Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (12 page)

The following morning, Sofia and Miriam had a quick
breakfast of cereal and coffee before driving to the Benedictine monastery
nearby.

The trip in Miriam’s Fiat took
half an hour. It was a sunny late spring day and Sofia, relaxed after a good
night’s sleep, was able to enjoy the beautiful landscape. The dark-green
meadows took turns with fields of colorful flowers. They passed a few vineyards
where the vintners were busy checking and cleaning the vines.

She thought of her vineyard in
Vignaverde, her sister Julietta, and the Italian family, working in the fields
as were Nicholas and her American family. She missed them. She hadn’t been able
to talk much with her sister or the Santuccis, and she began to feel guilty for
abandoning them. Perhaps after her search for Angelo was over, she could extend
her stay for a week to make up for her absence. She yearned to be with
Julietta. Fortunately, Julietta would be with her in the fall. Sofia was
looking forward to having her sister with her on a more permanent basis.

Sofia, still nervous about being
followed, turned around and glanced back, but to her relief, there was no blue
Honda anywhere. They came to the sign for the monastery and drove up the hill.

After parking the car, they walked
toward the open gate of the monastery. Two monks stepped outside. One of them
pointed a key at one of the few cars in the parking lot. The unlock mechanism
made a quick beeping sound. Sofia was surprised to see monks drive what looked
like a decent car. She had imagined they would walk, use a bicycle, or drive an
old battered car. Then again, her education on priests and monks came from TV
shows such as Father Brown, which she occasionally watched.

“Let’s ask them,” Miriam said and
waved at the two men. One of them was young, tall, and clean-shaven and the
older one had a bushy black-and-gray beard. Both were clothed in the
traditional long black habit. Miriam greeted them in Italian and asked if they
could speak to the abbot. The two men glanced at each other, then at the women.
The older one smiled and told them that this was a monastery—for men.

“I know that,” Miriam said,
laughing. “I don’t want to join. We are looking for a male relative who might
have joined the order.”

The monks gave them directions to
where they would find the abbot, then nodded goodbye and left. Sofia and Miriam
entered through the portal of the abbey, which led into a courtyard with a
three-span portico. On the right side was a chapel and a small room that looked
like a foyer. A monk sat at a desk, reading something. He looked up startled
when they entered, then greeted them politely.

Miriam explained the reason for
being here. Sofia was glad she didn’t have to use her faulty Italian. The monk
picked up the phone and pressed a button, then talked to someone, presumably
the abbot. He put down the receiver and told them that the abbot would be able
to talk to them in about half an hour. He would meet them in the courtyard.

Sofia and Miriam walked around the
part of the abbey that was open to visitors. There was a small chapel with
natural stone walls and a slate tile roof. The inside was modest but lovingly
decorated with a few paintings and frescoes, one of them showing Saint
Benedict. A couple of monks sat in the pews, praying silently. The sun shining
through the windows lit up the small altar with a simple cross and a black
leather-bound book, most likely a prayer book. The slightly musty scent, mixed
with incense, added to the peaceful, spiritual atmosphere that permeated the
room. After sitting quietly in one of the pews for a while, Sofia and Miriam
got up and left.

As they stepped outside, a monk, dressed
in the traditional black robe and wearing a cross on a chain, was waiting in
front of the chapel.

“I think it’s the abbot,” Miriam
whispered. They walked up to him. “
Padre Abate
?” Miriam asked.

“
Si
,” the man said with a
smile. He was slightly taller than Sofia, had broad shoulders and as far as she
could tell a substantial body, though it was covered by his black robe. What
struck her most, however, were his deep brown eyes in his round face that
measured them with an intense but kind expression.

“Do you speak English?” Miriam
asked, most likely for Sofia’s benefit.

He smiled again. “A little,” he
said. “How can I help you?” He spoke with a heavy accent.

Sofia told him her usual story,
that she was looking for her great-uncle with whom the family had lost touch
years ago and that there were indications he might have joined a Benedictine
monastery.

The abbot listened attentively,
his face kind but serious. He asked them to follow him and led them to the
foyer at the entrance where they had been before. The monk guarding the
entrance greeted them respectfully. The abbot said a few words to him Sofia
didn’t understand. She and Miriam followed the abbot to the next room, which
looked like an office with a desk and a couple of chairs. The abbot sat behind
a desk and motioned Sofia and Miriam to sit in the chairs opposite him. Sofia
glanced at the small and almost bare office—it was empty aside from the desk,
chairs, and a filing cabinet. There were no pictures or any decorations on the
walls. This couldn’t be the abbot’s regular office, could it? Surely, he had something
a little more elegant. After all he was the abbot. Then again, this was
monastic life.

When they were seated, the abbot
looked at Sofia. “Why is your great-uncle not in touch with you?”

“It’s a long story,” Sofia said.
She had been prepared for questions and decided to be honest but not give away
everything. While she talked, the abbot gave her his full attention.

After she stopped, the abbot
nodded briefly, looked down at his large hands, folded together on his desk,
then lifted his eyes.

“I have a photo of him,” Sofia
said. She showed him a picture, not the one she had brought with her from
California, but a more recent one Miriam had taken of him.

The abbot studied the photo. “You
said Danilo Pedrotti is his name?”

Sofia and Miriam glanced at each other,
then Sofia nodded, hoping this was the name he would have used in the
monastery. There was something in the abbot’s eyes, however, a mixture of
kindness, strength, and warning, yes warning.
No use lying to me
, they
seemed to say.

“That’s the name he goes by in
Italy, it seems,” she said. “His real name is Angelo Segantino.”

The abbot didn’t act surprised or
shocked. “
Bene,
” he said, then faced Sofia and Miriam. “Angelo made a
confession.” He didn’t explain what the confession consisted of.

Sofia’s heart pounded in her
chest. Joy flooded her. “So you know him?”

“He is an oblate of the
Benedictine order,” the abbot said. Seeing the clueless expression on her face,
he explained. “He is a lay monk. He does not live in the monastery but he
attends prayers and mass. He is supposed to live in the spirit of St.
Benedict.”

“Do you know where he is?” Sofia
asked.

“He works in a town about two
hours from here, in Rivalta. He also works with youngsters who are troubled. He
teaches them sports among other things, soccer mainly.”

“Does he live there as well?”
Miriam asked.

“I cannot give you his address
without consulting with him first. It is a privacy matter. I am sorry.” He
lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “But if you tell me where I can
contact you, I will let him know that his family is looking for him. He can get
in touch with you.”

Sofia was disappointed. She had
come so close to finding him. What if he didn’t want to get in touch with the
family? She took a deep breath. “It’s very important that he contacts me or
Miriam. We need to find him. The police in the United States are looking for
him. He may be a witness in a murder investigation.”

The abbot looked at her startled.
This was obviously news to him. “I shall talk to him. I shall let him know his
family is looking for him, and I shall make sure he contacts you. We cannot
have something like this unresolved.”

Sofia took a deep breath. “Thank
you.”

Miriam gave the abbot her address
and phone number. They shook hands with the abbot who accompanied them to the
gate. Miriam and Sofia got into their car and drove away. When Sofia looked
back, she saw the abbot still standing at the gate, a figure in black, guarding
the walls of the abbey, this place of peace and tranquility.

Sofia, however, felt less than
tranquil and Miriam seemed to be excited as well. “Dan … Angelo, a monk, at
least a lay monk. So he went through with it.” After a short pause. “Well, then
again, in a way it makes sense. He was trying to turn his life around and
perhaps religion and the monastery have helped him.”

Sofia nodded. “I just hope he will
get in touch with us.”

“You know, I think I might know
where he lives,” Miriam said. Sofia looked at her surprised. Miriam’s eyes
showed a spark of excitement.

“When Angelo and I were dating, we used to go hiking a lot,”
Miriam said as she was driving back to Moretta. “One of our favorite hikes was
to a cottage near Rivalta where he now works. He mentioned several times that
he loved that cottage and would love to rent it. Perhaps he did. Why not find
out?”

“I’m all for it,” Sofia said.

“Let’s do it.” Miriam glanced at
her watch. “We should wait until tomorrow. It’s too late for today. We’ll drive
to Rivalta tomorrow morning, pack a picnic, and hike up to the cottage. It’s a
fairly easy hike of about an hour. The scenery is quite beautiful and if we
don’t find him, at least we’ll have a nice outing.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you think my
shoes are okay for it?” Sofia was wearing athletic shoes.

Miriam glanced at her feet. “They
should be fine. It’s uphill but not too steep.”

“Good, I need the exercise,” Sofia
said. “I haven’t done much walking on this trip.”

At Miriam’s, Sofia asked herself
if she should call Nicholas again and tell him about the latest developments.
Since Angelo was known to the monastery under his real name, she didn’t even
have to tell him about his false Italian name now. She glanced at the phone but
then decided to wait until tomorrow evening. Perhaps she would even be able to
give him the good news that she had met Angelo, that he was okay. If he was
okay. According to the abbot, Angelo was working with young people, helping
them. Whatever he had done in the past, he seemed to be on the right path now.
But what if his past was a life of crime? What if he had killed his friend?
Sofia had never quite believed it.

“What are you thinking about?”
Miriam asked. She had started to prepare dinner while Sofia was standing at the
window in the kitchen, staring outside.

Sofia shook her head. “Just
wondering what’s going to happen tomorrow.” She turned around. “Let me help
you, please.”

“You can set the table. The plates
and glasses are over there. She pointed at the kitchen cabinet. Sofia took out
plates, cutlery, and glasses and put them on the table. Miriam’s kitchen had a
small dining area, a nook with a table and two benches next to a window. Sofia
loved the small house. It was lovingly decorated with all kinds of handicrafts,
mainly from Italy. Some of the photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace
were from New York as Miriam explained.

They had a dinner of minestrone
and a mixed salad as well as a glass of red wine. After dinner, they relaxed
with dessert, a piece of homemade chocolate cake and a cup of espresso.

“You know I think you should put
your car in my garage,” Miriam suggested. “Get it off the street.”

“Good idea,” Sofia said. “If you
don’t mind. But what about your car?”

“It’s out in the driveway most of
the time anyway. I don’t bother putting it in the garage. I’ll move it, so you
can put yours inside.”

Outside, it was dark, and there
were just a couple of streetlights on Miriam’s street. Sofia walked the two
blocks to her car, nervously scanning the darkness. When she arrived at her
car, she exhaled deeply, realizing that she had held her breath. No blue Honda
or suspicious-looking person, thank God. She started the car, drove back and
parked it in the garage.

“I think the creep is gone,” Sofia
said. “At least I didn’t see anybody.”

They went to bed at ten o’clock,
wanting to get an early start the following day.

The next morning they got up while
it was still dark. After showering and a quick breakfast, they grabbed their
backpacks, each filled with a water bottle, sandwiches, fruit, and a
lightweight rain jacket in case the weather changed. They loaded the stuff into
Miriam’s car.

As they were driving away, Miriam
noticed Sofia turning around, staring back. “What’s the matter?” she asked and
glanced through her rearview mirror. At the crossing, she turned right toward
the main road leading toward Rivalta.

“Nothing, I think,” Sofia said. “I
just saw a car and thought it might be the blue Honda, but nobody seems to be
after us.”

“He must have left. Your car is
off the road. Whoever followed you probably thinks you’re gone.” Miriam glanced
once more at her rearview mirror.

“You’re probably right.” Sofia
said.

After about two hours, they saw
the sign for Rivalta. The town was small, mainly made up of houses with natural
stone walls, a church, a school, and a building that looked like it could be
the city hall. Miriam parked the car in the central parking lot.

“Let’s have some tea or coffee
before we begin the hike,” she said. “Mainly to use the restrooms. There won’t
be one for about an hour, or longer if Angelo is not there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sofia
motioned at a cafeteria with iron tables and chairs outside. They sat down. A
young waiter with tousled hair and sleepy eyes came to their table. He
suppressed a yawn and asked for their order. A few minutes later, he brought
their cappuccino and croissants.

After the snack and using the
restroom, they shouldered their backpacks and walked through the small town. At
the edge, a natural path led up the slope through a meadow toward the forest.
Before entering the woods, they turned back and admired the view of the town
and the mountains in the background. The woods were a mixture of dark and light
green trees. In the distance majestic mountains rose, the tops covered in snow.

“I didn’t even realize how
beautiful the Piedmont is.” Sofia said. “I’ve been concentrating so much on
Tuscany, which is gorgeous of course, but I’m discovering many other beautiful
places in Italy.”

“Oh, yes. I love Tuscany, too,”
Miriam agreed. “But I do prefer this somewhat wilder and less touristy
landscape here.”

“Oh, no, the blue Honda again,”
Sofia said.

“Where?” Miriam stared at the town
below.

“In the parking lot,” Sofia
whispered. “Let me see … about three cars to the left of ours.”

She talked in a normal tone again,
probably realizing that people that far away couldn’t hear her.

Miriam narrowed her eyes and
scanned the parking lot. She saw the blue car but couldn’t make out the brand.
“It is a blue car, but I don’t know if it’s a Honda. Could also be a Toyota or
… I don’t know, Sofia. Are you sure, it’s your Honda?”

Sofia shook her head. “No, I’m not
sure. I’m probably seeing ghosts. Even if it was a blue Honda, it could be a
different one.”

“That’s what I mean. There are
lots of blue Hondas around here. Besides, we are too far away. They can’t see
us. Let’s just go.”

Miriam went ahead and Sofia followed.
Before they entered the forest, Miriam looked back again. The car seemed to
still be there but she didn’t see anybody in the parking lot.

There weren’t any further scares
or surprises during the rest of the hike. They walked mainly in silence, enjoying
the beautiful landscape. Miriam thought back to the time she hiked up the hill
with Danilo. A feeling of nostalgia filled her. Would they find him? She knew
it was a shot in the dark. They knew he worked somewhere in Rivalta but he
could be living anywhere. It was probably wishful thinking on her part to find
him in his favorite cottage. She tried not to get discouraged.

After a few more turns and a last
hike up a steep hill, they stopped and looked back over the valley. Down below
was the village, tiny now. They sat on a flat granite plate at the side of the
path, sipping water.

“How would Angelo get back to town
from here?” Sofia asked.

“There’s a road leading up here.
It’s not very good, lots of potholes. I just thought the hike would be more
enjoyable.” Miriam gave a wistful smile. “Or I’m simply going down memory lane,
since this was our favorite outing.”

Sofia laughed and put her arm
around her. “It is a beautiful hike. I just hope we find out something.”

“We’re almost there.” Miriam
picked up her backpack and began to walk toward the last bend in the road. Once
they turned the corner, she stopped. “There it is.”

They admired the scenery around
them. “Now I know why you guys loved this place,” Sofia said.

The cottage, a stone house with
walls made of irregular and differently colored stones and with a stone roof,
stood next to two pine trees. Behind it was the forest. The house had a small
front yard with a vegetable garden. On one side of the cottage, a huge red
bougainvillea climbed and hugged the wall, covering half of the roof. An old,
somewhat battered car was parked next to the house underneath a birch tree.

“Somebody must live here,” Miriam
said. “But I don’t recognize the car.” Disappointment washed over her, but
didn’t drown all her hope. “He could’ve bought a different car,” she said.

“Well, let’s check it out.” Sofia
began to walk toward the gate.

“Wait.” Miriam grabbed her arm.
The door to the cottage had opened.