2
Julia packed her sweater in her roller suitcase, which lay open on the bed. She’d canceled dinner after the terrible news of Kay’s murder, and her in-laws and Fiamma had gone home with the food. She was booked on the next available flight to Philadelphia, which left tomorrow morning.
The cool night air drifted through the open window, carrying the earthy smells of the vineyard and the flutter of nightbirds in flight.
The bedroom was softly lit, one of the larger rooms in the villa, which was centuries old.
The place was a ruin when she’d inherited it five years ago, but its restoration was finally finished.
They’d repainted the bedroom a light blue, refinished the original hardwood floors, and restored the frieze on the ceiling, which depicted Duchess Caterina Sforza, an ancestor of Julia’s and the only female ruler during the Italian Renaissance.
“Okay, Leni’s asleep.” Gianluca entered the bedroom with a weary smile. “I got away with only two books.”
“Way to go.” Julia looked over, and on any other night, his looks would’ve taken her breath away.
She’d fallen in love with him at the Marucelliana Library in Florence, where he was director.
Gianluca Moretti was handsome in the intellectual, refined, and artsy way of Florentine men, with large brown eyes, a strong nose, full lips, and thick, wavy hair the color of espresso, which he kept longish.
He was lean in a fitted black V-neck T-shirt, slim jeans, and Chelsea boots.
Julia had finally gotten used to the fact that her husband dressed better than she did.
“How are you?” Gianluca came over and kissed her on the cheek, and Julia caught a fading whiff of his spicy cologne.
“Okay. How’s Leni?”
“Fine.”
“Is she upset I’m going?”
“She didn’t say anything. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Julia had told their daughter that she was going away for a few days, during bathtime earlier.
Leni had absorbed the news without a fuss, but Julia knew that the concept of time was lost on three-year-olds.
Mother and daughter had never spent a night apart, but Julia hoped for a minimum of separation anxiety, on both their parts.
“How long will you be gone for?”
“Until the funeral at least. I’m not sure, okay?”
“Of course, and my parents will help.”
“Great,” Julia said, relieved. She was lucky because her in-laws were retired and they loved to babysit. They’d been incredibly helpful during the renovation, too, staying in a cottage on the property from time to time, rather than driving home to Florence, about forty kilometers away.
Gianluca’s expression darkened. “Julia, I have to say, I’m worried about you going, after the premonition. You remember last time, that’s how it began.”
“With Mike’s murder, I know.”
“Yes, and this time it’s around another murder.”
“I know that, too.” Julia flashed on what had happened after her premonition last time.
She’d begun to experience nightmares and visions, flashes of things that had yet to happen or of things that had already happened, like the truth of a buried secret.
She’d felt like she was going crazy and wondered if she had psychic abilities.
She’d even gone to a renowned medium, Helen Davenport, who’d confirmed that Julia had some psychic ability, but Julia had been so shaken by the possibility that she hadn’t followed up.
That was five years ago, and she’d had no other visions, or premonitions. Until today.
Gianluca looked concerned. “So what will you do if the visions come back? It could be happening again.”
“I don’t know, maybe they won’t. Maybe it was just this premonition, one and done.”
“But last time, it was more.”
“I guess, but maybe it’s not the same.” Julia didn’t know if she was bullshitting him, herself, or both of them. “Nothing weird has happened all this time.”
Gianluca frowned slightly. “But it did, today. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not, but lots of people have premonitions. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to have visions.”
“It did before,” Gianluca said, gently.
“I know, but we don’t know if it will definitely happen again. I don’t know any of it. I mean, I don’t know if I’m really a medium. I haven’t felt anything since before Leni was born.” Julia heard her words quicken their cadence. “I’ve been happy. I’ve been normal. I’m normal now.”
“I’m not saying you’re not normal—”
“If I’m psychic, I’m not normal.” Julia shot back, and Gianluca placed a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ve discussed this, sweetheart. It didn’t mean you weren’t normal because you had premonitions, or visions.”
“Of course it does.” Julia felt her chest tighten. “Do you have premonitions? Visions?”
“No, but—”
“Well, then it’s not normal.” Julia could see that he was just trying to help, so she dialed it back.
“The thing is, I don’t like getting premonitions, and I certainly don’t want to have visions.
Not once every five years, not even every ten years.
They make me feel different and not in a good way. Weird. They are weird.”
“We can’t possibly know what will happen, you’re right.” Gianluca blinked, his hand still on her shoulder. “But we can talk about how you would deal with it if it does happen, don’t you think? Wouldn’t that help you?”
“Yes, I guess so.” Julia reflected that her emotional Italian husband could be a calming force when she wanted one, which she loved about him. Every marriage needed a Voice of Reason. “So what will you do, if the visions return?”
“I don’t know,” Julia had to answer, honestly. The prospect shook her to her foundations.
“You remember how they affected you last time, how destabilizing? You lost your way.”
Julia felt her face flush. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I couldn’t control today that I got the premonition. If it happens, it happens.”
Gianluca frowned more deeply, his dark eyebrows slanted down. “Then is going to Philadelphia a good idea?”
“Are you saying you don’t think I should go?” Julia asked, surprised.
“No, I’m not, I know you love Courtney.” Gianluca met her gaze with frankness.
“But consider this. You told me that today in the kitchen, the thought popped into your head to call her. What if your premonition didn’t start when you were on the phone with Courtney?
What if it was why you called her? Maybe you knew that her grandmother was about to be murdered. ”
Julia swallowed hard, wondering if he was right. Her thoughts after the call had been so confused that the notion hadn’t occurred to her, but it made sense. She rarely called Courtney, who had a busy schedule. It was usually Courtney who called her.
“When you called Courtney, you could’ve delayed her going in. If you hadn’t called, she could be dead now, too.”
Julia inhaled, horrified. The thought of losing Courtney chilled her to the bone.
She didn’t want to believe that she had the power to prevent a murder.
Or, if she got it wrong, failed to prevent a murder.
Maybe humans weren’t meant to know everything, at least she wasn’t.
Julia reached for Gianluca, wrapping her arms around him and feeling the muscles in his back under his thin T-shirt.
“Here’s my fear, cara,” Gianluca said softly, hugging her close. “What will happen if you get mixed up in helping Courtney—”
“I want to help her.” Julia released him, torn. “Her grandmother was murdered. I know how that feels, and I can’t let her go through it alone.”
“But murder is something for the police. It could be dangerous.”
“I’m not going to Pennsylvania to solve a murder.”
“Aren’t you?” Gianluca narrowed his dark eyes. “Last time, you helped figure out who killed Mike. You helped the police.”
“That’s true, but that wasn’t my goal. You remember how it was.
I was just trying to understand what was going on in my own brain.
I thought I was losing my mind.” Julia hated the way she sounded, like a freak, all over again.
She turned away and zipped the suitcase closed, hoping to end the conversation.
“Look at me.”
“What?” Julia looked up at him, pained. Oddly, ashamed.
“I’m on your side, cara.” Gianluca moved his hand to her arm.
Aw. Julia’s throat caught.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Julia rallied, straightening. “But I have to go. I’ve made my choice. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Okay, but promise me you’ll be very, very careful, and if you start to have visions about the murder, you’ll go to the police.
You’ll tell them, and you’ll let them handle it.
Promise?” Gianluca looked down at her, his expression grave and his tone turning vaguely professorial, which was a librarian thing she loved about him.
“Of course, I promise,” Julia answered, meaning it.
“Thank you.”
“I love you. Did I say that already?”
“All the time, but I get it.” Gianluca smiled warmly, and Julia felt the urge to kiss him, but he looked like he wanted to say something more.
“Well, I need to ask you something. I was going to wait to bring it up, but since you’re going away, I have to put the thought in your mind.
” Gianluca hesitated. “My parents would like to move into the cottage, and I think it’s a good idea.
They’re here so often, and it doesn’t make sense for them to keep their house in town.
They could sell it, put the money away, and live in the cottage. ”
Wait, what? Julia hadn’t seen this coming. She knew she had to choose her words carefully. Gianluca loved his family, and so did she, but living with them was another matter. “Really?”
“Yes.” Gianluca searched her face to gauge her feelings, but Julia didn’t know them yet. Mostly, surprise.
“When did this happen?”
“They mentioned it the other day.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d discuss it with you.” Gianluca blinked, his gaze earnest. “My father insists they pay rent. It’s your villa.”