Frame-Up (40 page)

"The real thing or a generic?"

"Silvio only serves the real thing."

"Then I take the same."

Ettore pours him a glass. Fausto takes a sip. "That is genuine. Who
would have thought I had to come to London to taste it? It’s difficult to
get in Milan."

A while later, Silvio joins us, and I introduce the two. Both scrutinize
each other, Silvio somewhat wary, Fausto full of curiosity, but with an
approving smile. "Signore, you are a most fortunate man to have gained
Cecilia’s favor. I admit I envy you. There are not many women like her."

"Please, call me Silvio, and I fully agree. She is a rare pearl."

"You two getting serious?" interjects Carlo.

"Yes." Silvio and I answer simultaneously and then we break into a
smile.

"So Fausto, has Garland transferred the money?"

"Yes, he has, and
il capo
wants you to invest it for him."

"Unfortunately, Fausto, I’m no longer employed by Lewis
Stockbrokers."

"But
il capo
told me that he asked the New York boss to put you again
in charge of his account."

"Yes, the New York boss offered me Garland’s position, but I turned
him down and resigned. I’m looking for a new challenge, one that I will
enjoy."

"
Il capo
won’t like this."

"So?" I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Does that new challenge by chance also involve me?" interjects
Silvio.

I smile. "I hope so."

"I ask because Carlo helped me search the Internet for restaurants for
sale or rent in Northern Italy, and there are several that look promising.
There are even two in Venice, although the asking prices there, even
without ownership of the premises, are outrageous — impossible to make
a profit or even survive. Of the others, one is in the mountains, in Friuli,
reasonably priced."

"What about the one on Lago di Lugano, in Morcote?" interjects Carlo.

"It’s a hotel, not just a restaurant and way out of my price range."

"What’s the asking price?" I question.

"One point six million Swiss francs. That’s over a million euros."

I make some quick calculation. My funds amount to about 800,000
Swiss francs. If Silvio has another two hundred thousand, that should be
enough to support a mortgage of seven to eight hundred thousand Swiss
francs. "I wouldn’t rule that out off hand. I could manage the hotel part
and you can make the restaurant famous. Didn’t you say your first
preference is at one of the lakes? So it’s in Switzerland, rather than Italy,
and you can see Italy from Morcote." I wink. "Morcote is a gem, and the
mountains to the north and Milan to the south, both only an hour away.
Let’s explore it fully tomorrow."

"But we would need at least eight hundred thousand Swiss francs for
that."

"I think we should be able to manage that."

"Are you serious? Don’t raise my hopes in vain, Ceci."

"I’m serious, Silvio." I turn to Fausto. "What are you grinning about?"

"Ceci, your nick name." He laughs. "That’s the last thing I would have
expected."

"Carlo called me that when he started talking and couldn’t manage
Cecilia, and I like it."

"Yes, it has an amusing ring to it." He chuckles again. "Silvio, this
wine is a dream." He holds up his empty glass. Silvio signals to Ettore for
a refill. "If the food is a good as the wine and the company, I will enjoy
myself thoroughly tonight."

"I can promise you that it will be better than anything you’ve tasted in
London," I preempt Silvio.
 

"And you deprived me of that until today. Shame on you, Cecilia."

"I first had to establish that you deserved it."

"And I did?"

"Yes, Fausto, you proved yourself."

"It was an experience I will fondly remember to my old age."

"Then make sure you reach an old age."

He shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of the wine. "But if you
run a hotel restaurant in Morcote, I will have the pleasure of seeing you
again. I will be one of your faithful clients and I’ll bring you lots of
business."

Yes, and most will be mafiosi. "
Fausto, you will always be welcome,
but don’t bring the likes of Massimo. I’m not even sure I want to meet
Carvaggio face to face."

"You know, Cecilia, one of the features I so like about you is that you
say it straight. No beating about the bush. With you, if one is willing to
listen, one always knows where one stands." After a pause, he adds,
grinning: "And if one doesn’t listen it can become quite painful, as I can
attest from personal experience."

I wag a finger at him.

"People, let’s now move to our table," suggests Silvio, putting a hand
on my shoulder and directing me toward a table at the back of the
restaurant.

EPILOGUE: Monday, 8
^th
September, 8:20 p.m.

I’m sitting at my desk on the fourth level of the Hotel Cecilia in Morcote,
looking across Lago di Lugano toward the tree-clad ridge rising sharply
from the opposite shore. Hardly a ripple disturbs the surface of the dark
green water. To the southwest, the Italian town of Porto Ceresio — the
black silhouette of a church tower contrasts sharply against the last
shimmer of dusk. From time to time, the muffled noise of a car passing
by on the street below breaks the serene silence of the evening.

I’ve just tucked in Teresa. As usual, she fell asleep while I was reading
a bedside story. Before leaving her little bedroom, I watched her peaceful
face for a moment and stroked away an unruly lock from her forehead,
my heart filling with love for that precious girl.

The Sanvino affair is no more than a distant memory, although it
turned my life upside down — mind you, for the better. I’m six weeks
pregnant. Yes, it’s Silvio’s child.

On Saturday of the week that started with Garland’s confession, I took
Sally on the promised visit to the National Gallery. Carlo joined us. I
couldn’t tell if the girl enjoyed the pictures, because her eyes were only
for my good-looking brother. He was his charming self, and I’m afraid,
she fell for him.

Carlo and I had dinner at the Boltons that same Saturday — simple,
nourishing English fare. Both Carlo and my father behaved themselves.
The girls simply adored Carlo, and he didn’t fail to entertain them. After
they had gone to bed, my father, Lucy, Carlo and I had a frank talk — a
start to clearing the air between father and son. Dad assured Carlo that he
would support him if he went into treatment for his drug addiction. Carlo
promised to think about it. I could not expect more at that point. Although
he was by then over the immediate physical craving for drugs, they still
had a psychological hold on him. He though agreed to go into
psychotherapy right away. I arranged for him to see the therapist my
Aikido instructor had recommended. We regularly visited the Boltons at
least once a week over the following two months.

Emilia took two thousand euros — she insisted she needed more
money right away — signed the pledge to agree to an uncontested divorce
and received Silvio’s signed pledge for another eighteen thousand euros
once the divorce was granted — the change in amounts inserted by hand
on the documents I prepared and initialed by both. She flew to Milan in
the company of Fausto who promised to get her settled.

A week later, Silvio went to Belluno to fetch his daughter. I fell in love
with that girl the moment I saw her. She was hugging the koala to her
chest. She moved into my bedroom and quickly warmed to me. We were
regular visitors at the Boltons. Susan and Clara loved playing with her.
While Teresa made a beginning to make herself understood in English,
the girls picked up more Italian. It became a game. Hearing their giggles
and laughter was music to my ears.

The sentencing judge convicted Garland to one year in prison, giving
him leave to apply for home detention. Gary Buxton and Bob Gough both
got a nine-months, suspended term. All lenient sentences. They were
banned from dealing on the stock exchange.

Carlo and I didn’t spend Christmas at my mother’s. I finally told her
about the Sanvino affair. Lucy invited all of us, Teresa and Silvio
included, to their Christmas meal.

Early in the New Year, Silvio, Teresa, and I went to Morcote to inspect
the hotel. By then Teresa called me mamma. We also visited my mother.
I don’t know whether she approved of Silvio and Teresa.

 The hotel has a restaurant on the ground floor with additional tables
under the arcade in front of the hotel, an open terrace off the first floor
behind the house with a view to the old church above the village, fourteen
guest rooms, all with built-in bathrooms, and a three-bedroom apartment
on the top floor. The guest rooms needed considerable work. I managed
to bring the price down by eighty thousand Swiss francs, with the current
owners leaving a mortgage of eight hundred thousand at a reasonably low
interest rate. All papers were signed, with the changeover scheduled for
late February. I sold my apartment. Its equity plus additional funds went
into renovating the six bedrooms facing the lake to a four-star rating,
upgrading the terrace so that it could be used for outdoor dining, and a
face-lift of the hotel façade. I changed its name to Hotel Cecilia. We did
some of the work ourselves. I launched myself fully into this venture,
never regretting to be no longer part of the hothouse of world finance.

Silvio’s divorce went through early March. We got married on the first
of May. Fausto and his
fidanzata
attended. In fact, they were the first
guests at the hotel when it opened the day after the wedding. They
became regular customers, often spending a weekend at the hotel, and he
brought other guests. It was difficult to judge whether they were Mafia or
not.

The restaurant
Al Silvio
shot to almost instant fame as a result of two
special press features that I managed to pull off, the first in the weekend
edition of
La Stampa
of Milan, the second in a tourist travel magazine in
Lugano. At least half our clientele came from Italy, many staying
overnight and visiting the Casino in the Italian enclave of Campione
across the lake. I developed catching Web pages in several languages
with Internet booking options for both the hotel and the restaurant. It soon
attracted guests, many foreign, British, German, Dutch, even a family
from Sweden. Over the summer season, the hotel stayed fully booked out.
The venture produced a profit almost from the start.

Our father thought that I should continue being Carlo’s main support.
Carlo moved in with us and entered a treatment program in Lugano. It
didn’t come easy for him, but both Silvio and I were there to lend moral
support and encouragement. Whether he will ultimately get completely
free of drugs is still a question. He is enrolled in information science at
the University in Lugano with a generous allowance from our father.

Sally spent three weeks with us over the summer, often helping in the
restaurant and enjoying it. Carlo took her on sightseeing trips. I made him
aware that she was only fifteen.

My father’s family visited us in August. While Lucy and the girls
stayed for three weeks, he only managed to spare a week with us, but he
liked what he saw. He offered to give us a loan for upgrading the
remaining eight guest rooms. We plan to do it two at a time over the
winter period, when the number of guests is unlikely to be fill all rooms.

I have to close now. Silvio is coming up the stairs to join me.

THE END

Other novels by Gian Bordin:

    
Historical fiction:

          
A Summer of Love

          
The Twins

          
A Threesome

          
Anna, the Reluctant Courtesan

          
Chiara’s Revenge

    
Thrillers:

          
Ultimate Dare

          
Kidnapped

    
Science fiction: