My Treasure Chest: A Family Saga Set in Italy

By Caren Von See

Have you ever been to Italy?
Have you ever been in love?
Well you’re in for a treat.
My Treasurer Chest is both a romance and a family saga about a recent college graduate, Antonio, and a young lady, Sara, who, ordained by the stars, meet at an Italian restaurant in New York City. Their romance is sparked when Sara’s hand glances Antonio’s as she sets his tab on the table.
Following their whirlwind romance, Antonio and Sara are joined by Antonio’s three best friends, Dante, Filippo and Giovanni, as well as Sara’s sister and maid of honor, Bethany, and her twin brother, James, who gives his sister away.
After clearing out their apartments in New York, Antonio and Sara pack the remainder of their belongings in crates, and ship them to Italy.
Life settles into a new sense of normal for Sara and Antonio after they move to Italy. Sara is introduced to Antonio’s family and a host of new characters, including Ava, the sweet, loving cook, Antonio’s ornery brother, Angelo, and the boy’s beloved Uncle Lorenzo.
Antonio hires an architect who draws up plans and hires a staff to renovate the estate house as Sara slowly grows accustom to her new Italian family and life on a beautiful estate and winery in the rolling hills of Tuscany.
Along with building a new life together, Sara and Antonio start a family. Sara’s first child is a determined daughter whom they name Abriana, after Antonio’s Great Aunt. Two years later, the family is in an uproar when Sara gives birth to twin boys, whom they name Georgio and Giovanni after Antonio and Sara’s fathers.
Life is not without its ups and downs. It is unpredictable--at best. But in the end, it is a journey full of love, laughter and loss.
Thank you for joining me on this journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Oct 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781982235314

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

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Sara often recalled, with vivid clarity, funny or significant moments in her life. Tonight, she soon learned, would be no exception.

After completing her studies at Parson’s School of Design in New York City two years ago, Sara chased her dream jobs, one in medieval architecture and the other in the conservation of medieval antiquities. Thus far, she’d been unsuccessful, which compelled her into taking a late night job waiting tables at a family-owned restaurant. Giorgio’s Ristorante held a favored status with college night owls for its sidewalk café, relaxed atmosphere, excellent Italian food, and wines.

She followed her daily routine prepping tables for the evening customers. Before the first patron sat down, she glanced up at the moon and smiled. Tonight feels different. Her internal compass was seldom wrong.

Sara enjoyed working the outdoor tables amid the friendly, carefree crowd. Among tonight’s patrons was a young Italian man with three friends whom she learned were celebrating his plans to return to his ancestral home in Italy in October. The lilt of his voice and his accent sparked her attention, though she didn’t understand a single word of Italian.

When she asked for their orders, he gazed at her and grinned, not just with his mouth, but with his eyes as he stared at her curly red hair and freckled face. For an instant, he became her whole world. Time floated past Tongue-tied, Sara, blinked and glanced away. Their connection lasted just a moment, then Sara’s world returned to normal. Oh my God! What just happened?

He behaved in an elegant, refined manner, which was an appealing change from the usual boisterous students who frequented the bar. Moreover, as it turned out, he tipped well too. Their romance started when Sara’s hand glanced his as she set the tab on the table. His eyes darted up and captured her gaze. After paying the bill, he made excuses to his friends and found Sara waiting on customers and clearing tables.

He stood back observing her interaction with the delighted patrons. Her smile and curly red hair drew him in like a magnet. With well-tuned precision, Sara set delectable dishes before various patrons who often waved the aroma up to their face and said yum! When they finished their meals and paid their bills, Sara, with a basin placed on her tilted hip, gathered and clattered plates and silver into the bin. She then topped off the tumbled mess with the wine glasses, which she balanced like delicate, crystal candlesticks on top. After clearing the table, Sara set the bin on a chair, whisked up the tablecloth and napkins into a rough bundle and clamped them under her arm. She picked up the container again and carried everything to the back entrance. She turned her backside toward the door and bumped it open.

When she came out to clear another table, the young man walked up behind her, cleared his dry throat and asked, So, why is a beautiful, young lady like you waiting on tables rather than enjoying a night out on the town?

Sara glanced up, shrugged her shoulders and kept clearing away dishes as she said, Oh, you know—paying bills, trying to find a decent job—mundane stuff.

"Would you do me the honor of sharing a bottle of wine. I’d love to chat with you when you finish working.

Sara paused, stared into his dark eyes, considered his offer, and contrary to her nature said, Sure, give me a few minutes to finish here.

I’ll be over there, he tilted his head, sitting on the bench around the tree.

As he walked away, Sara admonished herself. What are you doing? You know better than this, but he’s so handsome, and he has a killer smile. Goosebumps raced down her back as she cleared the last table and bundled the tablecloth and napkins. She entered the kitchen, set the bin on the stainless steel rollers, nudged it on it’s way to dish-washing, and shoved the linens into the canvas laundry cart. With her hand on the edge of the back entrance to the bar, she stuck her head around the door and said, All done, Ralph. See you tomorrow.

Ralph peered up, "Right, love.

Sara smiled and closed the door. She stepped into the bathroom, rinsed and dried her face, fluffed her hair, and pinched her cheeks. She leaned in closer to the mirror with her hands on both sides of the sink. Well, here we go. Are you ready for this girl? Maybe. We’ll see. She smiled at herself again. Sara strolled over to the tree and sat on the bench. With their knees almost touching, she faced the young man, stuck her hand out and smiled, Hi, my name is Sara.

He nodded and smiled as he lifted her hand, bent forward and kissed the back of it. A soothing sensation tickled his stomach as he watched her amazed reaction with an enormous grin on his face and cavorting eyes. Bona Noche, Miss Sara. My name is Antonio.

Sara’s blinked, should I run away? Not on these trembling legs. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat tickled like dry sagebrush.

So, what do you want to do with your life, Miss Sara? It is Miss, isn’t it? He held his palm out. Would you care to walk?

Yes, Miss is correct. And, yes, I’d be delighted to walk with you. There’s a bar around the corner. Tommy keeps early morning hours. Would you care to share a glass of wine at his place?

He smiled at her again. God, What a terrific smile! And those eyes. Her knees wobbled.

So, are you a student burning the midnight oil? he asked.

Sara shook her head, No. I completed my masters in Medieval Architectural last year, and I have a minor in Renaissance Art. I’m biding my time until I find work in my field.

What type of job are you seeking?

They sat at a patio table.

Recognizing Sara, the owner himself came out to serve them. What’ll you have, Toots?

I’ll take a light white, Tommy.

Sara flipped her palm out,and introduced Antonio who smiled, Bring a bottle, please.

You bet, doll. I’ll be right back.

Sara chuckled and watched him flip a towel over his shoulder as he plodded into the bar.

Well, to answer your question, I could work at a dig or perhaps at a museum.

Antonio clasped his hands, meshed his fingers and set his forearms on the table edge.

Indeed! Fascinating! He grinned. Have you ever considered moving to Italy?

What? I…ah, Sara blushed. Antonio laughed at her startled expression. They chatted under the stars until about two A.M. when Sara gave her excuses. I have to go. I’m job-hunting till mid-afternoon tomorrow, and I’m scheduled to work at the restaurant in the evening.

If you insist, il mia amica, although, we could play. He shook his head no, Let me find the correct word. With his elbows on the table, he struggled with his English. What word? Vacation? No. Escape? No. Ah yes, hooky. He leaned in closer, tweaked his eyebrows, and in a low, husky voice said, We could play hooky tomorrow. Yes?

Sara shook her head, I’m sorry. I’d love to, but I can’t break my appointments.

He held his hand on his chest, stifling feigned emotions as he wavered from side to side. My heart, it is broken.

Sara couldn’t help smiling, I am sorry, she said, as she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He grasped her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the back of it again. While his eyes held her attention, his kiss lingered longer than custom dictated.

He placed his other hand on hers as they rose. Antonio spoke in a yearning, tender whisper, May I escort you home?

Sara smiled, and waved her arm toward the street, That’s not necessary. I live around the corner.

With a sad face, Antonio delivered a talented performance. He swept one arm across his midriff, as he swung his other arm out to the side, and set one foot forward. Playing the perfect role of a true thespian, he bowed in a grand gesture as he whispered, Per favore, amore mia. He stood before Sara with a teasing twinkle in his eye. It is the custom in my country that Italian men always escort their lady home.

Blushing, and on the verge of laughter, Sara said, Ah…o…okay.

Anxious and somewhat confused, they strolled beside one another in a silence so profound, one could hear a pin drop. When Antonio and Sara crossed a street, he would reach over and insert her arm in his. When they reached her apartment building, she paused. This it it. This is where I live.

Antonio smiled, linked her arm in his, and walked her up the steps. Before they parted, his sad expression made it quite clear that she had no choice. She had to rescue him.

Sara pulled a small pad and pen from her pocket, jotted her phone number down, tore it from the pad and handed it to him. Call me after two o’clock. They gazed into each other’s eyes and lingered a moment. Call me. I’ll meet you here tomorrow at two-thirty. She pressed the buzzer, and a dry voice said, Yeah.

It’s Sara. The lock clicked. She returned his smile as he reached up and opened the door. Gazing into his eyes, Sara paused for a moment, Do I invite him up? No—not yet. She smiled at Antonio, turned and slowly walked through the door.

I don’t know how he feels, but I feel like a dove soaring above the clouds.

When Sara stepped out of the elevator, she swung her arms out and pirouetted down the hall to her door.As she unlocked it, she recalled her earlier intuition. It held true as usual. Sara smiled.

CHAPTER TWO

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Antonio called at 2:30 as Sara suggested. After chatting a moment, Sara invited him to stop by her apartment. Startled by the buzzer, Sara stood as the book in her lap plopped to the floor. She rolled her shoulders and flung her palms down toward the floor. Go slow, she thought. Sara stepped to the door and pressed the intercom button. Yes?

It’s Antonio. May I come up?

She pressed the buzzer. I’m on the fourth floor. I’ll wait by the door.

She leaned against the doorframe and pondered. I wonder where our relationship is headed Antonio is a sincere man. Our conversations are exciting and fun. Can I picture spending the rest of my life with him? I believe I can. Her stomach flipped when he stepped out of the elevator. I know I can. God, he’s handsome. Sara smiled. Antonio beamed.

She welcomed him at the door with a quick hug, and then turned toward the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable. There’s wine on the counter. Would you care for a glass?

Si. He walked to the bookcases and traced a finger across the bookbindings as he read the titles. Your apartment is similar to mine—eclectic. You have several interesting books here."

Thanks, said Sara as she carried a tray of red wine, glasses and a basket of assorted fruits and cheeses to the small table in front of the sofa.

She realized what he was going to do before he did it. Antonio waited for Sara to sit, leaned forward, lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. She peered into his eyes and smiled. Encouraged, he sat beside her, laid his right arm across the sofa back, and caressed the nape of her neck. Holding her other hand in his, he leaned forward and caressed Sara’s sweet lips with a tender kiss.

A lifetime Star Trek fan, Sara understood resistance was futile. Antonio shifted to the middle of the sofa, pulled her toward him, and helped her adjust the small of her back against his thigh. When Sara was comfortable, she gazed up at Antonio’s face. The mounting sexual tension was palpable and genuine. He held her face in his hands, leaned forward, and caressed her lips with another kiss. Heat on the wings of a breeze drifted through the window to heighten their fervor. Sara’s enthusiastic response grew eager as Antonio drew her in with eyes adoring every feature of her face. The lilt of his voice and his gentle strokes intensified their desire. Antonio’s passionate embrace captured her heart. He sealed their fate with another kiss as their passion grew to a feverish fulfillment.

Sara and Antonio were inseparable. She stopped her job search, played hooky, and they made love—often. She couldn’t resist his charm, nor his attention. He courted her with a sincere, selfish craving, which Sara returned in equal measure.

Six weeks later, Sara’s younger sister, Bethany, stood beside her as her older brother, James, gave her away. Goodness, I’m so nervous. I wonder what our life will be like in Italy.

Ordained by the online Universal Love Ministries, Giovanni, one of Antonio’s many friends, performed the role of their pastor. He played a taped version of The Italian Wedding Song, faintly in the background as Antonio and Sara celebrated their impulsive nuptials.

They shared their vows in a white gazebo beside the Hudson River in upstate New York. Sara wore an enormous grin and beautiful white silk, A-line shift with a wreath of Lilies of the Valley in her curls. Antonio recaptured her heart as he stood beside her in his black, Italian-made, silk suit with a Lily of the Valley sprig in his pocket. He grinned as he thought, Two weeks before we leave. I can’t wait to introduce her to my family.

Following their shared vows, friends and family joined them for brunch at their favorite Italian restaurant where they first met. Filippo, Antonio’s best man, kept them laughing with his quick tongue and antics. He clinked his glass with a piece of cutlery, and stood, with his glass raised.

As others followed suit, Filippo toasted, Today, Miss. Sara Rose Haley became Mrs. Antonio Vitali. He paused, with a big grin and scanned the happy faces peering up at him. To Antonio and Sara! To the happy couple and my dear friends! Congratulations! Well done! Tons of happiness for your future! And best regards always! Saluti a te!

Antonio and Sara escaped through a shower of rice. They drove to Maine where they spent a passionate week in a coastal cottage in Bar Harbor on Mount Desert Island. Observing a childhood habit and hoping to make their decisions about what to do easier, Sara made her way to the visitor’s center to select some brochures. While lying in bed, she read the pamphlet about the first inhabitants, the Abenaki Indians to Antonio.

It says here their tribal name means ‘people of the dawn.’ They coexisted as part of the Confederacy of the Algonquin Tribes; which disbanded in 1862.

Interesting, said Antonio as he walked his fingers up her belly to…she brushed his hand aside. Stop that. I’m trying to read here.

But—I, his rakish grin grew as large as his craving. I would rather… Sara tossed the brochure aside.

Charmed by the historic Victorian homes from bygone days gracing the small streets, they snacked their way thru the delightful town from one eatery to another. As for dinner, their favorite spots were a small fish and chips shop and their cozy room.

They strolled everywhere visiting the national park, the lighthouse, and Cadillac Mountain. During the day, they explored the island, and at night, each other. Their desire deepened as they embraced their yearnings. Sara mused, it’s true, Italian lovers, are depicted the world over as passionate lovers. Without exaggeration, Sara decided Antonio was a devoted romantic. They drank wine, ate strawberries with whipped cream, and smothered each other with kisses, as they learned each other’s secrets. Though reluctant, they returned to reality and their apartments in New York City.

CHAPTER THREE

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Antonio suggested the two of them tackle financial and medical issues first. Since Sara had never traveled abroad, she followed his lead. They purchased airline tickets, ordered Sara’s passport, and received their required vaccinations. Even though he understood the challenges of dealing with Italian bureaucracy, and held dual citizenships in the U.S. and Italy, Antonio intended to wait until they returned to Tuscany to renew his driver’s license. They purchased Euros, transferred bank funds, and closed all unnecessary accounts in the U.S., with one exception. They kept the credit cards accepted internationally to pay for their travels.

Over the next two weeks, they cleared out and cleaned both apartments. Since Antonio had fewer personal belongings than Sara did, they tackled his apartment first. Anxious to return home, Antonio made quick work of boxing and shipping two large cartons of books and personal belongings to his banker in Italy who made storage arrangements. After completion of the final inspection, he turned in his keys and received a check, the return of his security deposit.

Sara, on the other hand, felt excited, and yet fearful. She agonized over the memories associated with her personal belongings, which made her decisions much more difficult.

Eager to move on, Antonio suggested, I’ll do it for you if you can’t.

Sara gazed into Antonio’s eyes. You’re going home. Of course, you’re excited. I am too, except I’m leaving my home and family behind. You’ve painted an idyllic picture of Italy. The truth is, I don’t know what to expect, and I’m scared. Be patient, Antonio, I’ll get it done in time.

Two days before their departure, they double-checked their lists making sure they’d completed all the necessary steps. They donated books to the college library and unnecessary items to a thrift shop and shipped four cartons of Sara’s belongings to Antonio’s banker as well. Satisfied, Sara turned in her keys, received her deposit, and they moved to at a hotel near LaGuardia Airport so they could catch the shuttle to the airport

Packed and ready to travel, the night before their departure, Sara was too excited to sleep. She lay awake fantasizing about her new life in Italy. As a child and young adult, she’d hiked almost all of the National Parks in the U.S, though she dreamt of traveling to Europe. Restive, Sara switched positions several times, fidgeted, and went to the bathroom—nothing worked.She decided to coax her body to sleep. Okay, toes relax, and Sara waited until her muscles eased. Feet relax, ankles relax, etc. She didn’t even make it to her knees.

Their Aer Lingus flight flew into Milan where Sara and Antonio changed to an Easy Jet flight into Fiumicino Airport in Rome. Late departures due to weather, dawdling people, luggage transfers, security and runway delays, extended their travel time to just over ten hours. They took the train from the Fiumicino Airport to Rome and checked into a delightful B&B.

Antonio surprised Sara with eight days of sightseeing in Rome, and because Sara didn’t speak Italian, he arranged for an English-speaking chauffeur. Emilio was a well-versed, well-educated man who drove them daily to their chosen destination as he shared details of the location they were to visit that day. Antonio purchased two pre-paid phones from a drug store so they could communicate with Emilio.

As Emilio drove, he shared stories and details about Roman history, as well as the monuments they visited. When asked to stop, he’d drop them off so they could continue their sightseeing. Often in the late evening, and weary from walking, they’d call Emilio to pick them up. He accommodated every request.

Both Sara and Antonio found it difficult to contain their delight and excitement. They often walked hand in hand, as Antonio pointed at various monuments and revealed the city’s hidden secrets. They toured Rome, ate truffle pizza, and drank Italian wines while building precious memories. They walked for hours during the day and suffered the joys of evening foot rubs.

Sightseeing created special memories for them to treasure. They threw coins in Trevi Fountain, toured the Vatican, and walked the Spanish Steps, the Forum, the Coliseum, and the Pantheon. Antonio took Sara to see her first opera, LaTraviata. Sara’s emotions rose and fell with every step as she savored the enchantment, beauty, and antiquity of the age-old sights. Overwhelmed with emotion, Sara often reflected, I am walking where Caesars and Popes have walked.

Because of her interest in Renaissance art, Antonio took Sara to see the magnificent treasures of the Borgias Museum. After entering and exploring her first Italian church, they never passed a church without Sara insisting that they go in to view the magnificent artistry. She rejoiced in the antique artwork, sculptures, gilding, and the incredible spectrum of Italian marble floors. While standing in the narthex of two different churches, they intruded upon a wedding and a christening.

Squinting into the darkness of the next church they entered, Sara felt her strength and stamina leech away. Emitting sinister energy, her intuition honed in like radar on the events that took place in this particular church. Why? It’s not just grief-stricken memories that plagued me. It’s images of the Inquisition and the Black Plague. Again, why? Did members of my family die here?

Droplets of stagnant air clung to Sara’s skin. Without thinking, she swiped the moisture away and clasped her arms around her chest to protect herself. Time seemed to stop, as her heart labored to push blood through her throbbing temples. Gasping for air, Sara found it difficult to breathe as if the oxygen seeped away.

With her eyes full of tears, Sara reached out and squeezed Antonio’s arm, as she said, I have to get out of here. As she continued to gasp for air, she said, I—I can’t stay here. I have to get out. Now!

Antonio tried to wrap his arm around her, but Sara darted toward the door, into the fresh air. She leaned against an adjacent building, and closed her eyes, grateful to escape the disturbing images and overwhelming sadness. Her chest rose and fell with each quick breath she took. Concerned and patient, Antonio’s eyes never left Sara’s face. When her breathing became more comfortable, she swallowed hard and looked up at him with frightened eyes, and shivered.

What happened?

She shook her head. I’m not sure. All I know is something horrible happened in there. It felt as if I had a massive, dead weight on my chest. And, the visions—horrible images flicked through my mind like a silent film. I saw bodies hung, tortured, and burned. Their voices lamented, ‘You’re going to die here.’ I wanted to scream, but couldn’t. It was as if I had no voice. Sara’s nose started to bleed.

Antonio handed her his handkerchief. As Sara held it to her nose, he wrapped his arm around her, Let’s sit for a few minutes. He helped her across the street to a corner bar, and they sat in the fresh air, trying to relax. Antonio went to the bar and returned with a glass of water.

He handed the water to Sara. She took another deep breath and sighed. I think I need something sweet. As a barista approached, Sara said, I want a cup of sweet tea and some cookies.

The barista gave her a searching glance and asked, Are you sick?

No, I just think a cup of tea will… Not wishing to go into any detail, I’m tired. Some tea and cookies will make me feel better.

I’m sorry, miss, said the barista, We don’t serve cookies. Perplexed, the barista stared at Sara as she pointed her pen at her chest, and said, You have a smudge on your blouse.

Antonio looked at Sara and saw what appeared to be a handprint on her chest. Sara looked down and without thinking, rubbed the smudge away. Stunned, Antonio stared at her.

She looked up and saw his expression, What?

You…. He reconsidered, That looks better, sweetie.

The barista said again, We don’t serve cookies.

Sara said, Of course…sorry. Do you serve biscotti?

Yes, what would you like?

Almond?

And you, sir?

I’ll take the same, Grazie mille.

Antonio and Sara sat, silent, absorbed in personal reflection. Concerned, he kept an eye on Sara’s face as a blush of color returned to her cheeks.

The barista returned with sweet, hot tea and Pizelles. Please let me know if you need anything else. She left the tab, turned, and walked away.

Antonio and Sara sipped their tea as they dipped and ate their Pizelles. After a short time passed, Sara said, I feel better than I did.

Your face was ashen. You looked terrified.

She held his hand in hers, "I panicked, Antonio. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been with me. You made me feel safe.

Of course, always.

Sara handed him his handkerchief.

Antonio grimaced, pinched it between two fingers, walked to the trash, and tossed it.

As the time to leave Rome approached, Antonio and Sara toured one last church. The exterior of this one looked like a crumbling adobe building. As it turned out, it was the last church designed by the master artist and sculptor, Michelangelo. Two-glass oculi looked down upon them from the ceiling. In the green, gold-streaked, marble floor lay a long, notched brass strip with embedded zodiac signs alternating from one side to the other, as well as the numbers one through thirty-one embedded next to the notches. They learned that the sun’s rays glistened through one us to illuminate the day’s date, while the moon glowed through the other oculus shining on the appropriate