswalkingfromMontepulcianofor manyyears;AvillageintheregionofTuscany.WhenIwasfifteen,Ilivedasummerromance with a beautiful Italian with black hair and eyes the same color as the coffee. It took me a whiletoconquerher,asIwasn´ttheonlyyoungmaninterestedinher.ReturningtoNewYork we wrote letters, we talked on the phone because there was still no Skype and after a few monthsIlosttouchwithher.AlthoughIkeptgoingtooursummerhousewithmyfamilyevery summer, I never heard from Isabella again. Apparently she had moved with her family to FlorenceandsoldherlittlehouseinMontepulciano.Itbrokemyheart,soIdecidednottobe thatnaiveandsensitivefifteen-year-oldguyagain,andsoIbecamethejerkthatIacknowledge thatIamnow.Ihavebeenwithcountlesswomenofallkinds,Ihaveopenedfiverestaurants andifeverythinggoeswell,inNovemberIwillopenthesixthoneinBrooklyn.Ifallgoeswell
...BecausemypersonalnightmareiscalledJohnLogan.Heisagastronomiccriticofthecity, whohatesme,andwantstoseemedeadandburiedprofessionallyspeaking.Allfora"small"
mistakewithhisseabass,whichcancostmemyreputationinthecountry.Anditdependson me that my new restaurant and the other five that I have opened for years now, continue to functionasbefore.
"Youneedtodisconnect,Mark"mysisterCindytoldmeonenightwhenshecamehomefor dinner.
She, just like me, hasn´t got married either. She is also a totally idiot, but with her own style.Insteadofgettinglaidonenightandpretendingtomeannothingthenextday,shedoesit for three or four days and then: Goodbye. She has also focused too much on her work as a literaryagent,herlifeandherpassion,andatthirty-eight,frankly,Idon´tseeherwithhusband andchildrenlikeallherhighschoolfriendshavedone.Sheiscoldandovercalculating,with moremotivationformysentimentalrelationshipsthanforherown.
"I'mgoingtoarrangeyouadate"shesaid,lookingatherschedule.