Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics (29 page)

Claire shivered in excitement. It was just so wonderful. They worked their way up to the side altar to see the wood carving of
St. John the Baptist
by Donatello and another painted masterpiece by Bellini before taking seats on one of the heavily carved benches in the monk’s choir section. Now people were arriving and the space was filling rapidly.

“I can’t believe this art is just sitting here,” Millie whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Where are the guards? Aren’t they worried about theft?”

Claire shook her head, she didn’t know. At home, treasures like these would be locked away. Even in San Marco’s she had seen numerous custodians guarding their treasures, while here this painting was just as it had been installed, in the place of honor over the altar, centuries ago. It was wonderful.

But when the music started they were transported. It was a small section of the Milan Orchestra along with a group of guitarists. And there was a choir and soloists. The audience was held spellbound until finally the music ended and they silently filed out into the dark streets of Venice.

“That is what all concerts should be. That is how all churches should be used. That music and the beauty of that church make you feel there is a heaven,” Ruth whispered as they walked through the dark shadowy streets, really only lanes, toward their hotel.

Millie just smiled, nodding, not even wanting to speak, afraid it would break the spell the music had spun over them.

“Jack, thank you for taking us. That was a real treat.” Ruth’s voice was slightly above a whisper now. The further they got from the church the more the spell was broken for her.

“Don’t thank me. Claire saw the notice at the museum and thought it would be a nice experience. We got the information at the Tourist Information Bureau when we came to meet you.”

He looked at Claire. “It was great. It’s the kind of thing your friend, Lucy, would have suggested if we had been in England.”

Claire nodded. “Lucy would have loved it. I hope I can describe it adequately so she’ll understand how wonderful it was.” Then she shrugged. “Maybe it’s another of those things you just have to experience.”

“The soprano was magnificent.” Millie was still smiling. “Can you imagine being able to sing like that? You know I’ve always wished I believed in re-incarnation.”

“What? Why?” Claire was surprised at her mother’s comment.

“Because it would be nice to think that you could come back again.” She looked at her daughter as she added seriously, “I would like to come back next time with a voice like that. Wouldn’t it be heavenly to stand in that beautiful old church, in front of that Titian masterpiece and open your mouth and have that wonderful voice spill out?”

Ruth laughed. “Well, if I had a choice I think I’d come back as Tuffy-Two.”

“You’d come back as a dog?” Millie shook her head. “A dog? What kind of life is that?”

“I think that little dog has it made. What a life! Claire, Mrs. B and all the customers dote on it and Theroux, the cat, protects him. People feed him, walk him, play with him and rub his belly every time he rolls on his back. It looks like a life of ease to me.”

They all had to laugh except Jack, who only knew the original Tuffy who lived with the Lickmans in Maryland.

“What about you, Claire? What would you like to do?”

Claire looked at Jack. “You know, I kind of like it just as it is. I know that sounds dull, but truthfully, I love my life. And what adventure I do have is more than enough to satisfy me. Actually, I wouldn’t mind a little more dullness.”

Jack nodded. “Well, I don’t believe in re-incarnation so I don’t even think about doing it again. Once is enough for me.”

Then they started talking about their plans for the next day. They would be leaving for home the following day, so they needed to get the most out of their day as possible.

Their hotel was just ahead when Jack, apparently reluctant for the evening to end said, “It’s really not late. How about trying a Bellini at Harry’s Bar?”

“Uh huh, not me. I’m operating on too little sleep right now. I’m looking forward to bed. Thanks anyway.”

Millie shook her head, agreeing with Ruth. “You two go on. We’re ready for bed. We need a good night’s sleep so we can do everything we have planned for tomorrow. Just tiptoe when you come in, Claire.”

Claire and Jack watched them enter the hotel and then turned towards the bar. Claire said, “I’m surprised. Ruth is usually ready to party until the last person drops. They must have been up late last night.”

“Well, maybe they were just being nice and giving us some time together.” Jack slipped his arm around her waist as they moved through the night.

It was quite early, but both Sister Marie Terese and Senora Sorenson were at the desk, smiling warmly, as they checked out.

“Please, you will come again?” Sister Marie Terese said, obviously proud of the words she struggled so hard to say.

“We had a wonderful time.” Millie indicated the pile of baggage, boxes and totes near the door. “We shopped too much in Murano.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Claire chimed in. “Grazie,” she said to Sister Marie Terese.

“Come on,” Ruth called from the door. “Jack’s here with the water taxi.”

It took a few minutes to get everything safely stowed on the taxi and get settled inside the small cabin before the taxi driver made his way through the fog shrouded canals.

“This is a much better idea than trying to transport all this stuff on the vaporetti, Jack. Thanks for suggesting it.” Claire had been warned about the cost of the water taxis, but Jack said with four of them sharing the cost it was actually reasonable to travel this way and much more convenient. And as he insisted on paying the whole tab, it was going to be very inexpensive.

Claire tried to drink in the sight of Venice as they passed the picturesque palaces, their outlines now softened by the fog. She wasn’t able to resist snapping a few last pictures. She hated to leave. Venice was truly a unique spot and, she sighed remembering the gondola ride in the inky night, very romantic.

“I loved Murano. I know I bought too much, but it was all so beautiful.”

“Not all of it. I can live without some of those ornate chandeliers we saw.” Ruth made a face.

“Well, you’re right. Not all of it. But that one place we found with all that aged glass, which looked like bottles dug up from archeological digs, was fabulous. And I loved all those little colored bottles.”

Ruth nodded. “And those wine glasses Claire bought were exquisite. I hope they arrive safely.” She didn’t trust the mails and had insisted on carrying the pieces she bought on the plane.

Claire shrugged. “They’re insured and the shop will make them good if they do break. I think we all have to take a lesson from Jack.” She gestured to the one backpack Jack had. He obviously traveled very lightly.

“How do you do that, Jack?” Ruth was curious. “I’ve seen you for three days now, so I know you’re not wearing the same thing each day.”

Jack smiled. “Almost. Two pairs of trousers, one I wear. I have a Windbreaker that’s waterproof, a jacket that doesn’t wrinkle, and three shirts. One of those I wear. Same goes for underwear and socks. And an extra pair of shoes. I have a comb, razor and toothbrush. What else do you need?”

The three women looked at him amazed.

“I think life is much simpler for men,” Millie announced.

Ruth nodded. “Must be. I was so proud of myself for only using the one wheelie bag. And even then I cheated by getting one that has a gusset which can be unzipped so the bag stretches to a larger size.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s too much trouble to get those on and off trains, boats and buses. The backpack is the way to go.”

Ruth shook her head. “It’ll never happen. Women just need more stuff. But I admire your style.”

Claire almost spoke up about traveling with Kristen with only a backpack, but remembered in time and made an inane comment instead. She could understand why Jack traveled so lightly, but Ruth and her mother didn’t even know what Jack did. So they didn’t understand his work didn’t allow for the luxuries they thought they had to have. He only wanted to get from place to place alive. He didn’t need travel guides, skin lotion, dress up clothes or swim suits. And she had found out she didn’t need them either. But she didn’t intend to travel that way again even though she now knew she could.

“And that place we had lunch was perfect. What a find. Did anybody get the name?”

They all looked at each other, then Ruth laughed. “Well, we won’t be ruining it by telling everyone about it, will we?”

Claire shook her head, thinking that she might be able to describe its location if she wanted to recommend it. Jack found it for them. He had taken one of the workers at the last glass factory aside and asked him where to have lunch. Finally when the man understood they didn’t want to eat at the restaurants along the canal which catered to tourists, he told them about a favorite of the locals. They would have never found it without instructions. It was down the street from the factory, through a passageway between a bar and some other shop, which brought them out into a garden set with tables, some under a roof extended from the building, some out in the blazing sun.

It still amazed Claire how the Italians seemed to love to soak up the sun. She had seen it all through her trip. She would look for the little pools of shade to walk in or sit in, while the Italians sought the sun. Some even had jackets thrown casually over their shoulders as they basked in the rays of mid afternoon, obviously unaware of the risk of melanoma.

They had claimed a table in the shade and had a leisurely, sumptuous, reasonably priced lunch amidst the crowded garden. The hearty red wine was served in little pitchers. The plates of pasta were heaping, the pasta tender and the sauce divine. And the bread, unlike the rolls which they had for breakfast at the hotel, was fresh, light and yeasty. They were happy to while away the afternoon until it was obvious the family who ran the restaurant was trying to close it.

They picked up their purchases, which were being packed for travel, caught the vaporetti and returned to Venice to see as many of the sights as they could crowd into the rest of the day. Claire was happy to find there were no cruise ships moored on the wharf today. Consequently the piazza San Marco was relatively empty and much easier to navigate with only the pigeons to watch out for. All in all it had been a great day.

“Jack, I’m so glad Claire ran into you. You have been a valuable addition to our group.”

“Say nothing about my assistance with the luggage.” Jack laughed, knowing what he said was true.

Ruth nodded. “The best way to travel would be to have a porter with you. When we came to Venice on the train there was a very old, very smartly dressed lady with many pieces of luggage, who boarded the train outside of Florence. But she had a young girl traveling with her. The teenager was obviously to fetch and carry. She struggled to get the luggage on and stowed, and then she was sent down to the bar car to get her patron a drink. She barely had time to sit before we arrived, and then I saw her trying to unload everything.” She smiled. “It looked like a wonderful way to travel to me.”

“Unless you were the young girl,” Millie commented.

“Well of course, I would want to be the patron. You know, like we all think if we lived in yesteryear we would be the privileged class. No one wants to be the servant, even though that’s probably the stock we came from.”

They all laughed. Ruth was absolutely right.

“So, Mom, what about this offer of an internship in New York? Did Chef Martin offer it to everyone?” Claire asked, remembering the conversation at dinner last night which had been interrupted by another story.

Ruth and Millie looked strangely at each other and then Millie smiled at her daughter. “No, actually, I think he only offered it to me.” She blushed. “I guess he was impressed with my skills.”

Ruth laughed, saying cryptically, “I’d say.”

Millie frowned at Ruth. “It was very nice of him. I really don’t know if he offered a spot to any of the others. He may have. It was very generous of him, but I’m sure I won’t be taking him up on it.”

That comment initiated a lively discussion with everyone contributing their opinion.

But Millie just shook her head. “I really don’t think I need it for the type of cooking I plan to do. But I promise I’ll think about it a while before I finally make up my mind.”

That would have to satisfy them all as they had arrived at the Marco Polo Airport dock, and here porters were waiting eagerly to help them with their luggage.

“Millie, I can’t believe you haven’t said a word to Claire about what happened at the Retreat.” Ruth shook her head as she settled into her window seat for the long flight to San Francisco.

Millie sat beside her on the aisle. She had tucked her book, her knitting and a bottle of water in the little pocket in the seat in front of her and had just pulled out the airline magazine to peruse. “It was hard. I caught myself a dozen times. And I appreciate your cooperation. I know it was hard for you with your motor mouth.” She smiled gently at her friend of so many years.