To Tuscany with Love (34 page)

“Bella.” She heard Lee’s voice.

Where was he? A feeble horn tooted to her right. Bella whipped her neck around and tried to pick him out of the crowd.

“Wanna race?” Lee’s jovial tone ratcheted down her pity party.

There. Behind her in a banana-yellow Smart car. Lee’s head and arm protruded from the window. He waved at her, and a grin lit his face. “Love the Vespa, Bella.”

“Nice gas guzzler you found.”

“You, too. I’ll follow you in.” He tapped his horn again. Bella saw an opening in the crowd. Without hesitation, she gunned the Vespa and shot through. Shadows crept around the Duomo. Bella aimed for the bank of steps by the tourist entrance. She and Lee ignored all parking restrictions and left their vehicles at the base of the Duomo.

Meghan stood in front of the steps, her face tilted to the sky. Lee and Bella walked over to join her. Meghan’s hand steadied a bicycle. Bella’s neighbor, when she was a child, had a girl’s bicycle with big, dented fenders identical to the one Meghan held. Even the ratty woven front basket was the same.

“Wherever did you find this?” Lee pulled the lever of the silver bell on the bicycle’s handlebars.

The sound of the bell brought a rush of warm memories to Bella of her mother. Using their neighbor’s bike, her mom had taught her to ride. Oh, how Bella had loved to ring the bell.

Meghan giggled. “I helped the owner of a natural products store find new supply sources on the Internet.” She patted the bike seat. “The owner couldn’t believe I’d actually work to borrow this.”

“Good eeev-ning, Florence!” Hope’s voice bellowed from the window of a touring van.

Hope parked the van right behind Lee’s Smart car. She sauntered over to them and slapped Lee’s raised hand in a high five.

Meghan, Lee, and Bella all burst into laughter. Meghan hugged Hope. “You’ve certainly got us beat, at least on the creativity angle.”

“How did you pull that one off?” Bella asked.

Hope shrugged. “Dumb luck. I wandered around aimlessly for a while. Mostly, I stuffed my face with gelato and charged things to Charlie’s credit card. Then I came across this.” Her hand swept toward the van. “A group of tourists was stranded by their driver, who also happened to be their guide. A piss-poor one, I might add. Here they were, at this dive hotel: no air conditioning, no elevator, yellowed threadbare sheets, and a bathroom down the hall. Four stars? Try a measly one star. They asked him to find another hotel. First he swore at them, and then he ditched them.”

“What did you do?” Meghan asked.

“What anyone would do. I went in and sweet-talked the Italian behind the desk into booking the group into another hotel, a nicer one with private bathrooms and air conditioning. He was very willing to cooperate when I explained that one member of the tour had a highly contagious foot fungus. And, of course, he wouldn’t want that spread through his hotel via the communal bathroom.”

They all doubled over with laughter. Tears escaped Bella’s eyes. She released herself to the laughter. Bella could picture Hope weaving her tale as the unsuspecting clerk took it in.

The obnoxious roar of a high-speed motorcycle sliced through the normal evening buzz of cars and voices. A red Ducati slowed to a stop in front of them. The rider tugged off his black and red helmet.

“Nice wheels, Rune.” Lee’s tone spoke his admiration. He moved in for a closer inspection.

Meghan approached the Ducati with caution, as if mere proximity might be life-threatening.

“Splendid choice, Rune.” Stillman’s voice came from behind them.

Turning to look at Stillman, Bella saw that their own touring van was now parked behind the roped-off area on this side of the Duomo. Rested and dashing in a cream-colored silk shirt and handmade loafers, Stillman walked toward them.

The roar of an approaching engine pulled her eyes to the sound. A black Ferrari spun to a halt next to the Ducati. Phillip unfolded himself from behind the wheel and leaned—oh so casually—against the car.

Everyone except Bella and Stillman rushed to examine the Ferrari.

The sound of slow clapping made everyone turn to look at Stillman. His deliberate, hollow clapping mocked Phillip’s choice. Bella knew Stillman had grabbed the final word.

“I give the award to Hope, for bringing the most unpredictable mode of transportation.” Stillman’s voice brought quick seconds of agreement from Meghan and Lee. Phillip couldn’t care less, it seemed. He had his showy prize and didn’t care what price he had paid to get it.

Stillman moved beside Bella and rubbed her shoulder. “By the way, love, how did you get your Vespa?”

“I volunteered at a bookstore.”

“And how did it go?” Stillman said.

Bella stared at him. She had a hunch he knew something about her afternoon. Had he seen a placard for the signing? She steadied her voice before speaking. “It wasn’t quite what I expected, but I did come away with the Vespa.”

She heard the uncertainty in her words and suddenly got angry with herself. Bella didn’t need another person to validate her. The signing
had
been a success, damn it, and she should be proud of it. “It went very well, thank you. Did you see signs this afternoon for an event at a bookstore?”

“Yes, and it took all my willpower not to come and be a mouse in the corner.” Stillman wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gestured to her with his other hand, saying, “Everyone, I want you to meet the reclusive but very talented and successful author, E.V. Tate, who earned her Vespa by doing a book signing this afternoon.”

Congratulations and cries of surprised delight came from everyone. Even Phillip sounded excited in his congratulations, but Bella couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Questions started peppering her, but Bella waved them off. She wanted to turn the attention to someone else and so asked Lee, “What about you? How did you get the Smart car?”

“I gave a talk at a hospital nearby on state-of-the-art surgical procedures.”

“Good for you,” Meghan said. “I’ll bet they appreciated it.”

Lee shrugged. “I guess so. Physicians are nerds and like to talk medicine.” He nodded at the car. “But I could use one of these at home. It certainly would make parking easier.”

“And what about Mr. Playboy? Did you buy the Ferrari?” Stillman’s eyes cut into Phillip.

“No, I bartered for it, like everyone else. No money could change hands, wasn’t that the rule?”

Another Ferrari, this one red, rumbled in next to Phillip’s. A man got out of the passenger seat. Without exchanging a word, Phillip passed off his key to the man, who nodded and then climbed behind the wheel of the black sports car. The two Ferraris snaked away through the crowd.

“Well, I’m sure as hell ready for dinner.” Hope rubbed her hands together.

Stillman, with his arm still around Bella, whispered in her ear. “Do you think Phillip lied about how he got the Ferrari? We both know he double-crossed a friend thirty years ago. What do you think, love? Is Phillip the kind who would lie or break a promise to a friend?”

A millipede with icy feet marched across Bella’s neck. She had told Stillman that she and Phillip had broken up by mutual agreement. Stillman made it sound like he knew that Phillip had ditched her. And if he knew that, did Stillman suspect that Phillip had fathered David?

40

T
he next morning, Meghan and Rune stood outside the window of a shop that featured shirts and blouses of all colors. The display’s vibrant hues derailed their search for a holistic remedy shop. Meghan was surprised when Rune had suggested that they search for the alternative medicine store. He hadn’t explained why, and she hadn’t asked. Some things were private. Who knew that better than she?

Now, Rune grabbed Meghan’s hand and pulled her into the clothing store. Inside, they gravitated to opposite sides of the narrow shop. Meghan’s fingertips explored the fabrics—fine cotton and silk. The rich tones of the fall season sent her eyes skipping between the garments.

Meghan felt a presence behind her. A tiny, wizened man, the store’s owner, cradled a silk blouse of sapphire blue. He grinned under a thick gray moustache. He gestured to the back of the shop, where a parted curtain marked a dressing room.

Meghan’s hand fluttered up. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

She felt Rune’s palm push against the small of her back. He tucked the blouse and Meghan into the dressing room, despite her sputtered objections.

Meghan gasped as the cool silk draped over her shoulders and chest. The drape and line of the fabric, which crossed over in front, showed her cleavage. The color complemented her blond hair streaked with silver; it warmed the tone of her cheeks.

“Come out, my dear, before I come in after you.” Rune’s playful tone announced his intention to see her in the garment.

Her fingers trembled. The curtain’s wooden rings slid over the rod. She stepped out.

Rune wolf-whistled.

The shop owner grinned and nodded. He trotted to the wall and returned bearing four more silk blouses, some with patterns but all in colors Meghan knew would flatter her.

Rune put his hands on his hips. “You are one beautiful woman, Meghan.”

Meghan blushed. She turned to face the three-way mirror. Even her red face couldn’t detract from how stunning she looked. After wearing unbleached cotton, Meghan had to admit that she loved the look, and feel, of the silk blouse.

Meghan smiled as she and Rune returned to the street with two bags of tissue-wrapped blouses. She grabbed Rune’s wrist to check his watch. “Do we still have time? I don’t have to find the alternative medicine store. I brought all I needed for the trip with me.”

“I’m still a go. I’m, ah, thinking I should learn more about homeopathic therapy and treatments. Thought you might be able to teach me stuff.” He rubbed the center of her back with one hand and gestured ahead with the other. “It’s this way, I think.”

Meghan turned to study him. “Really? That surprises me. What do you take now?”

“Nothing. Not yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rune’s color washed out of his face.

“What is it?”

He shook his head.

She grabbed his arm. “What is it?” She knew what he would say. It had to be cancer.

“Prostate cancer.”

“Is there an alternative treatment for it?”

“I don’t know.” His voice deepened. “I hoped you could help with that.”

“Have you had surgery?”

His face flushed. He avoided her eyes. “Not yet.”

She took one of his hairy hands in both of hers but was interrupted before she could say what she had intended.

“Signora Meghan.” A male voice called to them from between the buildings. Giacomo scurried toward them, his face one-third grin. Rune’s eyes pleaded with Meghan. Giacomo glided up to Meghan. His eyes danced. He tugged on her arm.

“Come. You must see.” They followed Giacomo as he wove through narrow streets and ancient alleys. Meghan heard a drum. They moved toward the sound.

Cheering, laughter, and clapping gave way to a lilting music played on some sort of flute. The three rounded a corner and ran into a wall of people, nearly all of them women and children. Where were the men? Meghan’s eyes canvassed the street until she found them—a cluster of cashmere-coated, white-haired gentlemen anchored the street corner.

Musicians strolled by in the center of the street. A groom and a bride, who was dressed in a filmy, white, ankle-length dress, walked ahead of the musicians. The groom’s right arm extended high over his head in a jubilant wave to the crowd that lined the street.

Meghan clutched Giacomo’s arm. On her tiptoes, she strained to see the couple.

Rune’s hands circled her waist. With ease, he lifted her straight up. The last of the musicians passed them. The crowd filtered away.

Rune lowered Meghan back to the street. She felt his palm trail over her bottom. As she stepped forward, away from Rune, she bumped into Giacomo. The Italian grabbed her shoulders to prevent a full collision.

“Oh.” Meghan said, flustered.

Giacomo studied her face. “I am happy you enjoyed the wedding celebration.”

“Where are they going? To dinner?”

“The wedding and feast were yesterday. Until late hours, I am certain. Today is the feast for the closest family.”

“With a band?” Rune asked.

“Of course, of course.”

“How many people?” Meghan stepped forward to draw herself side by side with Giacomo.

“Fifty or sixty people. Just the closest family.”

But of course, this was Italy. Fifty or sixty people—just the closest family. Family. It was as if a massive boulder had fallen on Meghan. The word family reminded her of April.