To Tuscany with Love (30 page)

After they raced through the Galleria finding the highlights of the museum, they headed for a tiny ristorante that sat in the shadow of the Duomo. The packs of Americans—who always lunched at noon—had come and gone. The tiny space held no more than a dozen red-cloaked tables under the awning and another dozen inside.

Jet lag hit Bella, and she sank onto a vinyl-padded metal chair with relief. A twenty-something, longhaired Italian beauty passed out menus, took beverage orders, and then retreated into the dark recesses of the restaurant.

Meghan straightened in her chair and opened her menu. “We should order when she comes back. I think they want to close soon for the afternoon.”

Lee opened his menu. A sheen of perspiration capped his forehead. He sighed. “What’s on tap for the afternoon? The Duomo is open, as is the Uffizi, although we may want a day for that. If we go separate directions, I’ll visit the curator of a Leonardo da Vinci treasure discovered here in Florence. I’m hoping to see it while we’re here, and we’ve been exchanging e-mails.”

“Not me.” Rune stretched his arms over his head. “I’ve done my museum deal for the day. Hell, I’m done for the week. I want to check out the enotecas. I want wine, a place to sit,” he grinned, “and, if I’m lucky, interaction with the natives.”

“Shopping and exploring,” Hope said. Her brow furrowed with determination.“The Uffizi is too much for today. I say we browse artisan streets and shop in places that don’t close for the afternoon.”

“I’ll shop with you, if you want company,” Bella said. “You’d come with me?” Hope’s face reminded Bella of a puppy craving affection.

“I’d love to. Meghan, want to join us in our quest for merchants who are open?”

Meghan shook her head. “No, I think I’ll find steps somewhere and relax. People-watch.”

Rune chuckled. “Pigeon-watch, you mean.”

Their waitress appeared at the table. She set down liter bottles of aqua naturale and glasses and opened the two bottles of Chianti Riserva that Rune had ordered.

“
Grazie
.” Bella smiled at the woman.

“
Prego
.” The woman kept her head lowered, attentive to her task.

“We lived in Firenze thirty years ago,” Hope said to their waitress. “A man named Pino worked in this restaurant then. Do you know him?”

Their waitress stopped filling glasses and straightened. She held the wine bottle in one palm. “Pino? He’s my uncle. He’s here every night, passing out limoncello and our own liquor made with bay leaves. He is the boss now. Did you know him well?”

“I loved that bay leaf liquor.” Meghan smiled at the younger woman. “We knew him well enough that even though we were students, Pino gave us as much of the liquors as we wanted, on the house.”

Hope snorted. “We paid for it with our lasagna consumption.”

“Then you should come see him. We are closed Monday. Come any other night.”

“Your English is very good,” Lee said.

“Here,” the woman gestured at the Duomo, “it has to be.” She shrugged. “English, French, German. Let me put your order in. My father, the chef, gets cranky if he doesn’t get to close on time.”

Giacomo leaned forward to scan his charges. He smiled at Hope. “In the direction of the Uffizi and Ponte Vecchio, I suggest Ciancibella for handmade jewelry and Bella Arte for beautiful handmade objects, the Ponte Vecchio itself for gold, of course, and Tesoro, across the river on Borgo San Jacopo. This tiny shop carries some of the most beautiful jewels in the city. I will check their store hours.” His index finger tapped the cellphone resting under his palm.

Hope grinned. “No need. Just give me directions and I’m ready to wander. I can window shop if all else fails. Trust me,” she said, patting her large leather bag, “I’ve got my husband’s money to spend, and I plan on doing just that. I’ll find shops open.” She winked at Bella.

“For you,” Giacomo said to Rune, “there is a reasonable enoteca near where we were earlier, Enoteca Tre, on Via degli Alfani. I’ll give you directions after lunch.”

The wine relaxed Bella. A warm haze settled over the table.

Citing a piece they saw this morning, Lee launched into a description of the restoration processes used on paintings and marble. Only Meghan and Giacomo appeared to be listening.

Underneath Lee’s voice, Bella heard the sounds of the piazza—voices in passionate conversation, church bells, scooters, and cars. The fragrant mingling smells of meat, tomato, garlic, and baked cheese brought her focus back and made Bella realize she was hungry. The young waitress placed plain white pasta bowls in front of them all except Meghan, whose lunch was a small vegetable salad.

Bella savored the delicate noodles of her pappardelle with rabbit and porcini. “I tried to cook rabbit at home. Deboning it was more of a challenge than I imagined. And mine never tasted like this.” She closed her eyes on the next bite. It melted over her tongue.

Murmurs of delight rounded the table.

Meghan picked at her salad, dressed with only vinegar and oil. Her words burst out over the table, too loud for the moment. “After Karen’s daughter was killed in a car accident, I turned vegan. First I lost Karen, then her daughter. I decided to do all I could to be healthy.”

Rune paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I don’t call that healthy, sweetheart.”

Bella shot Rune her parent “disapproval” glare.

He responded by topping off Bella’s wineglass. “You need to loosen up. More of this will help.”

Bella pushed her wineglass away. She looked at Meghan. “Is it difficult finding adequate protein?”

Before Meghan could answer, Giacomo raised one hand in the air in front of him, smiled, and nodded. “With your permission, Signora Meghan, I have a place to show you after lunch. I think, perhaps, you would enjoy this shop very much.”

Meghan shook her head. “No. No, thank you. I’m tired. Sitting and watching people. That’s what I’ll do.”

“You’re tired because you don’t fuel the engine.” Rune gestured to Meghan’s salad. “Rabbit food sucks.”

Hope swatted Rune’s shoulder with the back of her hand.

“No problem.” Giacomo smiled at Meghan. “I’ll keep you company, then.” Meghan lowered her head. She stirred her salad with her fork.

Bella ate too much—over half her entrée, far more than normal. She glanced at the other bowls. Everyone but Meghan had demolished lunch. Stillman met Bella’s eyes, lifted his wineglass by the stem, and sipped the last swallow of his Chianti.

Rune reached for the bottle to refill Phillip’s glass, but Phillip shook his head. “No thanks. One of the boards I’m on, dealing with therapeutic sports for the disabled, meets today, so I’ll phone into it. I would duck out if it was business-related—especially now—but this is one board I never miss. I need to prepare this afternoon, so I’ll head back now. I apologize in advance, Stillman, but I may miss dinner, too, depending on how long the meeting goes.”

Bella remembered that Phillip had told her about his disabled sister, who had died at a young age. He had carried a picture of her in his wallet. No doubt, his sister was the reason he was so dedicated to this organization. So the man had a heart after all.

Stillman nodded at Giacomo. “You’ll arrange a car to drive Phillip back to the palazzo, correct?”

Giacomo nodded quickly.

“Good,” Stillman said. “I’ll join you, Rune, at Enoteca Tre. I’ve read great reviews about the place but haven’t had a chance to check it out myself.”

The knot in Bella’s stomach had returned. Her deception clawed at her. There would be no chance to confront Phillip today, which meant she couldn’t bring up David to Stillman or anybody else. Bella felt as if a major league pitcher had just fired a fastball into her chest.

35

A
t nine o’clock that evening, Bella stepped inside the ristorante. The low, arched ceilings made it feel like a cave. The pale colors of the rough plastered walls hinted at long-ago frescos whitewashed by well-meaning owners. Sixteen white-cloth-covered tables filled the room with Manhattan bistro proximity.

Lee paced around the center table, his hands clasped behind his back. A heap of fruits and vegetables covered the table with no apparent design. “Arcimboldo’s
Summer
, don’t you think?”

“Archee what?” Rune asked.

“Exactly my thought, Rune.” Stillman walked to the tables pushed together to accommodate their group. “The art is in the preparation of the food, not the garden.”

“It’s a painting.” Lee claimed a chair on the side opposite Stillman. “He created faces out of clustered produce.”

Bella slipped into a chair next to Stillman. In her peripheral vision, she saw Lee beckon for Meghan to sit next to him, which sent a pink flush up Meghan’s cosmetic-free cheeks. Rune and Hope entered the room and slid into the open seats next to their friends.

Elderly waiters appeared from the kitchen carrying trays with Prosecco and champagne glasses. Again, Meghan declined the bubbly.

“Is Phillip coming?” Rune asked.

Stillman looked at his watch. “I suspect not. He’ll miss a great evening.” He nodded to Bella.

Rune lifted his glass, making a show of inspecting the color. “This looks richer than what we had the first night.” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Or did it just gather dust in the cellar for a few more years?”

“And when did you become a master sommelier?” Bella’s words sounded harsh, even to her. “Oops. Sorry how that came out.”

Rune winked at Bella. “You’re mighty quick to defend our host.”

Stillman raised his Prosecco, all smiles and warmth. “To our long overdue reunion.” His eyes shot to Bella’s, as if insinuating that he spoke only to her.

Bella tipped her glass against Stillman’s. She felt Rune’s eyes on her. She didn’t care. She had a history—a recent history—with their host. The night before, with the Tuscan stars winking at her, she had drifted to sleep remembering Stillman’s passionate lovemaking during their last weekend together.

Platters of crusty Tuscan bread spread with a thick brown paste appeared before them.

The most weathered of their waiters, no doubt the owner, announced the appetizer.

“Wild hare crostini,” Bella interpreted. “It smells heavenly. Forest meat of the season.”

The proud gentleman motioned for them to eat. “
Cioccolato
.” His kissed his fingertips.

Hope claimed one for her plate and chuckled. “Even I can translate that. Meat mixed with chocolate—now that’s my kind of appetizer.” She eyed the platter and waited for it to circle the table. When it returned to her, she snatched a second piece.

Bella’s sympathies went to Meghan, steadfast in her refusal of meat.

As if sensing Bella’s thoughts, Meghan smiled at her and mouthed her words: “It’s OK.”

Bella turned her head. She couldn’t look at Meghan when she bit into the crostini. She closed her eyes and savored the delicate yet decadent flavor. The pâté melted on her tongue, and the toasted crunch of the bread provided a perfect texture contrast. And the hint of chocolate? Definitely an undertone that added complexity. Poor Meghan, she had no clue what she was missing.

Giacomo bounded into the ristorante, flustered and flushed. He rushed to Stillman’s side. While he whispered to Stillman, one of Giacomo’s hands gestured behind his back. Stillman nodded several times in the brief exchange.

Giacomo stood and spoke in hushed tones to the waiters. He grabbed a chair from another table and wedged it between Meghan and Lee.

Lee scowled.

Grinning, Giacomo sat down and twisted on the chair to face Meghan.

The wait staff swooped away the appetizer plates and, moments later, slid small bowls of steaming ribolitta, a bread, bean and vegetable soup, in front of each of them.

“Can I get it without the bread?” Meghan asked.

“Oh, signora,” Giacomo said, patting Meghan’s arm, “not to worry. The bread in this soup is perfect for your vee-gan diet.”

Lee spoke in a soft, authoritative tone. “You only had that bit of fruit from the market after lunch. Traveling, with exposure to unfamiliar germs, is an undetonated bomb. You have to eat if you want to stay healthy.”

Meghan shook her head. “Do they have minestrone?”

Giacomo conferred with a waiter in Italian. He patted Meghan’s arm. “No, no, signora, only this soup today. Please, you should try it.” He looked sideways at Lee. “It is very nourishing.”

Bella raised a spoonful of the thick soup to her mouth—delicious and hearty. If she ate more than a spoonful or two, she’d be done for the night. Across the table, Meghan filled her spoon but avoided any morsel of bread.

With the spoon halfway to her mouth, Meghan paused and looked at Giacomo. “What about meat? In the broth?” Giacomo’s hands flew in front of him in denial. “No, no. No meat. Just vegetables.” As Meghan put her spoon into her mouth, Giacomo’s eyes shot over to Bella. The ferocity in his eyes silenced any rebuttal she might have uttered about the contents of the ribolitta.

Meghan dipped her spoon into the bowl again, this time without hesitation. She smiled at Giacomo.

“Thank you for the delicious vegetable soup.”

Bella tasted the soup again. The spicy smokiness of pancetta added complexity that could never have come from vegetables alone. She smiled at Giacomo and affirmed their conspiracy. She agreed with Lee about Meghan’s diet.