Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
"Yes." Father nods. "I have arranged for you both to stay here and if you so wish, to handle the distillery together. Adrian, you're still welcome to conduct art trades for us, of course, but I thought this would be a good way to bring in some extra money. And keep tradition alive, to make Marzia's nonna proud."
She shocks us both by approaching my father and wrapping him up in a tight hug.
Awkwardly, Father pats my wife's back.
Marzia shows us around the property herself.
I can tell she's delighted Father kept up with taking care of this place. The halls have been scrubbed, redone and redecorated. This place is perfect for a young couple like us, who is just looking to start over.
Once we've completed the tour of the grounds, Father asks us to sit down in what used to be Marzia's father's office.
If she's upset by being in the room, she doesn't show it. Absent-mindedly, my wife rubs her swollen belly as she inspects the new furnishings of the office.
"I would like you to keep working on the distillery," Father says once we all sit down. "There's no reason to stop now, as everything is fully operational and I've ensured it's up to your standards, Marzia."
"Thank you." She nods. "Are there any workers from the old distillery still around?"
"Yes, the village is full of them. Last I spoke to them, they seemed delighted to hear of your return." Father nods.
"And what about me?" I ask out loud. "I am a Bernardi after all. We are responsible for everything that happened here. Do they hold it against us?"
"No." Father shakes his head. "It seems relationships with the Da Costa family and the villagers have been… ah, strained for a long time. Did you know about this, Marzia?"
My wife nods. "Father didn't like the villagers. He called them commoners. I won't make the same mistake."
"I have every confidence you can turn the Da Costa grappa back into a profitable business," Father says.
"It's not the Da Costa grappa anymore." Marzia takes my hand and smiles up at me. "It's the Da Costa Bernardi grappa from now on. I'll work on getting all the labels changed."
Father doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's moved by her gesture.
I don't pretend to understand the relationship my wife has with my father, but I know it's complicated, layered, but not problematic. They seem to care about each other a great deal, perhaps even connecting on a level Father and I never connected on.
"There's something else," Father goes on, patting my hand. "Something I need to tell you. Something I've been hiding for a very long time. But I'm ready for the truth to come out now."
"What is it?" I'm instantly worried, brows shooting up as I try to meet Father's gaze.
He won't look at me. He stares out the window of the office, pondering his words for a long time before he speaks up.
"I tried to raise my children the same way I was raised," he begins. "Strictly but with the right amount of care. Perhaps that was my first mistake. I never got close with my sons, not one of them. And now that I'm an old man, I'm starting to regret that."
"It's not too late," Marzia whispers, patting his hand.
Father laughs bitterly. "Unfortunately, it will be too late very soon."
"What does that mean?" I furrow my brows, staring between the two of them. "Is there something I don't know?"
"I've been diagnosed with cancer," Father delivers the news flatly. "When I found out months ago, they told me it was untreatable. I have some time left, but no one really knows how long. Could be years or could be weeks. The cancer has spread so much there is no hope for my body. All those years of drinking and smoking have caught up with me. I'm... I'm dying, Adrian."
I swallow thickly, unable to handle the weight of his words. This can't be true. He's my father ‒ the only family I've ever known ‒ since my biological parents decided not to keep me. I don't cry, but I feel myself getting emotional at the sound of Father's words.
"There must be something we can do," I rush to say. "Doctors, programs, experimental drugs..."
"I don't want that," Father shakes his head vehemently. "I am blessed to have found out when I did. It gives me time to put my affairs in order before I have to die. And I've had a long, happy life. I've seen enough. Now I've seen my son happy with his woman. I just hope I get the chance to take care of your brothers before my life is taken away from me."
"Father—I..." I'm struggling for words, which rarely happens to me. I have no idea what to think of Father's news, how to react to the shocking truth that has rendered me utterly speechless.