Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Lexi
Big plans today. Colosseum in the morning, temple hunting this afternoon, and an exclusive night tour of the catacombs this evening. I slide the third letter into my bag and head down to the hotel lobby.
The receptionist calls me over.
“Ms. Walker? There’s someone waiting for you.” She points to the café attached to the lobby.
My heart rate ratchets up. There’s only one person who would meet me here.
I cross the lobby and when I’m at the entrance to the restaurant, someone shouts my name.
Not a deep, raspy masculine call. Not Lexington, but Lexi.
Shock ousts my flash of disappointment.
The familiar voice makes no sense, but I squeal anyway. “Julie?”
She’s waving, and when I pass through the breakfast crowd to her, she hops up from the table, wide hoop earrings swinging, and squeezes me in a hug. It is her. In Italy. “What are you doing here?”
She pulls back. “You needed me, and I’m here for you. I caught an evening flight from New York and got in around six this morning.” She shakes me by the shoulders, and her exuberance cracks me up. “I’m in Rome!”
Classic Julie move—straight to the extreme, impulsive measures.
I slide onto the chair across from her, her tiny espresso cup between us. She spreads her arms straight out like ta-da. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes, except it’s you. Thank you for coming. You’re the best.”
“True.” She winks. “So. Down to business. Let’s start with the festival. Any progress on where the painting is from yet?”
“None.” I wave off a waiter—there’s a maritozzo with my name on it at my favorite bar and even with Julie here, I’m not deviating from my schedule anymore, even though the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee is a killer combo. “I guess I’ll disappoint all Mom’s fans.”
“No offense, that’s not a good strategy.
” Julie drums her fingers together. “What if someone at the reveal knows where it is? That would be dramatic.” She wiggles her shoulders, the spark of an exciting idea animating her whole body.
“Ooh, can you imagine the media reports, our real-time posts as the mystery is solved? This could be good.” She drums her nails on the glass-top table.
“If no one knows, we could run an international contest to find it. That’s very good publicity for our company. And for your mom’s paintings.”
This is Julie through and through—never down for long, and always with a fresh take.
I feel that constant knot in my stomach loosen. It will be okay. That actually does sound like fun. I press my lips together and squeeze her hand. “I’m so glad you’re here, Julie.”
She sips her espresso. “It was so much fun surprising you. I can’t believe I got you to scream.”
“Squeal.”
“Scream.” She folds her hands on the table and leans forward. Here we go. “So, tell me about Mark.”
I feel my face flush. I really need to have a talk with my eyes and skin. It doesn’t seem to me that I’m in charge of them like I should be. “He focuses on things, on me, and makes me feel seen. He has the corniest sense of humor—”
Julie groans. “Puns? Ugh. I guess for you that’s a good thing. Fine, I’ll allow it. Go on.”
“He’s a bit stiff, but there’s this spark of mischief in his eyes all the time—his family are pranksters—and he’s slow to open up to people. But with his family he’s the most loyal, most loving guy.” I give Julie a miserable smile. “At least I thought he was loyal.”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. So when am I meeting him?”
I shake my head. “I’m not calling him up and arranging a meeting. That would be impossible.”
She dips her chin and gives me an admonishing look. “Nothing is impossible.”
I toss my hands up. “What would I say? ‘My friend wants to meet you and see if you’re a jerk or a Green Flag Ambassador’?”
Julie shrugs like, why not?
I twist in my seat, ready to run. “We’ll discuss it later. I’m opening a letter this morning at the Colosseum and want to try to beat the crowds. Are you coming?”
“No. I won’t horn in on opening your Mom’s envelopes. That’s your time with her.”
I swallow around the immediate lump in my throat. My “time with Mom” is running out. “So what are you going to do?”
“Dig a little. What’s his last name?”
“Julie,” I warn, standing and pushing in my chair.
“Never mind. I’ll find his full name on the invite list for the reception you had earlier this week. I’m not going to take him out or hire the mafia, just . . . remove him from the situation if I decide he’s not good for you.”
“You scare me.”
She slides her sunglasses down on her face and stands with me. “I know. That’s why you screamed.”