Elena Rossi's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Elena Rossi had until sundown to prove she meant to work the vineyard, or a buyer would take it from her. She stood at the wrought iron gate in her grandmother's blue dress, the one she saved for things that mattered. Beyond the gate rose the villa her uncle had left her, its stucco walls cracked, its red roof tiles sliding loose. She had crossed the whole country for this ruin. She would not lose it in a single afternoon. A black car was already parked in the drive. The buyer waited by the oak door, a thin man in a clean suit holding papers. He smiled at her the way a man smiles at something he has already decided to own. "The land is neglected," he said. "You cannot run it. Sign, and I will pay you well." Elena's hand shook on the pen he offered. She did not know how to run a vineyard. She had never pruned a vine or read a soil chart. The man saw her doubt and pushed the papers closer. Then the oak door swung open on its own. A young man stood in the frame, tall, with black hair and a gray work shirt streaked with dirt. A wrench hung from his belt. He looked at the buyer, then at Elena, and his jaw set. "You must be the niece," he said. "Welcome home, signorina." "You know this place?" Elena asked. "I keep it standing." He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Matteo Moretti. Your uncle hired me two years ago. The old pipe under the house burst this morning. If I don't finish it, your house becomes a swimming pool." The buyer's smile thinned. "The estate has no working staff. No plan. It cannot be farmed." Matteo turned to Elena. He spoke low, only to her. "He's wrong. The vines in the south rows are still alive. I've been keeping them. Tell him you're working the land. Tell him you have a foreman." Elena understood. She lifted her chin and faced the man in the suit. "The estate is not for sale," she said. "I have a foreman. The pipe is being repaired today. Tomorrow we begin the south rows." Her voice held steady, though her heart pounded. "You may take your papers back." The buyer stared at her. He looked at Matteo, at the wrench, at the dirt on his shirt. He folded the papers slowly. "Then I will wait," he said. "Vines die. Roofs fall. When you cannot pay, I will still be near." He got in his car and drove off. Elena breathed out. She had kept the land. But she had promised south rows she'd never seen and a plan she didn't have. Water gushed somewhere below the house. "Come," Matteo said, already turning. "The pipe won't wait for a speech." She gathered her dress and followed him inside, into the sound of the flood.