Rosamanti Read Online Free PDF

covered her hand with his. It was a friendly gesture, a way of saying I understand, I care. It was gentle, unobtrusive, totally without expectation.
    “So, I did what the lady said. I dug deep. Very deep.” She fingered the groove in her left ring-finger. When she looked up, Pietro’s dark brown eyes reflected the sadness she felt. “Being married to Ted for twenty years was wonderful, but you are only ever one half of another person. I was a child when we fell in love. Once Ted had gone, I couldn’t function alone. It was quite a harrowing time, actually. But I realized that I needed to find myself again. The grown-up me. So…here I am.”
    He said nothing for a long while, just stared out to sea. Then he turned to her.
    “So, Sarah. Will you be staying at Rosamanti?”
    “You know, I think I will.”
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    The next three days went by in a haze of heat, housework, and happiness. The upstairs had four small bedrooms.
    “This was Nonna’s bedroom. It’s the best one.” He opened the window wide and stood back, his arms folded across his chest. Her eyes widened as she peered out through the wooden frame. Sweeping views of Capri township spread out before her, spilling down to Marina Grande. The sparkling blue of the sea was breathtaking. She could even see the top of Vesuvius in the distance. It was as though she had a view from the top of the world.
    “You will sleep in here?”
    Pulling herself away from the stunning vista, she turned to look at him, trying to read the expression on his face.
    “Is that all right with you? I mean…”
    He nodded, his lips curving slightly into a sad smile. “Of course. Nonna would be happy if you move in here. And I am too.”
    She and Pietro worked side by side in the little villa, packing up Signora Lombardi’s meager possessions and storing them in boxes in one of the back bedrooms. As she helped him to prepare her bedroom, she noticed Pietro placing a few small objects from Nonna’s old dressing table into a shoe box. She looked up, catching his eyes, noticing how sad they looked. He looked away and placed the lid on the box.
    “Just a few small mementoes of my Nonna. Trinkets—I grew up seeing them here on her dressing table every day of my life. They remind me of her.”
    She smiled at him, not really knowing what to say. His loss was still so new. She continued taking down the curtains, ready to wash them.
    Another room was smaller, but somehow caught the light, making it feel warm and welcoming. She opened the window and peered out. From here, she had a sweeping view of blue sea, with the Sorrentine Peninsula and Amalfi Coast in the distance. But what intrigued her the most was a sharply rising cape atop sheer cliffs, covered with what appeared to be a large crumbling building, wedged right up against the soaring peak of a rugged mountain. Rising from the cliff’s edge, the white facade stood out clearly against the blue backdrop of the sea. Craning her neck, she leaned farther out the window. Broken staircases and columns, and beyond them, the ruins of foundations, lay mapped out on the green grass like an architect’s drawing.
    “Ah, I see you have discovered Villa Jovis . ” She hadn’t heard Pietro come up behind her. “The legendary, reclusive retreat of the Roman Emperor Tiberius.” He pointed to the peak faraway to the north. “That’s Monte Tiberio. Tiberius built in the safest place—a sheer cliff to the sea on one side, the other a sheer mountain. The only way in is through this valley where Rosamanti is.”
    She remembered reading about Villa Jovison the plane coming to Italy. It was incredibly old—its construction beginning in the first century BC. Already, the author in her could feel the muse agitating, wanting to come and sit on her shoulder, to whisper in her ear. Suddenly, her writer’s block didn’t seem so solid. She looked back at the little room, knowing instinctively that this would make the perfect study. In