Chapter 34
LUCY
The beautiful, dreamy Christmas feeling that’s hung over the last few weeks is gone. It’s like I’ve woken up and found myself in some horrible dystopian landscape a masochist decided to decorate.
It’s Friday afternoon, and there’s no sign of Enzo. I haven’t even talked to him since Wednesday.
All I know is this: He left a voice message on my phone yesterday afternoon saying he’d call me later, something that didn’t happen. But he did call the café. He left a message with Wayne, who covered the phones so Eileen and I could go check on Audrey next door.
“Sounds like he got the job but wasn’t planning on taking it,” Wayne said. “I couldn’t hear him properly, though. It’s possible he said, ‘I’m definitely taking it.’”
“That is very unhelpful, Wayne,” Eileen said disapprovingly, to which he shrugged.
“Not one thing I can do about my hearing.”
He said this while wearing a switched-off hearing aid in his ear, but I was too emotional to make a retort.
Thursday evening, a text came through from Enzo, and I nearly dropped my phone and gave it another spiderweb crack when I saw it: a photo of Enzo wearing a Santa suit, with a text saying, At my new job, Lucia.
I waved my phone at Eileen almost hysterically. “Does this mean he took it?”
“And they made him dress up as Santa before sending him along to fire people?” Eileen asked. “I wouldn’t put it past those New York types, but it would be exceptionally cruel, and I’m not convinced it makes sense.”
“Maybe he’s three sheets to the wind,” Wayne suggested unhelpfully. “Or four.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like the type who’d think it was fun to wander around looking like an idiot.”
“Wait right here,” Eileen told me, her expression firm. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
She returned minutes later with Giovanni. But he hadn’t heard from Enzo either, and neither had Nico or Nonna Francesca.
Giovanni was sweet, and I spilled all my concerns about Enzo to him.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Lucy,” he said, patting my hand.
“Don’t you worry. But I’ll tell you this.
Enzo wouldn’t take that job without talking to any of us.
I know my brother. He’d ask them for time to think about it.
And then he’d do the right thing and say no.
He’s crazy about you. I’ve never seen him happier than he is with you. ”
That had made me feel better, but I still finished my shift in a daze. Eileen asked me if I wanted to go home with her to crochet and make hot chocolate, but I said no.
Instead, I wandered to the Wishing Bridge.
This time I only wished for Enzo, with all my might, sitting at the edge of the bridge and throwing tiny stones over the side—until someone yelped.
Apparently the frigid weather hadn’t made it less of a make-out spot.
My landline rang right after I walked through my front door. I lunged to answer it, certain the Wishing Bridge had worked its magic, but it was Charlie, calling because she was worried about me.
I lied and said I was fine, then called Enzo’s number three times. Nothing. So I took a sleeping pill and fell into an uneasy sleep, only to wake up at three in the morning.
I instantly reached for my cell phone and found a message from his number:
Men are better off without women. Period. Women lie and they cheat and they hold men back. They’re all like Shannon, and he’s better off without you. Sorry, but that’s true.
I texted back multiple questions marks, but there was no response. The message obviously wasn’t from Enzo. Even if he was drunk, he wouldn’t say something like that and mean it.
So who had his phone?
Had something happened to him?
Or had he gone out drinking to celebrate his new job, and one of his friends had written me a kiss-off?
I didn’t sleep any more that night, but I couldn’t focus on anything, my mind skittering around like a wet spider.
Today has passed in a horrible haze. Because there’s a CLOSED sign in Hidden Italy’s window, Nonna Francesca isn’t at home, and Giovanni’s cell phone isn’t ringing.
“There must be a logical explanation,” Charlie insisted after showing up at my apartment early this morning to check on me. But she didn’t offer any other explanations.
The Bermuda Triangle might as well have swallowed the entire Cafiero family. It was weird, and we both knew it.
I sent several more texts to Enzo’s phone before Charlie and I left my apartment for the Sip, but there was no answer.
“It’s okay,” Charlie said when she saw my furrowed brow. “Someone clearly stole his cell phone.”
“The possibility that he was mugged does not make me feel better.”
No, it just gave my fears more to chew on.
When we went into Love at First Sip, Eileen suggested I take the day off, but I refused. I needed something to do.
Enzo was gone. I didn’t know what had happened to him or his phone or his family.
I might never see him again…
In the early afternoon, Amanda stopped in to get a couple of lattes. She took one look at my face and asked me what was wrong.
Ignoring the childish compulsion to say everything, I smiled and said, “It doesn’t seem to be my day.”
“Are you coming to the holiday dance later?” she asked.
I’d forgotten there was one. I just shook my head.
Concern creased her perfect face. “Go back to the Wishing Bridge, Lucy.” She surprised me by pulling me in for a hug over the counter separating us. “I really feel like there’s magic there.”
“I will,” I said, my mouth as dry as paper. All the water in my body seemed to be in the vicinity of my eyes. I wanted to cry but refused to. Because if I did, it would be like admitting that the worst had happened.
The hardest part was that I was worried about him and also worried he’d abandoned me. That he didn’t care after all. That everything I’d dared to hope for had been a lie.
Now, it’s two o’clock, and we’re closing early by dictate of Eileen.
“We are going across the street to get some spiced cranberry cider,” she says. “No arguments.”
I don’t try to argue. I can’t. I don’t know what I want—probably not cider, but I feel incapable of even voicing a protest. I feel a horrible powerlessness. I have no way of reaching Enzo, no way of knowing where he is or what he’s doing.
No way of knowing if he still wants me…
All I know is that he told me he’d be home today, but New York City is at least eight hours away, so the earliest he could be back is three or maybe four o’clock this afternoon.
“All right, let’s go,” Wayne says.
“You’re coming?” Eileen asks in disbelief.
“Yes,” he replies simply.
And he does, sitting with us at a high-top table by the large front window in Kippis. The oversized Christmas tree in the town square is in full view, dressed in all of its splendor. It feels wrong for it to look like that. So beautiful. So cheerful.
The tears are close, but I still don’t let them fall. Not when my friends are trying so hard to cheer me up.
“To Lucy,” Charlie says, lifting her cider.
To my surprise, Wayne lifts his cup along with Eileen. “To Lucy.”
“Who is nothing at all like Shannon,” Charlie adds.
“Very funny,” I grouse.
“Sorry,” she says. “But you’re not. And I think we can all agree that someone probably stole Enzo’s cell phone. But he’s a big, strong man, and I’m sure he’s fine. In fact, I’ll bet whoever took his phone is going to have some serious regrets about it. Enzo will be coming back anytime now.”
“Tree’s fallen across the road into town,” the bartender calls out. “So any of you expecting out-of-town guests might want to call them.”
Crap.
Abandoning my cider, I head up to the counter. “The road into town’s really blocked?”
“Sure is,” he says. “The mayor and his family are working with the crew to get it open before the town dance. Not a great time for us to get blocked off. Say, you heard from Enzo?”
“No,” I say in a sour voice.
He lifts his hands defensively and turns to a different customer, not that I blame him. I wouldn’t want to deal with me either.
I head back to the table.
Charlie purses her lips. “The messages seem to be on a delay today. I sent one to my parents earlier, and it still hasn’t gone through.”
Tears press at my eyes again, wanting to be released.
“I just need to know that he’s okay,” I say, finally letting some of them fall. “If he’s changed his mind about me, that’s fine. I understand.”
“Give me your cell phone,” Charlie says and presses her mouth into a tight line.
I do, and I watch as she types a message to Enzo’s phone: Did you hurt Enzo? If so, get ready to have your skin peeled from your cowardly hide.
“You said the messages were on a delay,” I say, tears streaming down my face.
“Oh, he’ll get it eventually. And he’ll respond. I promise. If the dude is this afraid of Shannon, he’ll definitely answer a message like that. He’ll squeal like a little pig.”
“Let’s talk of happier things,” Eileen says. “Why don’t we each share a lovely Christmas memory?”
Wayne rolls his eyes, but I notice he doesn’t attempt to leave.
Later, Eileen encourages me to come to the dance and keep her company. “We’ll drink cider and listen to music and think happy thoughts. Your man is coming home, my dear. I feel it.”
I wish I felt it.
I go with her, because I might as well go with her. There’s nowhere else I want to be, nowhere that will make me any less miserable with worry.
At the town dance, there’s no sign of any Cafieros, even though the road is now open. So while the rec center is decorated beautifully and full of holiday cheer, I’m cold and numb inside.
My phone finally buzzes in my purse. I pull it out eagerly and discover a message from Enzo on the spiderwebbed screen:
Oh, shit. I’m sorry. This is Barry. I’m on this epic bender, and I took your dude’s coat by mistake because it was in my cubicle at work. And, yeah, I’m sorry. No need to get violent, man. A woman did me wrong, but it wasn’t cool for me to speak for Lorenzo.