shook his head. His eyes were warm. For the moment, his troubled look had faded. “Tell me this, Isabella,” he said. “You’ve said your restaurant was in trouble because you couldn’t get the best ingredients. Is this going to make that big a difference? Will all be well now?”
She hesitated, tempted to fudge the truth a little. This was such a subject of frustration for her. But when she looked at his face, she knew she could never be less than frank with him.
“No,” she said simply. “All will not be well. My father is a wonderful man and a good cook, but he can’t run a business to save his life. We are in big trouble financially, and in all sorts of other ways. I’m not sure we’ll last much longer no matter how much good food we cook up.”
He nodded. From what she’d told him and a few things he’d heard from Renzo, he’d had a feeling that was the case.
“Maybe your father should let you take the reins,” he said dryly. “You are the one who seems to have a passion for business.”
That brought her up short, but she realized, very quickly, that he had a point. She had the instincts, though not the training. If only Luca would give her a chance…
“So what could I do to make a profit?” he asked her. “Besides turning my ancestral estate into a…what did you call it? A destination resort.” He gave her a mock glare. “Something, by the way, that I would never do.”
She took his question quite seriously. “Well, to begin with, you could renovate your vineyards. How about that? Wine sells very well these days.”
He was laughing at her. It was obvious he wasn’t taking this as seriously as she was. “Isabella, Isabella, what about the nobility of the grape?”
She made a face. “Nobility is a pose,” she said. “Something that looks nice for special occasions, but is shed in a moment when it’s no longer working for you.”
He threw back his head and laughed aloud. “I can see you have big plans for me. What in particular?”
“I was thinking after seeing your abandoned vineyard…” She hesitated. Did she really want to tell him her thoughts? But why not? If not now, when?
“Well, you could hire my friend Giancarlo. The way some people restore businesses that have been run badly, he restores vineyards. I’m sure he can get you up and running in no time.”
He gazed at her as though he wasn’t sure just how seriously to take what she was saying. “So I can sell my grapes?”
“Why not? Or how about your own winery? With a tasting room? Then you could run tours from the village. People love to tour wineries. A little wine tasting, a small bistro on the premises…”
He was laughing at her but she didn’t care. “You could run my restaurant,” he said with a grin.
“Thank you.” She made a pretend curtsy from the saddle. “I’d love to.”
What a great idea. She fairly shivered with excitement over it. To think of running a restaurant for Max! Of making the special sauce for tourists who would come from far and wide…
But she quickly brought herself back down to earth. It was a pipe dream and she knew it. He refused to come face-to-face with strangers. He wouldn’t even let vineyard workers on his land. How could he stand to have tourists? It wasn’t going to happen.
They crested another hill and there below them was the field where the basil grew. She leaned forward in the saddle and sighed with relief. She’d had a dream during the night that she’d arrived here only to find the earth scorched and not a plant in sight. At least that hadn’t happened.
But that dream had cast a pall on her morning. She’d thought of it with dread as she was preparing the picnic lunch to take with her. Was it a sign? Should she be prepared for the worst?
Susa had raised an eyebrow at the preparations, but didn’t say a thing. Isabella ignored her and packed sandwiches in a basket and stowed them in her little car.
“Where are you going?” her father called from the doorway.
She hesitated. Should she tell him? Dashing back to give him a hug, she whispered in his ear, “I think I will have the basil with me when I return. Say a prayer for me.” And she kissed his leathery cheek, turned and hurried off before he had time to question her further.
And all the time, she’d wondered if the basil would even be there once she made her way to it. Now she knew. It was here all right. And she was going to take as much of it as she could.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ISABELLA slid down off the horse and began to collect the basil, snipping leaves with little scissors she’d brought along with her. Max dismounted as well, but he stood back, watching her, and when she glanced up she noticed that all his good humor had fled. In fact, he looked ill at ease.
This was the place he considered too dangerous to let her visit alone, but she still couldn’t really understand why. The hillside looked quite benign. The river was racing past below, and she knew how he felt about the river, but even if she started to slide there were plenty of places where she would be able to break her fall. No, she didn’t get it. The place seemed fine to her.
The only problem was, the basil was not quite at its peak and there was only a limited amount she could harvest at the moment. She was going to have to discuss this with him and ask to come again in a week or so. Was he going to allow it? She had no idea.
It did seem all his warmth had evaporated and all he wanted to do was hurry up and get her to finish up and head for home again. Looking at his face, she decided to deal with her problem later.
“Okay,” she told him at last, tying her two large bags together. “I think I have enough for now.”
He nodded, handing her Mimi’s reins and helping her aboard, then turning to mount his own horse. Isabella turned to look at him, and as she did the reins slipped from her hand.
“Oh!” She started to lean down to get them again, but the bags full of basil began to fall and she had to grab for them instead, stuffing them under a strap to hold them tightly secure.
And in that moment, something went wrong. She was never able to pinpoint exactly what happened, but something frightened the sweet, gentle horse who had been so pleasant all day, and suddenly she turned into a different animal.
“Max!” Isabella cried, grabbing handfuls of mane in order to keep from falling. “Stop her!”
Mimi wasn’t waiting around to see what Max would do. She neighed in an alarming way and shot off toward the river.
“Max!”
Isabella hung on for dear life. The water was straight ahead.
“No, Mimi!” she cried, seeing another dunking in her future, at the very least. Closer and closer—the river looked inevitable. Then, suddenly Mimi veered away, racing along the bank, into the trees.
In a moment, a small clearing appeared, and a beautiful waterfall, and Mimi came to an abrupt stop. Too abrupt. Isabella sailed right over her head and landed in the brush. Mimi seemed
