He followed her gaze towards the lower flight, which led up to the door that opened from the other side of the house. Like so many houses built into the mountain it was split-level. The stair treads were of plain terracotta but the risers boasted pretty hand-painted tiles of dark blue and white. The bannister wood was nearly black with age and a blue glass ball on the newel post caught the light. ‘The house is about three hundred years old. I’ve been told that Papà’s cousin who ran the vineyard before us had a particular female friend who lived here once. Maybe that’s why the property was named Il Rifugio, The Escape.’

‘“A particular female friend”,’ she repeated thoughtfully, cocking one eyebrow.

He smiled, not about to apologise for the alleged misbehaviour of an ancestor. ‘Nobody had lived here for a while when I bought it from the company. I upgraded the water and electricity systems and modernised the kitchen, knocking two rooms into one. It’s one of my favourite rooms.’ He gestured to encompass the three windows that looked out to the valley and the simple wooden cabinets he’d fitted beneath plain work surfaces. Nicoletta had wanted flamboyant additions but he’d resisted. It summed up their relationship: Nicoletta wanting and Piero resisting.

While he started to make the coffee, Zia settled herself on a stool, hooking a foot over a rung. ‘Durante said they were refused permission to knock down walls in the cottages.’

‘That only happens if you ask,’ he answered gravely.

Laughter gleamed in her eyes. ‘They seem lovely people, Lucia and Durante.’

‘The best,’ he agreed. His coffee machine was the kind with pods and it didn’t take him long to make two cups. He popped a plastic caddy of sugar on the table and a milk carton in front of Zia then straddled a facing stool. ‘So, Lucia’s your great-aunt.’

‘Apparently.’ She opened the sugar and added half a spoonful to her coffee, then a dash of milk. ‘It feels unreal. Lucia’s one of six and just one of those siblings, her brother Roberto, has eight children. The Costa family’s massive.’ She gazed at the table top, rubbing the grain of the wood with a fingertip.

He refrained from remarking that she could have called Roberto her grandfather. When she remained silent, he said, ‘So, about the imposition you mentioned …?’

Immediately, her shoulders seemed to scrunch up. ‘You’ll probably think it’s weird that I’ve approached you. We only met recently.’ She sent him an uncertain look. ‘But the whole thing with Lucia and Durante yesterday rocked me. I talked to Ursula but she could only listen, if you see what I mean. She couldn’t add.’

He tried to find a foothold in the conversation. ‘Add … what sort of thing?’