Some years passed. One day, they decided to assess if they could possibly attain the seemingly impossible. Voila! They had made so much money that apart from buying a vineyard in Italy they would even be able to build a farm house on it. Their dream was about to come true.
The following few weeks were a rush. They flew to Italy, met some vineyard owners, calculated the risk involved (she was quite the thing with number crunching)….he was just overawed with the beauty and made full use of his senses to imbibe whatever little he could of times to come. Or so, he thought.
They bought one in Asti, Piedmont. It was right out of a fairy tale. Just like she had imagined and he had hoped. A lush green expanse of vines, tiny hillock shaped pastures surrounding it….giving the impression of a valley, butterflies were flitting around in gay abandon, a clear blue sky above with a brush of cirrus intortus and amidst all of this was a quaint looking villa.
She always wanted to stay in an independent house, so here it was. A tiny haven made of dark chestnut wood and imbrices and tegulae. Right out of a children’s story book. The approach road to the villa was made of a mixture of mosaics….a tiny path leading from a small wooden gate. Alongside the path was lush green grass and a variety of wild flowering plants and shrubs. The porch was smallish with a railing, just enough for 4 people to sit and have a cup of roasted arabica. She imagined them sitting on the porch, a cake she had freshly baked, some biscotti and a cute little glass pot full of strong coffee.
He was silent she thought….she’d been chirping incessantly about the vineyard, the villa, what they could do there, etc. He on the other hand had simply been smiling and nodding at whatever she said. Finally she lost it and almost rhetorically yelled, ‘Are you even listening to me?’ He looked at her, calm as always, the same insensitive placid expression he always gave (one that she so hated)…. ‘Shush’, he said…… ‘Try and listen….’. Reluctantly she quieted her self and lent a patient ear to her surroundings. ‘The birds are chirping?’ ,she asked quizzical at what the hell was he talking about. ‘Behind the villa…..’, he whispered. A moment of silence followed. Both dropped their rucksacks and made a wild rush for the backyard.
There under the Italian sun, ran the most beautiful stream in the world…..right through their backyard. Tiny pebbles in the water bed made the gushing water jump, splash, gurgle…..producing the sweetest sound of music both had ever heard. Neither spoke. They looked at each other……their eyes met….their lips parted and both smiled! It was perfect!
They thanked the broker profusely for helping them make their dream come true and he left them to soak in the pleasant feeling of their new found joy.
********************to be continued*****************************