Free Chianti Classico by Coralie Hughes Jensen Page A

door. She’d have to find out more about the vintner. What was his background? Did he know the nuns personally? Suddenly she stood and walked out the door. Someone had just passed by the window. She had to find out who he was.
    Sister Daniela must have been too busy to notice. She continued answering questions and handing out new assignments.

    Sister Angela spied a new picnic table on the grass and sat down on the bench. Not a minute later, a man appeared from around the corner with another bench.
    “Who are you?” she asked.
    “Gavino Abiati, the estate manager.”
    “I didn’t know the orphanage had one. How long have you been here?”
    The young man removed his gardening glove to swipe away a curl that was stuck to his forehead. “I took over my father’s business when he died about ten years ago.”
    “Do you go inside?”
    “Yes, of course, though I usually enter through the basement door when it’s open.”
    “Do you have a key for when it’s locked?”
    “Yes, of course.” He pulled up his t-shirt and showed her the dozens of keys hanging from a ring on his belt loop. Please don’t ask me which one’s for this door.”
    “I take it that means you rarely use it. Is one of those keys for the nurse’s room off the deck above us?”
    He unclipped the ring and handed it to her. “If you’re asking had I been in the basement earlier today, the answer is yes . The door wasn’t locked. I needed the bag of fertilizer that was stored in the supply closet. I passed the cloak closet. Someone had actually broken into the basement chamber. I hadn’t seen that room since I was a kid.”
    The nun’s ears perked up. “Are you saying you knew the room was there?”
    “Yes. It was my grandfather’s room. He used to sleep in it. There was another chamber where the classroom is now. It wasn’t as big, but it had a table and sink with a stove. There was a toilet off the living area.”
    “When did that change?”
    “My grandfather died in the seventies. During his lifetime, the nuns weren’t here. The building was a rooming house for veterans. There were quite a few boarders in here.”
    “Did the former residents do a lot of damage to the grounds?”
    “No. They were pretty respectful. My grandfather used to remind me that they’d been through the war and that everyone was working hard to recover from it.”
    “So did the former owner block off that room after you grandfather died?”
    “Pretty much. My father didn’t want to live down there so the owner had him board up the door. Then the nuns moved in and wanted the extra space. They had my father build the closets in front of that wall. Then they instructed him to take down a wall or two and create a huge classroom.”
    “Wait. Go back. Did you know about the secret door?”
    “Yes. I helped him put in that door.”
    “Did one of the nuns give you permission?”
    “Since the wall had been boarded up before they came, I don’t believe the nuns knew a room existed back there. My father only put in that secret door because he was positive the nuns would change their minds and ask him to increase the space even more.”
    “Did you ever open it? I can imagine how much fun it would be to pretend it was a castle or a prison.”
    “No. My grandfather died in that room. It sort of spooks me out.”
    “So you’d never come back here that night to get in through the basement door, I suppose.”
    “Of course not. There’s no one in the basement at night. It’s dark in there. Did you think I was that nun who broke in and stole the kid?”
    “It crossed my mind. You didn’t, did you?”
    “No. The nuns bring me tea and cookies before I leave every evening. I wouldn’t want to ruin that. They didn’t mention that I might have done it, did they?”
    “So your family has managed this property for decades. Are there any other secrets we should know about? How about the fence over there.” She pointed to the side yard. “The one outside the