The Secret Love Letters of Olivia Moretti (Meet Me in Italy, Band 2) - Softcover

Buch 2 von 4: Meet Me in Italy

Probst, Jennifer

 
9780593332894: The Secret Love Letters of Olivia Moretti (Meet Me in Italy, Band 2)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 059333289X ISBN 13: 9780593332894
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

A secret romance sends three estranged sisters to the Amalfi Coast to follow clues about their mother’s past, and challenges them to a whole new future, in this emotional novel from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst.
 
Priscilla, Devon, and Bailey haven’t been close in years, but when the sisters are forced to come together to settle their mother’s estate, they discover a secret.  In an old trunk, they happen upon ownership papers for a house on the Amalfi Coast, along with a love letter to their mother from an anonymous man, promising to meet her in Italy during the summer of her sixty-fifth birthday.
 
Now they’re questioning everything they knew about her history. In order to get answers about the woman they thought they knew, they’ll have to go back to where it all started. The sisters embark on a trip to the stunning cliffside village of Positano, Italy, to track down the mysterious ex-lover, and figure out who their mother really was.
 
As Priscilla, Devon, and Bailey unearth the truth, they also experience the magic of Italy, the power of sisterly love, a little unexpected romance, and newfound hope for the future.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jennifer Probst is the New York Times bestselling author of the Billionaire Builders series, the Searching For . . . series, the Marriage to a Billionaire series, the Steele Brothers series, the Stay series, and the Sunshine Sisters series. Like some of her characters, Probst, along with her husband and two sons, calls New York's Hudson Valley home. When she isn't traveling to meet readers, she enjoys reading, watching "shameful reality television," and visiting a local Hudson Valley animal shelter. Follow her at JenniferProbst.com.

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Chapter One

Priscilla

Priscilla Hampton wondered if every daughter who buried her mother suddenly became swamped with regrets.

She'd never been one to question her decisions or linger on actions she'd taken that couldn't be changed. But staring up at her childhood home, facing the task of cleaning out her mom's personal belongings, she was pretty much sick with what-ifs.

The overly large Tudor house still seemed as if it was judging her as she walked up the curvy pathway leading to the sweeping arched doorway. Pris had never liked the way the two giant windows gave off an eerie yellow glow from the sage-green stucco, like eyes stuck in a deep-set face. The balcony dead center reminded her of a flat nose and had been the bane of her mother's existence-a perfect escape route for teen girls to sneak out at night. The lower brick should have lent an elegant, timeless tone, but it all ended up looking like a mishmash of old and new. Still, it was the only family home she'd ever lived in. After the divorce, Dad had given the house up without a fight, moving on and moving in with his newest love interest. She'd blamed him, of course, until she realized her mother hadn't seemed to care, which somehow made Pris angrier with her than with Dad.

It would've been easier if Mom wanted revenge, or insisted her daughters hate him. Instead, she'd snatched Pris's right to bitterness and swept all the messy emotions away with her usual sunny smile, encouraging them to have a healthy relationship with Dad and not worry.

Did her mother ever get exhausted by the endless pursuit of perfection? Always having to be nice, and forgive, and put everyone else first without resentment?

Pris trembled as she thought of her beloved mother alone in her hospital bed. Once again, refusing to ask for help, hating to bother anyone with her issues, even sickness.

And dying alone.

A wave of emotion battered her body, so Pris held her breath, sensing she was on the verge of either a breakdown or a breakthrough worthy of an O Magazine feature article.

Her sister bumped her from behind and Priscilla stumbled forward. "Dude, you're blocking the pathway. Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

Pris shot her an annoyed look. Her fleeting come-to-Jesus moment departed faster than a conservative trapped in a room with liberals. "I was thinking."

Bailey rolled her eyes and kept walking. "No time to think. I've gotta be at open mic tonight."

The sound of her middle sister's voice floated in the air with a tinge of annoyance. "Really, Bae? We cleared this day to pack up Mom's stuff and be together. You can't even hang with us for one lousy evening?"

"I gave you my day. Don't pretend if you had one of your important meetings that you wouldn't ditch us without a thought."

"Maybe for a job I get paid for," Devon said. "Not to read some crappy excerpt of another poem you'll never publish."

Pris tried not to wince, but once her sisters got going, not even a naked Jason Momoa could stop them.

They stepped through the carved mahogany doors together, their shoulders deliberately bumping, while Pris trailed behind.

"Real nice," Bailey said. Her sleek golden ponytail bobbed in protest. "Go ahead and judge my life, but at least I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not."

"And I'm not wasting mine doing nothing worthwhile while I pretend to search for meaning," Devon retorted.

They'd just arrived and it was starting already. Her temples throbbed with the beginning of one of her migraines. Not today. She refused to let them hijack this day for their familiar arguments. When they'd been younger, Pris had been jealous of her younger sisters' close relationship. Being five years older than Devon forced her to be the leader, even though Devon had always been bossier. But like everything else, Pris had taken on the role believing that was what was needed. It also erected an invisible barrier between her siblings she'd never been able to overcome. "Guys, can we just focus? The estate handlers come tomorrow, so all we need to do is Mom's bedroom. They'll take care of the rest."

"Feels weird to think nothing will be here," Dev said with a sigh.

"Did you ever wonder why Mom never sold this place?" Pris asked. "She always complained it was too big for one person."

Bailey waved her ink-stained fingers in the air. "Us, of course. She told me once there were too many memories to ever give it up. Maybe I'll move some stuff in and live here."

Devon snorted. "Don't think so. You'd turn it into some hostel for your broke friends. We'll sell it and split the proceeds like Mom wanted."

Bailey huffed with her usual drama. "Mom always said I could have the house if I wanted. I bet she'd rather have it stay in the family."

"Did you get that intention in writing?" Dev asked, her gaze sweeping over the spacious foyer to the crystal-dripping chandelier. Pris could practically hear her brain clicking with how much they could get for the place. Her role as tenured professor in the finance department at NYU was impressive, but she had a tendency to see things in stark black and white. Money was serious business, and Devon had made sure they all agreed to sell so everyone would get a fair share.

"Seriously? That's messed up," Bailey said.

"So is this." Devon's gaze cleared, her hazel eyes glinting with a new hardness Pris had never seen before. Like there'd been additional layers that crusted over during the years they'd grown apart. "Let's not pretend this is what any of us want right now."

"Mom's death?" Pris asked, her insides clenching at the rising tension in the air. They formed a semicircle together. A memory flashed of the three of them ready to play hide-and-go-seek-squeezing into a tight knot while they picked who'd be it, back when they not only loved but liked one another.

"No. Being together. I'm not playing the role assigned to me, okay? So, let's just agree to tackle the house piece by piece without getting all sentimental for things that no longer exist."

Even Bailey sucked in her breath, a shadow of pain flickering over her delicate features. "Why are you so cold?" she whispered.

The air shimmered; softened; quieted. Pris waited for the answer too, wondering when the real turning point had been, when they'd decided being apart was better than trying to make the fragments of each of them fit into one clear puzzle. Two years ago? Five? Or had their relationship deteriorated so slowly no one had cared enough to count?

For a second, Dev opened her mouth and the words hung unuttered in the air, like an overfull balloon ready to pop.

Then she turned and the moment floated away.

"We better get started," Devon said.

They watched her climb the grand staircase and disappear.

Bailey muttered something under her breath. "I need to use the bathroom," she said, marching down the hallway. Left alone, Pris looked around, wondering if her mother's presence would show itself. A brush of cold air. A sound. A wave of charged energy that announced Mom's arrival to help smooth all these jagged edges between her children.

But nothing happened. Just a terrible empty sensation in the pit of her stomach and a familiar tension behind her eyes.

Pris dragged in a deep breath, set her shoulders, and headed up the stairs.

chapter two

Devon

Dev muttered a curse under her breath and opened the first empty box. Why did she have to act like such a bitch? At least when Bailey lost her temper, people accepted it as her artistic streak. She'd grown up with her parents shaking their heads at Bailey's tantrums as if they were amused. But when Devon lost it? She was called ugly and out of control.

And right...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2022
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
059333289X
ISBN 13 
9780593332894
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
384
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Europaallee 1
Bad Hersfeld
36244
Deutschland

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