A Year at 32 September Way

A Year at 32 September Way

by
Mary
Ylisela

Copyright © 2012 by Mary
Ylisela

This b
ook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
Purchase only authorized editions.

Edited by Kathryn
Ritcheske

From the Author of:

Jumpstart Your Day: 101 Daily Motivations for Freelancers

Jumpstart Your Day: 40 and Forward

Dedication

To loved ones and friends who give me the courage to be an adventurer and make the road of life one worth traveling.

And to Bella Italia, my muse and my heart’s desire.

Acknowledgements

When you pick up a book, you really only see the author’s name, but there are so many behind-the-scenes people who help to make the words in the author’s head a reality on paper. Thank you to my family and friends who listened to my
story ideas with
enthusiasm
and
lent me
a
an
ear
when
I was stressed
. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Heartfelt thanks and appreciation go to my editor, Kathryn
Ritcheske
. Katie, you’re my right arm and my dear friend, and your unwavering belief in my work means more than words can say.

The characters portrayed in this book are not based upon real people.

Chapter 1

Carlisle read the email one last time while nervously nibbling the last bit of nail from her index finger. Her eyes deftly scanned the message for a sign that the decision she was about to make was t
he right one. As promised, Signor
Benedetto had sent her the email two days ago to confirm her apartment lease for one year starting in September. Since then it had sat unopened in her inbox while Carlisle hemmed and hawed about whether or not she should go. That is, until this morning. Moving to Italy for a year was a big step but she’d come to the realization that, at this point in her life, she had nothing left to lose.

Her eyes glanced over the body of the email once more in between si
ps of steaming hot coffee. Signor
Benedetto outlined the basics of the lease agreement in perfect English, unlike the garbled, hard-to-understand correspondences she’d received from other potential landlords. At the bottom of the email was the address of the apartment she’d live in:

Via
Settembre
32

Verona, Italia

Carlisle reached to the upper right hand corner of her desk without taking her eyes off the computer screen and felt the breeze from the small open window gently brush against her skin. It wasn’t raining this morning, unlike most mornings in Seattle, and she drank in the fresh, mossy air from the surrounding forest. She pulled the English-Italian dictionary out from beneath a stack of novels whose plots centered in Italy—all testaments to the adoration she felt for the country, even though she’d never actually been there. Her fingers moved deftly over the pages until she came to the Vs. “Via,” she repeated to herself, “means ‘way.’”

Again, she flipped through the dictionary to locate the words that started with “S.” “
Settembre
,
Settembre
…,” Carlisle murmured quietly with her best attempt at a roll of the “r.” “
Settembre
,” she found, was Italian for “September.”

In that moment, it was a done deal. Carlisle was born in the month of September, and her apartment in Italy was located at 32 September Way. In three months, she’d spend her 39th birthday in Italy. She’d found her sign. With a sigh of relief and a smile on her face, Carlisle typed a qui
ck note of confirmation to Signor
Benedetto, ending it with “I look forward to spending a year at Via
Settembre
32.” Suddenly, life was looking a little bit better.

As she reached over her desk to put the dictionary back in its place, Carlisle noticed the piece of worn paper sticking out from between the pages of another book. Knowing the words she’d find on it, her right hand remained suspended in mid-air between where she sat and the corner of the desk where the novel lay. After a moment’s hesitation, she gently slipped the folded piece of paper out from between the book’s pages and unfolded it. She needn’t have done so, as she already knew every word by heart. The creases had become a permanent part of the paper, and one edge showed the slightest bit of yellowing. Carlisle unfolded the paper and allowed her eyes to glance over the two words at the top of the page: “Accident Report.”

“I know what will happen next if I keep reading,” Carlisle thought out loud, “and I won’t go there. I can’t.” She gently folded the paper and replaced it between the pages of the book. Her
eyes focused on the tall, thick tree trunks standing like sentinels at the edge of her backyard, and Carlisle willed them to anchor her to the present. Physically shaking off the sadness she could feel welling up inside her, she stood up and pushed away from the desk. “There’s no time for this now; I’ve got a new life to get ready for. The past has got to let me go.”

***

It seemed like forever, but the wait had only been six months. Finally, it would come to an end today. When Nicolette awoke at 9am, she saw the long-awaited text from Josh, “Decision finally made.
Meeting at 1pm.
Will text or call u later.”

She took her cup of green tea out to the patio overlooking the vast courtyard that trailed off toward the valley and the mountains behind it. The terra-cotta tiles felt cool against her bare feet. As she went through her morning yoga routine, Nicolette allowed her mind to wander to Paris. Of the three locations Josh had mentioned as possibilities for the next film, Paris was number one on her list, with London and Dusseldorf trailing far behind. In fact, Nicolette was so smitten with the idea of living the Paris life with cafés, shopping and culture that she’d even begun taking an online course in French.

“The power of positive thinking,” Nicolette repeated as a mantra throughout her yoga routine. She sat in the Lotus position preparing to meditate, then closed her eyes and with every exhale whispered “Paris.”

Initially, she’d been very upset when Josh told her the studio would be relocating them for a year. Josh knew Nicolette wouldn’t be thrilled by the news, so he’d broken it gently over a bottle of rosé from nearby Napa Valley. “One year in Europe, sweetheart,” he’d said. “It’s only one year, and think of the adventure! You’ve always wanted to live in the city, surrounded by culture, hustle and bustle.
Now’s our chance to do just that in London, Paris or Dusseldorf.”

The next afternoon, Nicolette had swapped out her meditation session with some research time on the computer. She’d looked up information on the three cities Josh had mentioned as possibilities and quickly determined that none of them was exactly perfect. All three locations had more rain and gray weather in one season than northern California saw in a whole year. But at least Paris offered the benefits Nicolette sought in the city life. “Paris, it is!” she’d exclaimed to herself. And from that point on, she’d focused all her positive thoughts on life in Paris. Surely it would happen because almost everything went as she planned.
Maybe not living in the valley; that had definitely not been in her plans.
But almost everything else always went her way.

One o’clock came and went. Nicolette figured she’d receive Josh’s text message by 3pm, but it never arrived. At 5 she called his cellphone, listening to it ring endlessly with no answer. Finally, after 6, he walked through the front door. “I’ve been trying to reach you!” Nicolette huffed as she strode toward him. She leaned forward to kiss him. “Tell me now, when do we leave for Paris? It’s Paris, right? I just know it is!”

Nicolette watched her husband shift from one foot to the other while his black leather messenger bag swung from his right shoulder. He’d been preparing for her reaction the whole way home, knowing there would be no way to make things easier for
himself
. Finally, he just blurted it out. “There’s been a change of plans, and a different location has been chosen. We leave for Verona, Italy in September. An apartment has been arranged.”

Nicolette’s jaw dropped as she attempted to speak, but she couldn’t make a sound. Her small, delicate hands moved about as if they could encourage the words to come out. Instead, her jaw just opened and closed without a sound. Josh ran his left hand through his sandy blond hair. “Enjoy the moment while you can, buddy,” he thought, knowing that this was merely the calm before the storm.

***

At the age of 32, Charles felt old beyond his years. On more than one occasion he’d wondered when he’d ever have the chance to live life his own way. Lately, it seemed the thought never left his mind. He’d had a strict upbringing before being sent off to boarding school. While Charles was away at university, his father had arranged for him to begin an internship at one of London’s most prestigious banks. “You’ll be a fine banker, one day, my boy,” his father had told him his entire childhood. Any other career ideas were immediately dismissed, leaving Charles to feel like nothing more than a puppet on a string for his father, the puppeteer.

For twelve years, Charles had invested long hours into his work and had been rewarded by rapidly climbing the ranks of the London banking world. He was still one of the youngest executive bank managers in London and was well-respected within the business community. Being a banker hadn’t been all bad for Charles, even if it hadn’t been his first choice. He owned a beautifully appointed flat in one of London’s finer neighborhoods, a walk-in closet full of the finest designer suits and shoes, and a mahogany-paneled library filled from floor to ceiling with the books he adored.

Charles was the first to arrive to the bank every day and often the last to leave. Since there was no one waiting for him at home, he figured he might as well stay. If he were honest with himself, Charles would have to admit that there’d been no one in his life beside his parents for nearly five years. But he was seldom honest with himself because it was too painful. His father had orchestrated nearly every aspect of his life, and the last relationship fiasco had left Charles embarrassed beyond words. He had felt that Emma was the woman for him, but his father had disagreed. After he’d broken off their engagement, Charles escaped the emptiness in his life by immersing himself in work.