Chapter 18 #2
Julia crossed her arms tightly over her chest. They were getting close, so close that if they didn’t discover the secrets behind this story, she thought her heart might break. “Have you asked Sophia about her granddaughter?” she asked softly. “Have you asked her about CAT’s identity?”
“Maybe she knows!” Charlie perked up at the thought.
“She’s at the bed-and-breakfast,” Gregor said, looking skittish. “We have to go through her to get to her granddaughter anyway.”
“Why are you nervous?” Julia asked.
Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want her to think I’m chasing something I shouldn’t be. I don’t want her to think I’m using her granddaughter for anything. Sophia and Marius have been incredibly kind to me.”
Julia knew it was up to her to bite the bullet, to be the hard and brash American so many Europeans thought she was anyway. She raised her chin. “I’ll go,” she said.
Before they could stop her, she was on her feet, cutting out into the billowing darkness.
It took no more than ten minutes to reach the bed-and-breakfast, and when she did, she found Marius and Sophia at the table in the main area, eating big plates of pasta and listening to classical music.
When Sophia spotted her, she leaped to her feet and said, “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here for dinner! There’s plenty. I’ll make you a plate.”
Julia couldn’t have been further from thoughts of food. She gasped for air and said, “Don’t worry about that. But Sophia, please. I need to ask you a question.”
Sophia paused in the doorway between the main room and the kitchen with her hand pressed hard against the wall. Julia’s head spun with questions. After a long time, she said, “Do you know that people say the muralist CAT is from Positano?”
Sophia didn’t flinch. “I’ve heard that rumor.”
“What do you think of it?” she asked.
Sophia raised her shoulders. “I think it’s just another game people play. A game to bring tourists in. I don’t think anything of it.”
Julia glanced at Marius, who continued to eat as though nothing was happening. It seemed clear to her that even if their granddaughter knew who CAT was, or wanted to protect CAT, Marius and Sophia were none the wiser. That, or they were really good liars. Julia didn’t think that was possible.
“Okay,” Julia said, her energy dying almost immediately. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner like this.”
“You really can stay for dinner,” Sophia said, using a tone that meant Julia was no longer welcome.
“No. I couldn’t intrude like this,” Julia said. She raised her chin and went on. “Your granddaughter is really a sensational painter. I’ve been thinking about that piece of hers all day. You said she’s studying somewhere?”
“She’s in London,” Marius said.
If Julia wasn’t mistaken, she was pretty sure Sophia cast her husband a look of annoyance. Perhaps she didn’t want her granddaughter’s location to be revealed, especially not to a stranger. Julia could understand that. She was a mother.
“I would really like to talk to your granddaughter about her work,” Julia said. “I run a publishing house back in the United States, and we’re always looking for illustrators. Do you have an email I could contact her with?”
“I said already that I don’t think she should stay in the art world,” Sophia said, her nostrils flared.
“She has a singular talent,” Julia pressed.
“She does,” Sophia agreed in a way that meant so what ?
Suddenly, Marius set down his fork with a clatter and clasped his hands together. “What if this is what Elena needs, Sophia?” he said, speaking to his wife in a clear and crisp English. “What if this is the big break that Federico and Alessandra never got?”
Julia searched Sophia’s face for some understanding of what Marius was saying. It seemed clear that it was affecting, but Julia could hardly guess why. Family drama was as dense as a swamp.
Sophia huffed and turned on her heel to find a little address book on a nearby table, which she opened to show the contact details for Elena, who, it seemed, lived in London and attended the Royal College of Art.
“Like her mother and father did,” Marius said proudly, returning his attention to his pasta. “But I think she’s much better than her father at art. Who needs another pot? Another bowl? In Italy, we have enough of those.”
Sophia stifled a laugh behind her hand and looked at Alessandra. “We love Federico’s work,” she said, speaking, obviously, of their son-in-law. “But as you can see, it’s what he’s gifted us for just about every birthday and holiday since he first started dating our daughter. Enough is enough!”
Julia joined her in confused laughter and looked around the little bed-and-breakfast, which was filled with pots and figurines, all of them with a singular flair that meant they were all made by the same artist, this Federico.
“You’ll know what it’s like when your children get married,” Sophia said. “You love their partners, but it’s never the same.”
“It’s not even close,” Marius agreed.
Julia’s heart softened. She felt they’d let her deeper into their world, but couldn’t fathom why.
Before Sophia changed her mind, she took photographs of Elena’s email address and phone number and thanked Sophia and Marius profusely.
She even kissed Sophia on the cheek, sensing that it was something you were meant to do in this culture.
It was a sign of respect. When she fled the bed-and-breakfast, she ran all the way back to the hotel, her heart thudding.
Maybe Sophia and Marius didn’t know who CAT was.
But Elena did. And Elena was just north—making art and hiding her murals behind someone else’s name.