The Italian Inheritance (2 page)

“
Er
, no. I’m not.” He was looking at her strangely. She didn’t blame him. She would also be curious if a stranger appeared out of the blue looking for someone she’d never heard of at her address.

“He doesn’t live here, by any chance, does he?” she asked, trying to peer round him into the property.

The man shifted his position to block her view. “No, he does not.”

Anna suddenly felt foolish. “Sorry,” she said with a nervous laugh. “It’s just that I’m desperately looking for this man, Giovanni Albertosi, and I was told to come to this address.”

“Really?” The man’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Who told you to come here?”

“The
m
anager
at the Bella Vista hotel
.” Anna fiddled in her handbag and retrieved the slip of paper. She handed it to him. “When I asked if he knew Giovanni,
he gave me this.”

The man glanced down at the piece of paper
,
but didn’t take it. “Yes, that is this address, but there is no one here by that name.”

Anna frowned, puzzled. “I wonder why he thought I’d find him here.”

The man didn’t answer.

“
H
e seemed so sure,” Anna said almost to herself. “I can’t understand it.”

“
He
must have been mistaken,” suggested the man indifferently.

Anna nodded slowly. It was possible the
manager
had got
ten
it wrong. The language barrier was a problem.
She spoke no Italian while the
manager’s
English was stilted at best.
Anna tried to think logically. Perhaps Giovanni had
lived here
years ago, when he met her mother. Twenty-
six
years was a long time. This man wouldn’t have been around then
.

“Why
are you looking for
him?”

The question caught Anna by surprise. For a moment she didn’t know how to
answer
. She couldn’t explain her predicament to a complete stranger.

“It
... It
’s personal,” she
stammered
. “I’d rather not discuss it.” It was certainly none of his businesses, whoever he was.

“I see.”

He almost sounded offended. Anna
shrugged
apologetically. Then she tried a different angle. “You wouldn’t know if the previous owner was a Giovanni Albertosi, would you?” It was worth a shot.

“This house has been in my family for generations,” the man replied. Anna stared at him in dismay.

“Really?” That ruled out the previous owner theory.
This was lo
oking more and more like a dead-
end.

He nodded firmly.
“Yes, it has never changed hands
as far as I know
.”

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

Back to square one
.

The man raised his eyebrows,
“
Is that all?
”

“Yes, I’m sorry t
o have bothered you,” she said wearily
. “You’re right. There must
be
some mistake.”
The guy
at the hotel
had obviously got
ten
it wrong or misunderstood her.

“No problem.”

Anna should have known it was too good to be true. To come this far and expect her father’s whereabouts to fall directly into her lap on day one was wishful thinking. It had been foolish to expect it.

Tomorrow morning she’d visit the attorney’s office as originally planned. This was the office to which her mother’s letter had been addressed and the only definite clue she had to her father’s whereabouts. Hopefully they would be able to
help her. If not, she had no idea what she was going to do
.

She couldn’t go chasing all over Italy looking for
a man who didn’t know she existed
. As it was her meagre budget would barely stretch to a week on the island. As much as she adored her job, maternity nurses didn’t get paid
a lot
and she’d already charged the hotel deposit to her credit card.
A cardinal sin as far as she was concerned. Usually
so
financially
aware
, she’d already
spent
a bundle on this impromptu trip.

That was another thing. She only had two weeks leave, at the most. Patrick in HR had pulled some serious strings to get
this
approved. She didn’t want to mess him a
round
more than she could help it.
A double-
shot toffee-nut latte was coming his way when she got back to London.

As the nervous tension that had been building
throughout
the day
dissipated
, Anna felt like collapsing. Instead she smiled bravely, gave a little nod and pulled on her dark glasses, relieved she’d remembered to bring them.

With her head held high she walked back down the cobbled path to the main road, the teasing scent of bougainvillea wafting after her.  

The lawyer’s office was situated a few minutes’ walk from La Piazzetta, Capri’s central square, but due to the ramshackle layout and intertwined cobblestoned streets it took Anna the better part of half an hour to find it.

For her appointment, she’d dressed carefully in a floral wrap-around dress with strappy leather sandals and only a smattering of make-up. It never hurt to impress. She finally came to a stop outside a quaint side-walk restaurant which spilled onto a splendid veranda overlooking the street.

“
Signorina
, come and join us?” A table of men gestured frantically from the patio. Anna smiled politely and shook her head. She had no interest in frivolity right now. The only thought in her head was to find out why her mother had addressed her letter to this office, and what they could tell her about her father.

The restaurant was packed to capacity and the smell of herbed pizza wafted through the balmy midday air. Anna’s stomach grumbled and she realised her mistake at skipping breakfast. Stressed or not, she had to keep her energy levels up.

After the meeting with the attorney she’d stop for a cappuccino and a bite to eat. But first things first…

Where was the entrance?

Anna finally located a zigzagged staircase on the side of the building. She climbed the two flights to the door and as there was no railing, trailed her hand along the dimpled white-washed wall to keep her balance.
It felt dry and powdery beneath her fingers.

The plaque on the door said
,
Attorney: Rafael Vialli.

Well, Mr. Vialli
,
thought Anna
as she brushed the dust off her hands
,
I really hope you can help me.

Entering the office, Anna was surprised to find it
was light and airy and much bigger than it looked from the outside. A pretty receptionist
in a crisp
,
white shirt with glossy black hair and a sulky pout
sat behind
the front
desk reading a magazine. She looked up as Anna entered.

“I’m here to see Mr. Vialli,” said Anna. “I have an appointment. Sorry
,
I’m a few minutes late. I got lost.
It’s like a maze out there.
” She smiled at the girl who
studied her curiously
.
Perhaps she didn’t speak English.

“
Signore
Vialli?” Anna raised her eyebrows.

“Si.
Signore
Vialli
is here.
”
The girl
got up from behind the desk. “
One moment, please.”
Her
English was accented, but
perfectly clear
.

Anna watched her saunter
to an interleading office doo
r
, knock and open it without waiting for a reply. She wore a
tight pencil skirt
, which looked great on her curvy figure,
paired with
high heels
. She
p
oked her head around
the door
, said something in Italian,
nodded,
then returned to
her
desk.

“Yes?”
prompted Anna about to burst with anticipation. All her hopes were pinned on this man, this
Signore
Vialli.
She was dying to see him. Needed to find out what he knew about her father, if anything.

“You can go in now,” motioned the receptionist, leaning forward to arrange some papers lying on the desk.

Anna exhaled.
Yes!

She marched to the interleading door, scarcely able to contain her excitement. It opened easily and within seconds she was in an elegant, spacious office. The man behind the desk stood up to greet her.

“You!”
Anna
gasped in surprise. “But you... I thought...” Confusion clouded her brain. What was
he
doing here? He’d turned her away from Villa San Rosanna yesterday. He didn’t know
anything about
Giovanni Albertosi. Or did he?

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend what was going on.

The man appeared unaffected.

“
Signorina
,” he said in a pleasant voice. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to a big leather chair positioned on the opposite side of his desk.

In
a trance, Anna sank into the soft leather and stared at him.
He looked far more professional today than he had last night. Gone were the casual denims and T-shirt, replaced by a smart, steel-grey suit and black shirt that hinted at his authority.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she began hesitantly. “Yesterday you said you didn’t know Giovanni Albertosi
and today..
.
?” Her voice faded out.

The lawyer
put the tips of his fingers together and studied her contemplatively. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he suggested.
His tone was not unfriendly.
“What is your name?”

“Anna Crawford,” she replied quickly. “I made an appointment a few days ago, from London. I’m looking fo
r...”

“And how are you related to
Signore
Albertosi?”

Anna stared at him in astonishment. “How did you know I was related to him? I didn’t say that.” She searched his face but his expression was neutral, only the eyes regarded her warily.

“Aren’t you?” he enquired politely. 

Anna didn’t see how that was any of his business. Who was he in relation to Giovanni? He could be anyone. She didn’t know him from a bar of soap. So she ignored his question and instead asked, “So you do know Giovanni
?
Why did you lie to me yesterday?”

“It’s complicated,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was a black leather director’
s chair on a swivel base. His long legs stretched right under the desk. “
Signore
Albertosi is a very important man. In the interests of his privacy I had to turn you away.”

“Surely that is for Mr. Albertosi to decide?” Who was he to dictate who her father should and shouldn’t see?

His dark eyes narrowed. “Actually, in this case it is my decision. I represent
Signore
Albertosi. I am his attorney.”

A
ttorney!
That means he knows where
Giovanni
is.

“I understand that,” began Anna, trying her best to be diplomatic. “And clearly Mr. Albertosi has a lot of faith in your... discretion
. B
ut with respect, you don’t even know what my case is. How do you know Mr. Albertosi doesn’t want to see me?”

The laptop whirred quietly as Vialli stared at her contemplatively. He pursed his lips a couple of times, as if trying to make a decision. Finally he took a deep breath and opened a draw, pulling out a notepad.

“Your full name again
,
please?” he asked, as if the previous conversation had not taken place. Anna blinked. “I’ve just given you my name.”

“For the record.”

Anna gritted her teeth. “Anna Maria Crawford. Look, I really don’t understand...”

“Address?”

Anna frowned at the interruption. “I don’t understand what this has to do with anything?”