Hold On to Me Read Online Free PDF

keys. I appreciate it.’
    â€˜Sure. Not a problem.’ She held on to his hand. ‘I know where you live. Might drop by to see how the renos are going.’
    He chuckled, slipped his fingers out of hers.
    â€˜If you do flip it, let me know. I’d be really interested in selling it for you.’
    Luca waved a hand goodbye as she stepped on to the footpath. ‘I’ll think about it.’
    He didn’t wait for her to drive away before stepping up onto the tessellated tile veranda and studying it once again. It was set in geometric patterns of black, bone and pale green, and inset with decorative tiles at even distances; he was happy it had survived one hundred and twenty years of foot traffic. Once the front wall and veranda had been painted, and the brush fence filled in, the old place would start to shine.
    Luca slipped the key into the door and pushed it open. He knew that an enticing entrance was the easy part. It was what was inside that made this place a challenge. Light streamed in ahead of him, a spotlight down the long hallway in which motes of dust floated in slow motion. He was now officially, finally, the renovator of this renovator’s delight. He wanted this project, had saved up every dollar he had and searched for months until he’d found just the right place. He liked working with his hands, could fix almost anything and, if he couldn’t, Anna was right. They had an extended family and community of tradies who could help him.
    Pride swelled his chest. This was going to be the real beginning of Morelli Constructions. His business. His training as a carpenter had sat him in good stead for his successful application for a builder’s licence and now he wanted to get stuck into bigger projects. He’d worked like crazy for near on twelve months and planned ahead so he could spend the whole of December working on his house. From floors to ceilings, it needed everything.
    â€˜Congratulations, Morelli,’ he said to himself, craning his neck to look up at the decorative plaster ceiling, which was bowed and looked dangerously like falling on his head. ‘You’ve bought a dump.’
    And he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He turned left into the front room. The carpets were threadbare, but his earlier inspections had revealed that the aged pine boards beneath were the colour of dark honey. The glass in the windows was intact but the sashes needed replacing. One of the four walls—why just one, he wondered—was covered in garish 1970s wallpaper and he didn’t have a clue what was underneath. More wallpaper? Calcimine coating that was such a bastard to get rid of? He had no doubt he’d find out soon enough. He stepped back into the hallway and passed the imposing wooden staircase on the right; it featured a runner like an ascending red carpet, which he was planning to remove so he could re-stain the wood and restore the balustrade. It only took a dozen steps to reach the back of the house, which was a shabby patchwork of lean-to rooms comprising a small kitchen and a basic bathroom.
    He could whip up a meal with the best of them, but he wasn’t fussed that the kitchen was pokey and simple. He’d replace it soon enough and open it up to the small backyard. And anyway, he was close enough to Gouger Street, one of Adelaide’s best restaurant strips, to sate his hunger, and he went to his parents’ house every Wednesday night for dinner with Nonna, his younger sister Grace, and Anna, Joe and Francesca. It was a ritual he was happy to take part in because he got to see the little girl who adored him. Francesca was loved by everyone in the family but he knew, without a doubt, that she loved her Uncle Luca best of all.
    His phone vibrated in the pocket of his work shorts and he dug it out.
    â€˜Ciao, Anna.’
    â€˜Well? Did you get my message about the fire and Stella’s shop? Did you ring her already?’
    â€˜Hello