My jaw dropped open but for a moment I couldn't form any words. The guy in front of me now wore a look of triumph, which thankfully managed to raise some anger in me.
"What are you talking about? My grandfather left the vineyard to me. His solicitor contacted me to execute his will. I have the keys." I raised the heavy bunch of keys in my hand and jangled them in the air. "See?"
“No, Senior Aliberti had no family. He left the vineyard to me. He promised it to me." Gino shook his head slowly back and forth as he spoke, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Well, I don't know what agreement you think you had with my grandfather, but, as you are now aware, he left the vineyard to me! So please get off my property." I decided to take the role of Irritated Property Owner.
"It was not an agreement. Senior Aliberti left me the vineyard in his will." Gino said, unfazed.
This was getting stranger by the second. My grandfather had left me a vineyard along with an irate Italian who also apparently thought he owned the vineyard. I was beginning to think that perhaps this was all some sort of joke by my grandfather. Some final revenge for being cast-off from his own family.
"What do you mean? He left you the vineyard in his will?" There had to be some sort of misunderstanding or lost-in-translation moment happening here. Perhaps ‘will’ meant something different in Italian.
"Si, I am going to the solicitors tomorrow to sign."
Well that possibility was looking less likely.
"There must be some mistake.” I tried again, praying that this was a simple mix-up that could be solved relatively quickly. “Have you actually seen any legal paperwork yet?”
For the first time since our meeting Gino looked uncomfortable and he shifted his tall frame slightly.
“No. But Senior Aliberti promised to leave the vineyard to me.”
Things started to make sense at that point. Clearly this man had known, perhaps had even been very close to, my grandfather. Somewhere along the way my grandfather must have causally mentioned that he would leave the vineyard to him due to his lack of family but then neglected to mention that his will was changed at some point to leave everything to me.
“Well Mr Bianchi,” I began, resuming our former formality, “there appears to have been a misunderstanding. As I am sure you will find out when you speak to the solicitor tomorrow. I can promise you that the vineyard has been left to me. I have the paperwork confirming everything with me.” I hoped this reference to paperwork would finally extinguish his remaining hope.
“I want to see this paperwork”.
Apparently it didn’t.
“Fine, if it will prove to you that the vineyard is mine and get you out of here. Follow me.”
I began walking back towards the kitchen but Gino quickly overtook me and was inside the house first. He was really starting to grate on my nerves. Who did he think he was anyway? I joined him in the kitchen.
“Wait here, the papers are in my bag.”
He remained silent as I headed back out into the hall. Thankfully I had kept all paperwork relating to my move in a small, plastic wallet in my carryon bag. I fished it out and headed back into the kitchen, removing the papers from the solicitor that related to the vineyard. I held them up with a flourish and Gino practically snatched them out of my hands. He began to peruse them, quickly flipping through the pages. Something seemed to catch his eye though as he began to study one page intently. He turned back to the first page then back to the other page. He did this a few times, some mumbled Italian coming from his lips. Finally, he looked up at me.
"You have read this?" he asked, holding the papers up in front of me.
"Of course I have." He didn't need to know that wasn't strictly true. Everything had been conducted in a hurry since I had first heard about my grandfather and the vineyard plus all the paperwork I had been sent was in Italian which didn’t exactly help. But the solicitor I had spoken to had been clear enough. My grandfather had passed away and his will had stated that the vineyard and house were to be inherited by me.
"And what does it say?" Gino’s eyes were locked on mine and I could tell he had read something that he felt gave him the upper hand. I decided it would be best not to give anything away at this point.
"That my grandfather left me his vineyard and house."
"Si.” Gino’s lips almost formed a smile which I found more disconcerting than his previous cool expression.
"What are you talking about?" I struggled for a moment to understand what was still causing confusion for Gino.
Gino pointed to a particular paragraph on one of the papers.
“Here. Senior Aliberti left you his house and the vineyard. That,” Gino walked over to the window and pointed out at the fields beyond. “Is here. The land with the grapes growing.”
“Yes, that’s what I have been saying.” I started to wonder whether there was something wrong this guy.
“Senior Aliberti did not leave you his winery.” Gino crossed his arms and leaned back against the range cooker, apparently feeling that nothing else needed to be said.
“The what?” The conversation was starting to get away from me. Clearly, there was something in the papers I had showed Gino that was casting doubt over my rights to be here. My inability to understand Italian was beginning to be a significant hinderance. I made a mental note to fully commit to learning Italian in the coming months, BBC course be dammed.
Gino looked at me as if he was talking to a toddler.
“A vineyard is where you grow the grapes for the wine. The winery is where you turn the grapes into wine.” He also spoke to me as if he was talking to a toddler…
I now recalled that the solicitor I had spoken to had mentioned something about a winery, but I had assumed that was just another way of saying vineyard. Clearly things were a bit more complicated than they had first seemed.
“So, where is the winery here?” I asked, feeling it was better to get as much information as possible at this stage.
Gino pointed towards the outbuildings I had just been exploring.
“All this. The storage buildings, the presses, the vats. Most important-the licence.”
“The what?” What on Earth did a licence have to do with wine?
Gino’s talking-to-a-child look was back.
“The licence to make and sell wine and to have tastings on the property. Without that, all you have is,” he waved his hand in the direction of the window, “grapes.”
“And that’s not a good thing?” I realised that my lack of wine making knowledge was equalling my lack of Italian in my list of problems.
Gino shrugged his shoulders.
“You would need to find someone to buy the grapes,” he said
“But there is a winery here? My grandfather did make wine?” I had a horrible feeling we were going around in circles.
“Si,” was Gino’s response. This man-of-few-words act was getting annoying.
“So, what’s the problem?” I pressed, determined to sort this situation out finally.
“Senior Aliberti did not leave the winery to you.” Gino replied, that slight hint of a smile returning.
“How do you know that?” I asked, but I had a horrible feeling I knew what was coming. Gino showed me the papers once more.
“He left it to me.”
I looked at the paragraph he was indicating. Like the rest of the papers it was written in Italian but I was able to make out two words very clearly.
Gino Bianchi
The name was printed there, in a paragraph full of Italian that I couldn’t understand. I looked from the papers to Gino himself and then back to the papers. What I suddenly expected to find there I had no idea. At some point I would make sure I got my hands on a proper, full, English translation of the papers, but until then it seemed I might as well take Gino’s word for what they said. It did not feel like he had much to gain by lying.
“Well, I’m glad we have established that my grandfather left me this house and his vineyard.” I choose to focus on the positives. “With that being said, perhaps we can continue this discussion tomorrow when I have had more time to study the paperwork.” I wanted Gino to know that I wouldn’t just accept everything he said without double checking it first.
“Si, we will talk tomorrow. I will come after I have met the solicitor.” I had no doubt he would be very prompt.
“Ok, I will see you tomorrow then.” I stood up as tall as I could make myself and nodded towards the door, happy to have firmly established myself as the legal owner of the house at the very least. Gino slowly walked towards the kitchen door and let himself out. I followed, eager to make sure that he actually left and didn’t spend more time digging around the outbuildings. I didn’t want him to start feeling at home there. I was not happy, therefore, to see him cross the cobbled stones towards the fields rather than making his way around the house and down the drive. He opened a small gate in the wall that led into the vineyards.
“Where are you going?” I called after him.
Gino turned to face me.
“Home,” he replied in his now familiar mono-word style.
“Where do you live?” I asked, having a feeling I would not like the answer.
Gino pointed towards a small, stone cottage that was located a few yards into the field.
“There.” Gino walked in the direction of the cottage, leaving me stood by the door of the kitchen, watching his disappearing figure.
Well, this situation was just getting better and better.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
