Chapter 49
Esther’s villa is set in lush, formal gardens, a grand four-story affair that commands the hillside with views of the mount and the bay, and the sea. It’s faced in red clay with a green sloping roof. Inside it’s cool, tiled and airy.
She tries to get me to move from the hotel and stay up there with her. I resist, partly due to the fear that I would never leave. Back in Seattle, I have a life, and I have a future planned. I know that I’ll need to fight for them, though. Every day that I’m away, that seems more distant and harder to face.
We sit on her cool terrace sipping limoncello, and we talk about books. I confess to her, “I read a lot of romance.”
“Who doesn’t,” she says, sounding hungry. “Don’t put yourself down for anything you read, mouse. It’s the world of feelings. Emotions. Connections. There’s a thing called emotional intelligence. Men could sharpen up if they read some romance.”
The sea and the sun are behind her so I can’t read her face as she watches me.
“Are you in love, darling?”
I can’t answer her. I can’t speak. My throat clogs and my chest tightens, and I feel the prickle of color in my cheeks. I shake my head.
She never once mentions the fact that I’ve basically stalked her, a total stranger, halfway across the world, even though she knows. We have a real connection between us, and that’s enough. She says we’re “Simpatico.”
And she says, “Oh, but it’s nice to relax and speak some English again.”
I tell her, “I wasn’t sure if my Italian was going to get me by.”
“And has it?”
“It’s been bumpy. A rocky road. But people are nice.”
“Yes.” She looks at me over the top of her sunglasses. “If you’ve make the right effort, people like to help.”
When I finally got a call from Carlo, it came from some unknown number. I looked at my phone and I was going to reject the call, but something, a twitch, made me answer.
His voice was like rich caramel poured in my ear and I could hardly sit still while he talked. It nearly melted me. As soon as I heard him, the formality in his tone told me I needed to stay businesslike, even though I wanted to gush and be flooded by the nearness of him.
He said, “I need to see you.”
I waited, hanging on for one more word. Would he call me Lucia, Lucy, or Lucrezia? The thought of him saying, ‘Princess,’ made me chew my lip, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
There was a bulky and jagged silence when he didn’t say any more. Just ‘I need to see you.’ Still. It was a start. A door opening.
“I’ve tried to call you.” I didn’t say how many times.
Another silence.
Then he said, “Can you meet me on Friday afternoon?”
I called Daddy to get the plane sent for me.