Anna led them back out through the courtyard, then outside the villa walls to a narrow dirt path that led to the swimming pool.

“Parking is here if you buy a car or scooter,” said Luigi, pointing to a flat, gravel area with a simple, yet ingenious canopy that Ross stopped to examine. It was a wood-beam frame with chain-link fence thrown over the top, now rendered solid by a heavy grapevine that had snaked in and around the fencing until it was thick as a thatch roof.

Ross hadn’t seen the pool when they entered as it was around the west side of the villa, built on a terrace overlooking the vineyards. There was a lattice archway leading into it with grapevines growing around it, the seasoned vines overtaking the structure and appearing to support the aged wood rather than the opposite.

The pool was large and its cool aqua-blue water shimmered. Not far from the pool there was a child’s slide and swing set.

As Ross looked around he saw that they weren’t alone. On the far side of the pool, lying on a blanket, was a young woman wearing a light, beige sundress, the straps down over her shoulders. She had sleek, well-proportioned features, a slender waist, full breasts and long, thin legs. She had high, narrow cheeks, and her hair was pulled back, falling over one shoulder. She was lying on her side next to a small boy, her eyes fixed on the novel she held. The child lay on his stomach, crashing his toys together in combat.

Just then the woman looked up. Ross could not look away. Though she was as beautiful in form as any woman he had ever seen, it was her eyes that struck him most profoundly. She had beautiful, hazel eyes—the sad, fawnlike eyes of the fiorentina. Like a Botticelli painting.

Anna waved. “Ciao, Eliana, buona giornata.”

“Ciao, Anna,” the young woman returned in a friendly voice.

The woman looked from Anna to Ross, and they shared eye contact, but she quickly turned her attention back to her book. Ross turned away, though out of politeness, not desire. He wanted to stare at her as he might a painting, and perhaps just as intensely. Beauty took time to properly digest.

Anna whispered something to Luigi, which, after a few moments, he shared with Ross as well.

“She says that besides herself, this woman will be your only neighbor. She has only the one boy and he is very quiet. So you need not be concerned about the noise.” Then Luigi added, “I think there is something wrong with the child. He has some sickness, I believe.”

Ross looked back toward the child but found himself staring at the woman again.

“She is a pretty woman, no?” Luigi asked.

Ross turned away, slightly embarrassed at being caught staring. “Sì,” he said.

Anna began talking again, pointing out the distant boundaries of the property. Luigi translated, though unnecessarily. “This is a working fattoria. The Ferrini family is well known in Chianti for their olive oil. They also have good wine. A premium wine. I have tried it. But they are not famous for it. You can try some and decide for yourself if it is good. She says that if you decide to rent you are invited to join them at the vendemmia—the grape harvest in October.” Then he added, “It is really a great thing. They have a big feast afterward.”