65

Francesca

Vincenzo's wrinkled, tanned face lit up when he saw me. —Signorina! I wondered if you would join us. — The winemaker looked over my shoulder and lowered his chin respectfully. — Signore Ravazzani. You honor us with your presence.

Fausto came forward, shook the winegrower's hand and spoke softly. The people around us laughed, smiling at him, and I tried not to look as annoyed as I felt. What, would they kiss your ring next?

A woman appeared next to me. She was a little younger than Faust, with a long braid of dark hair tucked under a sun hat. His brown eyes were kind, his smile patient. — Is this your first time?

I shook my head. — I am a virgin of Vendemmia.

The woman laughed. —That sounds like a T-shirt. — His expression became serious. — I've wanted to meet you for a long time. I am Emilia, Vincenzo's daughter.

- Hello! He told me everything about you. — Vincenzo often boasted about his daughter, the accountant who had gone to university in London. — I'm Frankie.

— I know