Training in Love by Manuela Pigna

Author:Manuela Pigna [Pigna, Manuela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01416X4RY
Published: 2015-08-28T23:00:00+00:00

13.

“Where are we?” Andrea asks me when we park in front of a very stately building in the center of town.

“You’ll find out in a minute,” I say with a giggle. He huffs.

The workout today went well, even if we hardly spoke at all. Yesterday evening was a little embarrassing. When he asked me what was the program for today, I told him to meet me in front of the cafè around six-thirty. I don’t want to give him the minimum chance of escaping today either. For this reason we’re going with my car.

Before the small wooden door with an antique air about it, I ring the doorbell and we wait.

“Are we in your car tomorrow?” He asks me in a colorless voice. “Because if we’re in your car, I’ll start preparing myself psychologically starting now.”

I laugh. “Tomorrow we’re in Nic’s car.”

He jerks around at me, surprised. He parts his lips to say something, but the little door opens and we climb the stairs to the first floor where a heavy, black door opens almost simultaneously and the smiling face of Madame Barbieri appears.

“Madame Barbieri!” Exclaims Andrea with surprise.

We go in. Madame Barbieri and I exchange a conspiratorial smile and greet each other silently.

“Hello Apollo dear, the dinner is already ready, come in.”

Andrea looks at the time. It’s not even six-thirty. “Tell me we’re not going to have dinner now…” He whispers in my ear while we follow Madame Barbieri down a long corridor which leads to a living room of ample dimensions with a gigantic fireplace (not lit obviously) and very classic furnishings. On the side of the room opposite the fireplace is a table already set for three.

“Madame Barbieri has dinner early, she told me in advance.”

“Olly…” And his tone contains a really bizarre note – it would seem to be a warning.

He doesn’t have time to say anything else about this, because our hostess turns around and makes a motion for us to sit down. “I asked Rita to help me with the dinner, then I gave her the evening off.”

Rita, who I imagine isn’t really called Rita, is her Ukrainian pseudo-caregiver. Even if Madame Barbieri doesn’t need a caregiver, she explained that she likes to have someone in the house who helps with the housework, a task which, day by day, is more arduous for her, and who, quite simply, keeps her a little company.

“Rita won’t eat with us?” I ask because the table is set for three.

“Oh no, she says she can’t manage eating this early.”

“Yeah, what weird people…” Mutters Andrea darkly.

We sit down right away and Rita loses no time. She begins immediately to arrive with plates, like a real maid who serves course after course. Madame Barbieri has done things up in style and has prepared two starters, two pasta dishes, a second course, fruit, two kinds of dessert, coffee and an after dinner liquor.

And if she permits me to eat only what I wish to, that is, a quarter of all that

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