The Summer Villa. Melissa Hill
they’d bought it, Kim and her business partners had wholly achieved their intention to create a very subtle, yet contemporary architectural update that reinterpreted the character of the building, while staying faithful to its origins.
Outside, the cast iron perimeter and window railings had all been lovingly restored, external plasterwork and sash windows replaced with wholly sympathetic but weatherproof alternatives, and every last one of the terrace’s limestone tiles and steps had been completely relaid to ensure a sleeker, less rickety poolside surface.
The gardens had been well-maintained throughout the years, and while they’d had no choice but to cut back some of the more aggressive bougainvillea so as to retouch the exterior plasterwork, and earmarked a patch previously overrun with dying trees for a lawned area, little other work had been required.
The remaining good olive and lemon trees still bore heavy fruit, and the familiar citrus scent now filled the warm summer air as Kim wound her way through the courtyard.
At last, the Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat was due to open next month and Kim couldn’t wait.
‘Just here,’ she said, as she supervised the delivery guys. The patio furniture some of the locals were carrying had been hand-picked by Kim, each piece reflecting her own classic style as well as the influence of their Amalfi Coast surroundings.
‘Giving orders already, I see,’ an amused male voice called out from behind her.
Kim smiled. ‘Someone once told me that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.’
‘Yes, I think I have heard that one.’ Antonio Berger had been one of Kim’s business partners for the past five years. More than two decades her senior, the Italian was more of a father figure and mentor, and encouraged her in every venture she pursued.
When she’d first met him and his wife, Emilia, on her first visit to Italy almost six years before, they’d been a welcome presence in her life and much-needed guides as she tried to navigate away from her upbringing and figure out what to do with her life.
Antonio, as ever, was dressed in a light-coloured linen suit and square-front brown leather shoes. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed back regally, accentuating his long face and square jaw, and his lively brown eyes lit up as he smiled at her.
‘As always, you already seem to have everything covered,’ he commented, stepping back and casually slipping a hand into his trouser pocket as he regarded the villa’s freshly renovated grandeur. ‘You certainly don’t need me.’
‘I always need you,’ she answered with a grin. ‘So do you want the grand tour?’
The pair walked back towards the main house together. ‘You haven’t been here since we bought it, have you?’ she realised as she led him through the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the rear.
She smiled fondly as the memories of her arrival here all those years ago came rushing back.
How the kitchen had once been a cornucopia of blue, green and yellow with its grubby tiling, mismatched cheap units, and equally mismatched plates and cups on the open shelves. All the kitchen units were now bespoke in dark wood, complementing the ochres and light blue accents, and contrasting the wider openings and light tinted walls.
A brand-new staircase replaced the old heavy wooden steps and rails, completely redefining the formerly dark and dreary entryway. Constructed in white-coated metal, the stairs appeared as if suspended from a softly curved aperture above the main space, adding instant character and interest to the reception area.
The interiors felt lighter, brighter, and much more spacious, with blues and greys of the ocean incorporated primarily in the soft furnishings, bringing a restful classic feel that could be easily updated.
The colour ochre recurred throughout, contrasting with new glass openings overhead and lighter shades on the walls. Bright terrazzo flooring had been installed throughout in place of the dark terracotta mishmash that had welcomed Kim six years before.
‘Actually, no,’ he replied. ‘I meant to, but you know … with Emilia,’ he added gently, referring to his wife who had recently been diagnosed with dementia.
‘How is she?’
Kim noted the way Antonio’s chest rose and fell before he spoke. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to come to terms with the fact that the person you love will eventually lose all memory of you and the life you shared.
It was difficult enough for Kim to get her head around the decline of a sunny, vibrant woman into the confused and frightened soul she apparently was now.
Not that she’d seen Emilia recently, she thought guiltily, given how busy she’d been getting this place ready for the launch. The Bergers were based in Milan, while Kim lived in California, where her husband was from, and whenever she travelled to Italy to check on the renovation project, her short visits had been restricted to the Amalfi Coast.
‘It is hard to say. Sometimes she is perfectly lucid, the same Emilia, while others …’ he trailed off solemnly. ‘The doctors have been talking about residential care but I think that is premature,’ he added, almost to himself. Kim knew the very idea of it was killing him.
She stepped forward to give him another hug.
‘It’ll be lovely to see her at the party and once all of this is over, I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with you both.’
He patted her back paternally. ‘It’s OK, I’m coming to terms with it, and for the most part she is still my Emilia. We’ve had a good life and have been through a lot together. She gave me two beautiful children and almost forty years of true love,’ he said with a fond smile. ‘I would be nowhere else than by her side.’
‘Then I’m even more grateful that you carved out the time for me. I know it must’ve been a wrench to leave her.’
He shook his head lightly. ‘No, no, she is excited about this. You needed me also, and of course she and I are not just your partners, but your friends, too. In any case,’ he teased, ‘perhaps she will not even miss me.’
Though she knew he was joking, she could still hear the pain behind his words. Ever the optimist, she knew he was trying his utmost to not let his wife’s diagnosis blight their lives or dampen their spirits.
Now he took both of her hands in his. ‘So how are you, bella?’
Kim smiled gamely but knew it didn’t reach her eyes and Antonio would likely see through her own pretence just as easily. ‘Just OK,’ she answered, averting her gaze. ‘I’m a bit tired. There’s been a lot going on and still loads to get through. At least I’m here on the ground now, the invites are out and the guest list is finalised …’
‘Well, it’s a long list. Are your friends going to make it? The ladies who were with you that summer?’
Kim had almost forgotten she’d first met Antonio the same time as Annie and Colette. The three had come together as strangers six years ago at the villa but in the ensuing years had managed to maintain their friendship, albeit at long-distance with their contact now sporadic.
She and Colette had been guests at each other’s weddings, and she’d managed to meet up with Annie on a business trip to Dublin the year before last.
Of course, social media made it easy to keep track of each other’s lives, but Kim missed the closeness they’d shared that summer. It would be so lovely to get the gang back together in person for a reunion. Here at the villa, especially.
‘I hope so,’ Kim said, realising that she needed to check in on the RSVPs. She’d sent invites to both women, asking them and their respective plus ones to next month’s official Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat launch celebration, including flights and a hotel stay over a long weekend.
Once the party was done and the centre officially open for reservations, Kim would be temporarily free from work obligations. She relished the