Chapter 18Marco
Chapter 18
Marco
“When are you back from Brazil?” I ask as I sling Enzo’s suitcase into the back of his car.
“Next Friday.”
“There’s this fantastic hole-in-the-wall eatery I went to a bunch of times in Rio that serves the best?—”
“I won’t have time for hole-in-the-wall eateries. Or the inclination,” he interrupts. “This is a business trip.”
“Sure, but a guy’s got to eat.”
He gives me that look I know all too well, the look that tells me he and I are total opposites. He pulls the driver’s door open. “Food poisoning isn’t at the top of my list for this trip, Marco.”
Enzo might carry on about the fact that I’ve never been particularly mature, never really known what I want to do with my life up until discovering my passion for nature, but the guy is in serious need of loosening up. It doesn’t have to be my favorite hole-in-the-wall eatery in Rio, but it needs to be something. He’s so tightly wound I’m surprised he doesn’t bounce down the road on an oversized coil.
“Should we hug it out?” I ask with what I hope is a winning smile.
He rolls his eyes, but he hugs me anyway. It’s one of those awkward, stiff, pat on the back types of hugs he specializes in. “See you in eight days’ time, when we’ll be going to Malveaux for Prince Alexander and Princess Madeline’s wedding.”
“I do love a wedding in summer,” I say with a grin.
Enzo shakes his head at me before he climbs into his car and drives away.
As I step out of the elevator into the office, my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Revera? This is Dr. Felix Esposito,” says a raspy voice, softened by age.
My mind is so preoccupied with thinking about how different Enzo and I are—and how, despite my shortcomings, I’m glad to be me—I don’t immediately recognize the name.
“How can I help you, Dr. Esposito?”
“I think the question is more how can I help you , young man. You called me last week regarding a translation, you may recall.”
Of course! Dr. Felix Esposito is the professor who can translate old Ledonian, the one Amelia told us about. I’d googled him, just as she suggested, and found that he does indeed live in a small village in the mountains. She will love the fact I tracked him down and I’m now talking with him, her plan coming together in her mind, I’m sure.
“It’s great to hear from you, professor, and thank you so much for calling me back. I’m eager to know, are you able to do the translation for us?”
“You are correct in that I’m one of the few scholars left who can translate ancient Ledonian. Really, it is such a terrible state of affairs, which is why I have been training up several younger scholars to pick up the mantle, as it were. Your scroll has me quite intrigued, Mr. Revera. Quite intrigued indeed.”
Excitement bubbles up inside me. “Can you translate it for us?”
“Absolutely. I would be more than happy to.”
“That’s brilliant! Thank you.” My mind begins to tick over. Having the scroll translated means we will finally understand the riddle, and what the “righteous heir” is all about.
“My pleasure, young man. There is one stipulation. I prefer not to travel to Villadorata. It’s the traffic and the busyness of the city, you see. Dreadful. I’m simply too old for that sort of thing these days. So, if you want this translation, you will need to bring it to me.”
“We can do that.”
“In addition, my son-in-law is coming to take me from my village to visit my youngest daughter and her newborn child in three days’ time, after which I will be gone for well over two months.”
“Your newborn grandchild doesn’t live in Villadorata?” I chance .
“Heavens no! My son-in-law is a diplomat. He’s currently stationed in Australia.”
So, we’ve got less than three days to get the scroll translated before the professor leaves for literally the other side of the world.
“Can I scan it an email it you?”
“I don’t have email, I’m afraid. I have little use for it now that I’m retired.”
“Are you on social media?”
“Social what?”
That would be a no then. Man, this is like talking to someone from the 1980s.
I make a snap decision.
“Please give me your address. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
He gives me his details and I pull up a map on my phone. It looks to be about a seven hour round trip to Monteluce from Villadorata, the small village where he lives, which I bet we could do in a day, no problem.
I’m buzzing with energy, too thrilled to stand still. Pacing the room, I tell the professor I will be back in touch shortly and pull up my text messages to find Sofia’s name. I tap out a quick message, my thumbs moving faster than I can think.
Me:
I have news. I’ve found the professor your sister mentioned. He lives in a small town in the mountains called Monteluce. Message me when you get this.
My phone beeps with a return message in five seconds flat.
Sofia:
I’ve never heard of Monteluce.
Me:
Me neither, but I’ve looked it up and it’s in the mountains, about a three and a half hour drive away, according to Google. He said he’s happy to translate it for us! He won’t come to the city to meet with us, so we need to go to him.
Sofia:
Did you tell him I want to see him? I know that sounds like I’m throwing my name around, but royalty does bring certain advantages.
Me:
I didn’t think I should mention your name, for discretion’s sake.
Sofia:
Good thinking.
So, we’re stuck.
Me:
Nope. As I said: day trip.
The dots indicating she’s messaging me pulse on my screen and then vanish. A moment later they light up again, and I wait eagerly for her response. It’s short and to the point.
Sofia:
When?
Me:
It needs to be either tomorrow or the next day. He’s going to Australia in three days’ time.
Again, dots appear on my screen before they disappear again. I clench my jaw. What will she say? That’s an entire day spent together, seven hours in the car and who knows how long for the professor to translate the scroll. If I’m right, she feels a strong and undeniable pull to me, just as I do to her. Will that amount of time make her feel compromised in some way? Is she concerned she won’t be able to resist me for that long?
My head says no, we shouldn’t go, but my heart wants her answer to be yes .
Me:
We can make a day of it. Leave early, get back late. Easy.
Sofia:
I’m not sure.
Me:
Is it because it’s a whole day out of your busy schedule?
I don’t mention the other point, that she fears being alone with me for so long.
There are no dots pulsing on my screen. My heart sinks. She doesn’t want to spend a day with me, even if it means getting the translation.
I’m about to message her that I can go on my own when I get a reply.
Sofia:
I can clear my schedule tomorrow.
Happiness radiates across my chest, and I punch the air. I tell myself it’s because we’ll finally be able to solve this mystery. But I know it’s more than that.
Me:
We can drive there, meet the professor to get the scroll translated, and finally know what this “righteous heir” thing is all about. Won’t it be awesome to finally work this riddle out?
Energy surges through me, and I bounce on my toes to try to contain it.
Sofia:
I’ll drive.
That sounds like Sofia.
Me:
You… drive?
Sofia:
Of course I do.
Me:
Good to know.
Sofia:
Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at 7:00 a.m. That way we can get on the road before the rush hour traffic.
Me:
Very pragmatic of you.
I punch in my address details, my head abuzz. We’re going to get the scroll translated tomorrow, and more than that, I get to spend time with the woman I’m rapidly learning has grown to mean so much to me. The woman who fills my mind night and day.
The woman I’m beginning to fall for.