The four of them met in Salvatore’s office at ten, politely offering each other coffee and ensuring everyone had a seat, though the tension was palpable. Someone apart from Piero had an agenda and he suspected it was Graziella.

He jumped in before she could. ‘The lawyers’ advice regarding the access situation may be in doubt.’ He watched Graziella’s face drop as he gave them a summary. As he’d spent most of Sunday on the internet researching, he was confident he sounded informed. He concluded, ‘I know the lawyers were recommended to you, Papà, but I believe we should ask more questions.’

Salvatore and Emiliano, clearly bemused, gazed at Piero. Outside, the sky darkened until the light inside the office was grey. Thunder rumbled like a growl from a big dog. Nobody moved to put on a light.

Emiliano turned an enquiring glance on Salvatore. ‘Were the lawyers clear?’ He sounded unsure, as if, like Piero, he’d simply accepted what he’d been told.

Salvatore looked at Graziella and Piero’s heart sank as he realised he was expecting her to supply the information.

Graziella’s lips turned down. Stiffly, she said, ‘My interpretation of the lawyer’s advice is that the owner of Il Rifugio controls access to Bella Vista.’

Emiliano sat up. ‘Interpretation?’ he repeated, clearly horrified. ‘I thought it was solid legal opinion.’

Salvatore’s eyebrows twitched as if in response to the flicker of surprise in his eyes. Noting his father’s reaction, Piero pressed, ‘Papà? What’s your own interpretation?’ At the same time, he was absorbing the fact that the assistance Graziella rendered Salvatore because she could type at hurricane speed and flip from app to app like a gymnast had morphed into her providing ‘interpretations’.

Salvatore cleared his throat. ‘I would have to read the email again to remind myself.’

‘Emiliano and I should read it too.’ Piero fought to keep his voice level. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled closer. A gust of wind threw rain at the window and the lowering sky beyond the glass promised the kind of deluge that meant Umbria wasn’t ready to turn from green to summer gold. July and August could be completely dry in the Apennine Mountains so a few good thunderstorms in June were welcome and this one entirely suited his mood.

Salvatore shifted, his gaze sidling to Graziella once again. In a rush of fury, Piero realised his father didn’t know where to find the correspondence from the lawyers. His father wasn’t paying proper attention.

Salvatore was known to grab the right opportunities; he was the father Piero had trusted all his life. But he apparently had an Achilles heel … and she was called Graziella. Whether he’d been swayed by his feelings for her or just welcomed someone taking care of the onerous stuff, he’d shown blind trust.