Our eyes met and we began to laugh. Young love and old love. How could they be decades apart yet so similar in the raw emotions? So we used humor to avoid tears, and my daughter finally let me into her heart, and I savored every precious second, hoping this was the beginning of a new understanding between us.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sophia

The moment our villa came into sight, I let out a gasp of delight.

It was just like I’d always dreamed. Casa nella Selva was situated at the top of the hill, overlooking the small town of Borgo a Mozzano. The three-story stone farmhouse was nestled in the valley, with the mighty Appenine Mountains shimmering in the distance. The simplicity of the décor inside contrasted with the stunning views afforded by the terrace and outdoor dining area. I’d done the research and learned it was previously a working chestnut farm and vineyard. I’d haggled with Frannie over which villa to pick, avoiding the too-modern or luxurious residences in favor of the traditional beauty Italy afforded.

It was perfect.

We parked the rental car and did the full tour, chattering and pointing out all the charming nooks and crannies and character the farmhouse provided. The kitchen reminded me of a place my parents would cook, with no fancy appliances and a sturdy pinewood table. Shutters were flung open to allow us to feast on the spectacular views of clustered farmhouses, twisted vines heavy with grapes, and tangles of plants and wildflowers bursting from every space. We each had our own bedroom, and there was room for two more upstairs in the loft, a cute open space with a double bed.

After Allegra and Frannie claimed their rooms, we wandered outside to take stock. “Nonni!” Allegra yelled, racing to the outdoor makeshift kitchen. “They have a pizza oven!”

I clapped my hands with excitement. “We can walk to the market and get our ingredients for dinner. I passed the herb garden too, did you see? Fresh rosemary, basil, sage—everything we need for cooking!”

Frannie laughed. “It’s like you two spotted a designer shopping mall right here in Tuscany,” she teased.

“This is better,” Allegra said solemnly, her eyes lit. “Chefs always say food tastes best with fresh ingredients and good energy. I bet these could be some of the most delicious meals I ever prepare.”

Frannie’s face softened. “I bet they will. And I can’t wait to taste them.”

I turned quickly, the stab of emotion cutting deep. She was really listening. There was no mockery about Allegra’s love for cooking, or distracted glances as she checked her phone. Gratitude flowed through me. We still had a week together. A week to cook and walk and talk. A week with my two girls before I headed home to face a diagnosis with no idea what to expect.