Family secrets, legacies, and the power of forgiveness – a new story by the author of The Invisibles, again set on the beautiful Italian coast.
Sisters Elinor and Saffron rarely see eye-to-eye, but they agree that locating an unknown half-brother can only spell trouble in their lives. The Greene sisters gather in their cottage in Lerici, Italy to support their ailing mother, Betsy. But they don’t want her to search for Baby Boy, the only name for their lost sibling on faded adoption papers.
While the Greenes debate, Baby Boy finds them. A rough childhood has led Daniel to becoming a thief. When he finds out he’s connected to a wealthy family, he decides to scam them and get his share. He goes to Italy and uses a fake identity to get close to them. Watching the Greenes makes Daniel ache for what he never had—a loving, supportive family. But Daniel’s shady past is catching up and putting them all at risk.
Family secrets, legacies, and the power of forgiveness – a new story by the author of The Invisibles, again set on the beautiful Italian coast.
Sisters Elinor and Saffron rarely see eye-to-eye, but they agree that locating an unknown half-brother can only spell trouble in their lives. The Greene sisters gather in their cottage in Lerici, Italy to support their ailing mother, Betsy. But they don’t want her to search for Baby Boy, the only name for their lost sibling on faded adoption papers.
While the Greenes debate, Baby Boy finds them. A rough childhood has led Daniel to becoming a thief. When he finds out he’s connected to a wealthy family, he decides to scam them and get his share. He goes to Italy and uses a fake identity to get close to them. Watching the Greenes makes Daniel ache for what he never had—a loving, supportive family. But Daniel’s shady past is catching up and putting them all at risk.
April in Lerici was blossoming like paradise. Elinor knelt over her tomato plants pulling weeds. She loved gardening in this place on a fine, cool morning. Whenever she had troubles, she turned to her plants, and today she had a basketful of troubles. Bushels and bushels, and they all revolved around her mother. Betsy said she was ailing, but she was being vague about the specifics. And she’d written Elinor to say she was searching for their missing family member, Baby Boy, as he was listed on the adoption papers they’d discovered in an old drawer. Best left at the back of that drawer, Elinor thought. An unknown quantity could only be another basketful of problems.
She dug harder to loosen the weeds. Her plants had to have room to breathe, though soon Elinor wouldn’t have much. Because Betsy was coming here to stay with them, bringing her larger-than-life personality and who knew what else in her huge tapestry purse.
Elinor bent closer to her plants, her babies. Later this summer they’d be ready for Lerici’s farmer’s market. Italy was renowned for the quality of its tomatoes. In this fine, sandy soil, they grew bigger and more flavorful than elsewhere, and in a few months, hers would be a hit, laid out on her market table.
A sudden pain stabbed her. She sat up and put her hand on her abdomen, where her sister’s transplanted kidney filtered her blood. Nothing had hurt for months. Why should she have a pain now, two years after the surgery?
Getting to her feet, she stood looking out over the treetops to the sea. Years of practicing to calm the PTSD she’d had after the explosion that injured her, Elinor couldn't help picturing the worst—losing her life here in her lovely garden, before she could fully grab her amazing second chance at love.
Elinor reached under her shirt and smoothed her fingers over the scar. It didn’t hurt, but something inside did. Maybe she’d just bent forward too fast. Ever since the accident, lots of things startled her, pain most of all. But now it was ebbing, and now gone.
Crouching down, she wiped her forehead and knelt on the pad, feeling old, even though she was only forty-two. Elinor forced herself to weed more slowly, wondering if she’d always be impaired from the accident. Probably. But if she was old and limited, at least she and Tonio were old together. He was in his late fifties and the healthiest person she knew.
She lovingly tended her plants, the new tomato varieties she’d planted for Tonio’s recipes. Cuore di Bue, the plump ox heart tomato, made sauces rich. The date-sized datterini were delicious in fresh caprese salads. As in everything, in this she and Tonio were a good team. She grew the vegetables that he turned into delicious culinary art.
There was nothing wrong with her that the smell of this garden couldn’t fix. The pang must have been from the heat, or kneeling down too long. She wasn’t dying. She told herself, there was always today, and today was enough. Say the mantra three times, she reminded herself, the one Tonio had given her.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Fine except here was another stabbing twinge. Elinor jumped up and planted both hands on her stomach, did her deep breathing, and looked out to the ocean. That deep blue was the color of fine. Gentle spirits attended this coast, especially the spirit her sister said was looking out for them in the cottage the sisters had inherited from their father. Saffron could see him, the benign presence of a dead poet. Shelley, to be exact, the 19th century poet who had once lived on this coastline she and Tonio called home. Her father, who had been Shelley’s biggest scholar, had probably chosen this place because of the poet’s history.
The pain left again, but not the echoing memory of the explosion that had nearly put her into the spirit world, if such a thing really existed. Sudden and deafening chaos had bloomed around her in those seconds and then waking up to the whoosh of conditioned air and pale green walls, wondering if she was dead. Was this what her sister liked to call The Other Room? The dwelling place of her sister’s Invisibles, spirits who lingered.
Elinor recalled how Saffron came into the room. Smiling, colorful, and vivid, she was so very much alive, and that meant Elinor was too. Their mother, Betsy, followed.
“Am I still alive?” Elinor whispered.
Her mother and sister seized her hands. “You’re alive, and I’m alive, and our shared kidney is keeping you that way. We’re better than blood sisters,” Saffron gushed, tears falling. Always such an emotional girl.
Her mother was, for once, speechless, until she finally could say, “Oh, Elinor. Darling. Elinor. You’re here.”
Then had come the months of recovery. They said she was brave, but Elinor couldn’t own that. She just refused to die, and then she refused to live as an invalid. She was stubborn. It had taken hours and months of lying around on the patio and the couch as she slowly regained strength. Elinor still flinched at every sudden noise or bright light. Anything unexpected brought her back to the explosion.
Now she stretched, face up to take in the whole blue sky. She massaged her stomach with its precious, gifted organ. “Thank you, my dear sister,” she said aloud, to the piece of Saffron that lived inside her.
Was the kidney trying to tell her something—a message about its failing or about the donor? It would be just like her psychic sister to communicate via a pain in the organ that had passed between them. Saffron was all about the hidden dimensions in life, her paranormal connections. Perhaps Elinor should call to see if all was well with Saffron and her family in London.
The pain disappeared again. She eased down onto the knee pad and picked up the trowel, wanting to finish planting the seedlings. She couldn’t let every twinge upset her. If she did, she’d spend hours in the emergency room, getting checked out, even admitted, and all because of panicking over a slight sensation. Six weeks from her wedding, she couldn’t panic. The whole family was planning to come for a ceremony on the patio. Saffron and her husband Michael, with their toddler Percy, would cram into the larger guest room. Her sister would bring a whirl of intensity and drama, and little Percy would be his usual playful engine of destruction, running around knocking objects off tables.
And of course, Mom would occupy the smaller guest room upstairs. She’d require even more attention than the toddler. Right now, Elinor didn’t have the patience for any of them, but she’d find it. They’d only be here a few days, and then she and Tonio could go on their honeymoon, and after that, a return to Lerici and the peace of her garden.
This wedding had to go forward. No more mishaps in love! Her new life, the one beyond divorce, inheritance, and explosions, would start now. At age forty-two, she never expected to be reborn and find a wonderful partner. She and Tonio just had to have their happy-ever-after. He was so much more than she deserved. After nearly dying, she’d learned to focus on life’s good things and not its disasters. Maybe they should elope.
Tonio. She chanted the syllables under her breath and let them melt into her heart, sweet as softened caramel on the tongue. The Italian sun, at its height on this May day, softened her as well. She sat back on her heels, put down the trowel, and took off her straw hat to wipe away sweat rolling down the sides of her cheeks. Maybe it was too hot today to keep working. The last two years of recuperation had taught her to take things slow.
Elinor stored her trowel, gloves, and digging tool in the garden shed at the far end of the garden and went up to the patio. Stretching out on a chaise, she thought of making lemonade for Tonio when he returned from shopping. They could enjoy the shade, trees arching overhead. Look at this view—how could she not feel fine? She was poised on the brink of every happiness.
Yet she still harbored broken places. Another jolt had arrived this morning, in the form of an email from Mom. As she relaxed on the chaise, she picked up her phone and reread the note. She shivered, putting the phone face down again. Mom’s messages were always dramatic, alarming, or frustrating, or all three. Having Betsy Greene as a mother was like navigating a downhill slalom course: breathtaking twists and breakneck speed.
Cancer. What a word to begin with. Betsy loved to make her daughter feel guilty. Elinor knew she should invite Mom to come and stay with them when Betsy first mentioned having a test. Now the diagnosis was definite, she had to tell her to come. After her mother’s care during all those long months after the transplant surgery, she owed it to her. But she was busy being in love. Must her mother really interrupt the best time of Elinor’s life?
Well, apparently, yes.
Elinor reminded herself of her healing path: breathe deep and meditate on the beauty of this coastline. Diminish the stress with Lerici’s clear air and tranquil life. Be calm, be grateful. Accept what comes.
She focused on the mounding white and pink clouds and the sea’s tossing sapphires. It was like an illustration from a book of fairytales, a place you’d set a castle—and Lerici did have a castle—with a princess having her happy-ever-after. Inheriting this beautiful place was proof that good things could happen to people. Even to her.
She heard the front door close. Tonio was home and taking his groceries into the kitchen. She’d suggest lemonade and then a walk down to the promenade to sit on the sea wall and watch pelicans strut on the beach, small, dark and stout. She’d wait until they were there to tell him about Mom’s diagnosis and ask what they should do. Since Tonio had worked in nearby hospitals, he knew everyone. Of course, he’d say to bring Betsy here for the superior Italian healthcare he was so proud of.
Elinor picked up the phone and read her mother’s message again. She had to be able to tell Tonio exactly what it said, and now she was struck with what it hadn’t said.
Cancer. Mom began her note with the one word, a world-changing word. No how’s your recovery and are you regaining your energy? I hope you’ve been continuing your to heal. I hate to tell you this …
No. Betsy Greene was more like her natural drama—Cancer!@#!!!!*!!!
She could picture Mom saying it, pacing back and forth in the tiny living room of their brown shingle house in the Berkeley hills. Wearing out the dilapidated Persian carpet with her anxiety. Fussing without settling on a solution or a plan, a dramatic monologue training behind her sandal-shod, shuffling feet and Betsy’s wild gray curls like electricity around her face.
It’s definitely cancer, but an early stage. Chemo and radiation, probably. They say I can travel. Italian health care is better. I remember, from when you had your transplant. I might want to find alternative cancer treatment. They have good ones in Europe.
Her mother would come all the way from California to settle into their house, and they’d help find the best treatment for her. Elinor felt her job was to do her part to keep her family well and stable. They had done everything when she needed it—Saffron even donated her organ to keep Elinor alive. This time, she had to be the pillar of strength for Mom, but now it was such a relief to think, I’ll ask Tonio what to do.
“Ciao, bambina!” Tonio’s velvety baritone soothed her as he came out to the patio. The sound of his voice never failed to make her pulse race. His head was bent, carrying a small bag of groceries, as he brushed a quick kiss on her lips. She glanced up, his face close, brown eyes sparkling over a wide smile.
“Ciao, darling!” Elinor tried to catch her breath. This breathless feeling still happened every time they kissed.
Tonio set down the bag on the flagstones and sat in the chair beside her.
“Red and green peppers, kale, porcini mushrooms, and beautiful lagoon artichokes.” His Italian accent made the produce items sound thrillingly suggestive. Tonio could make the question Would you like an espresso seem like an invitation to join him in bed.
Looking inside the fabric bag, he continued on to propose a menu. “Asiago chicken sausage. I thought I would make chicken cacciatore, my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Yum! You spoil me, mio caro. Che fortuna ho.” How lucky am I.
“Your pronunciation is improving. I like your new lilt.”
Elinor laughed. “I’m mimicking you, what you said last night. Very late last night.”
With a wicked grin, he leaned forward and pinched her thigh. “Ricordo bene.”
He remembered it well. So did she. Suddenly, the sunlight gleaming through the trees, her lover’s nearness melting away any problems. What had she to worry about with Tonio by her side?
She handed the phone to him. “Here. You can help me decode Mom’s cryptic message.”
He took the phone and read. “Cancer. Italy has the best treatment.” He handed the phone back. “She’s right to come.”
Elinor shook her head. ”But our wedding?”
“We will marry when we wish. After all, Betsy would have wanted to be here for it, and now she will.”
His smile and his delicious accent and deep voice warmed Elinor’s core. Tonio knew the healthcare system in Italy. He’d worked in it. “You think?”
He got up and came over. Pushing her legs to the side, he sat on the chaise facing her and took her hand. He kissed it—ah, the Italians.
“Even if we must elope, we’re getting married. If I had my wish, it would be tomorrow.”
He kissed her hand again, turned it over and put his soft lips on her palm. Elinor melted and forgot she had a mother with a deadly disease. A sister with Invisibles. Anyone but Tonio with soft lips.
“Elope? After we’ve gone through all the baffling Italian paperwork? Having it all translated into Italian! It will be such a pretty wedding here, on the patio, like Saffron’s wedding.”
He looked at her. “Wedding plans can change, Cara. We can be married anywhere—even go to Denmark and do it in two days. We’re not children. What matters is our life together.”
“But so many things can happen!” She remembered that awful awakening after the explosion. So. Many. Things.
He kissed her hand again and his lips traced up the inside of her arm. “Love does not break because of a crisis. It bends, like the roads up our coastal mountains.”
His kiss was advancing, traveling the inside of her arm, very sensitive places. Her head fell back, and her eyes closed, as the kiss leaped from her arm to her neck. She forgot all about an email.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. We’ll get married in Denmark. And then my mother can come and live or die.”
His throaty laugh surprised her. “She will not die. Our medicine is much better than yours in America. We will have to find out what type of cancer and what stage. We will find her the best care.” He swiveled around to lean his upper body fully on hers and land his kisses where it counted.
Beneath them, the chaise longue creaked.
“Tonio—” It lurched downward. “Get up!” she breathed a laugh into his kiss. “We’re breaking this thing.”
He sat up. The phone pinged. She grabbed it, seeing a text. “Oh no. Mom’s decided to come sooner.”
“For the wedding?” Tonio looked happy. He liked Betsy, probably because he’d always had a way of handling her. Charming smile, warm hugs, and that lilting Italian accent while being fluent in English. Not to mention his awe-inspiring Italian cooking. Elinor once again felt a flush of relief. Whenever Mom was about to drive her over the edge with opinions and demands, Tonio would referee.
That protective caring was how their relationship began, with Tonio being her advocate while she was still in the hospital, and later helping her recover as a kind neighbor who had become much more. Her live-in lover, and now her fiancé.
“Mom’s coming next Friday.” Elinor said as she reclined on the tilted chaise, staring up into the branches. “Will you cook her something really nice when she gets here?”
Tonio stood. She looked up into his soft gaze and knew he understood her anxiety.
“I will cook, yes. Of course. We will cope together.”
She reached for his hand, and he quickly clasped hers. “You’ll be on the front line with her whenever I have to rest?”
Tonio’s smile grew mischievous, one side of his mouth lifting higher, as if he enjoyed a private joke. “Do you know how much I love to watch you rest and sleep? I live to watch your mouth falling open when you sleep on your side. And just a bit of moisture …”
She let go of his hand and boffed his arm. “I do not look like that!”
He laughed. “Cara, I’ll take care of Betsy. We’ll do this together, as I promised. It’s what marriage is for, isn’t it?”
“But I’m useless! I don’t have the strength I used to, and Mom can be like an eel, sucking up all the energy. Speaking of naps, I need one now. I’m full of gardening aches.” She didn’t mention the twinge in her stomach.
“I’ll go into the kitchen and see about making you something to eat, after you rest.”
“Oh, I was going to make you lemonade! But I’m so tired. Tonio, am I enough for you? You deserve better.”
He laughed again, and the throaty sound warmed all doubts away. “Your presence is enough. More than enough, my darling.”
He went inside. Elinor drifted off to sleep, listening to the kitchen sounds of Tonio in his favorite place. He had always been kind to Mom when she was here. Though he kept peace between them, he seemed to only see the pleasant side of Betsy.
The return to Lerici tells the story of the Greene family, Betsy, Elinor, Tonio, Saffron, Daniel, and their guardian angel, the poet Shelley. The story focuses on Elinor and Tonio’s plan to get married, mom, Betsy’s unconventional form of cancer treatment, and the search for a lost child. Betsy is determined to seek out her late husband’s secret son, known as ‘Baby Boy’, a son given up for adoption due to an affair.
This is a follow-up story to the first book, The Invisibles, but it can be read alone and is so exquisitely written that it makes me want to read the first book too. This is a hopeful and heartwarming tale about families, who they can become despite the past, unconditional love, giving without guarantees, and survival.
Each character within the book has a unique perspective within this story, which adds to the whole, deepening and enriching the overall narrative. Elinor, a PTSD survivor, feels fearful and afraid; Betsy believes in helping vulnerable people; Saffron relies on her intuitive insights; Tonio relies on compassion; and Daniel is blinded by self-doubt.
The imagery within the novel takes the reader into a home in Italy, with its sumptuous food, abundant vegetable garden, and quirky characters. The characters embark on a journey that brings family together and deepens their awareness that people can always change and that we are governed by the choices we make right until the very end.
This book makes a charming weekend read and would suit readers interested in exploring the value of a simple cottage-core type of life, where family gathers together to share good food and wine, and the planting, cooking, and displaying of tomatoes adds richness. This is a story as gentle as the early morning sun and as delicious as a plate of fresh sea bass. It's a book filled with warmth. I only hope there will be more.