“Sì. He is selecting roses shrubs.” His shy smile turned into a full-fledged grin and he motioned to the pot he was carrying. “Today we start the planting of your garden.”
“Formidable!” I clapped my hands in glee and returned his grin with one of my own, feeling calmer, now that—it seemed—no one knew anything about what I had done with Salvatore. “What can I do to help?”
“He’ll surely have some tasks for you, milady. I must take this to the truck now,” he said, motioning with his chin to the huge pot which was in his hands, and walked away to a truck which was already half filled with various saplings.
I couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing how he would react and I made my way inside the hothouse, crossing with Marcello Vigna, another gardener assistant, who had his hands full of
