All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 46

Even in scruffy jeans, work boots, and a plaid flannel shirt halfway buttoned up over a salmon t-shirt, he looked remarkably suave and put together. His strides were long and purposeful, and I was surprised to see a broad smile on his face. His eyes quickly scanned the group of women in greeting, but his focus stayed on me until he was right in front of me, giving me no choice but to bring my chair to a stop. Isa, bless her heart, stayed with me, hands still gripping the handles at my back.

"Ani! Mia passerota!" Cosimo put his gloved hands on both armrests, leaned down, and kissed my cheeks in greeting. Without straightening, he smiled beatifically, his eyes locked on mine. "I am so glad you have come to join us on this fine day."

Isa cleared her throat meaningfully and Cosimo shot her a quelling look over my head.

"I am deeply sorry for my bad behavior last night. It was only that I was very worried for your safety because of the late hour and I had no way to reach you. Will you forgive me?"

Clearly, Cosimo wasn't one to hold grudges. And clearly, too, Isa had already given him the what-for about his part in the whole event.

"Of course," I said, my tone careful.

"Come, ladies!" He straightened suddenly and skirted my chair to take over for Isa. "We need your help, your sharp eyes, and your quick fingers." His cheerfulness actually grated on my nerves a little. Cosimo, for all his polish and style, epitomized a human chameleon. One minute throwing a temper tantrum, the next charming and sweet, and then a moment later, amorous and sensual.

He parked my chair under the shade of a tree already picked clean before taking Margarite's basket from me. He set it in the front seat of the truck to keep the bugs from getting to the food before the humans had a chance. I watched as all around me the activity resumed, the women finding their places in the well-oiled machine. As soon as the men were finished raking the olives from one tree, a few women worked to wind up the nets beneath it, scooping all the fruit into one corner and dumping the whole pile onto a blue plastic tarp to be sorted through. Then they'd spread the net beneath another tree farther along the row ahead of the men and their electric rakes and return to help with sorting, slipping right back into the middle of whatever conversation was going on. I joined Isa on the ground in front of one of the piles of olives to be sorted. Margarite sat her bulk on a low stool across from us, and others settled in around us. Claudia sorted olives, too, but she often rose to help with nets, to speak encouragingly to the men, to converse with her husband over the quality and quantity of the fruit. I could tell they were both deeply invested in the process, and I was glad to be able to slip into the proceedings with hardly a glitch.

Isa showed me what to look for, clucking sadly over the ratio of olives we were throwing away compared to what we kept. The crates around the tarp filled incrementally as we worked, and I grew accustomed to spotting evidence of the larva-riddled fruit without having to break them open, and by noon, I no longer even made a face when I saw one of the little white worms.

The whole large group sat companionably together to share in the glories of Margarite's food basket. Ham and cheese on ciabatta rolls, grilled vegetables on wooden sticks, fresh-squeezed lemonade so sweet and refreshing one couldn't help but let out an "Aaah!" after the first sip. She topped off the lunch with a surprise, having sent one of the young men up to the house to fetch a cooler already packed and waiting in the kitchen; coconut gelato topped with honey-glazed pear spears. I was tickled to cross one more flavor off my list.

Cosimo sat across from me with several of the younger men during the meal, but when Margarite began dishing up the frosty treats, he stood and helped serve them all around, insisting Claudia stay sitting. When everyone had a dessert, he came and sat down on the ground beside me. I glanced across at Franco, who'd been busy all morning and had only greeted me with a simple "Buon giorno, Anica." He nodded warmly at me now and went back to the conversation he'd been having with Benito.