Orvieto

This is part of my novel, Orvieto. I would love your opinion.

Allesandra held her dad’s picture. In a gold frame, a precious memory of his caring smile. No matter how many years passed, she remembered his wish for her mum to have contact with Aunty Bella.

Since her remission, the decision to get in contact grew from a seed of an idea to holding out an olive branch.

‘This might not work, I know that, but Mum needs this,’ she said, as if his arms held her hesitant shoulders. ‘She has a sister but doesn’t speak to her. If me and George were at loggerheads, she would be the first one to bang our heads together.’ Allesandra smiled, replacing his frame back on polished pine.

She recovered a small orange, glass bottle from the top of her writing desk. Tiny in her palm, its careful curves fit into her fingers perfectly. Her dad’s treasured cologne. With an earthy aroma of Sandalwood, Bergamot, and lemon, it was infused with love.

Arms wrapped tight, she breathed in her dad’s kindness. A few dabs on her wrists, she nudged the lid back into position.

 ‘What do you think? Would Mum thank me? I argue with George; all the time. We always make up, even if it is a little bit strained at first. I cannot imagine mum having a sister and not speaking to her.’

Having a familiar conversation carved clarity in a chaotic battlefield.

Blue paper, and a matching envelope were shifted on to the front room table, she picked up a black fountain pen. It seemed impersonal to write a message on Facebook. Her aunt deserved more than that.

it would ultimately be her choice to open it.