Catherine Spencer – The Man from Tuscany (страница 3)

“And the nights?”

“Well…” A delicate flush tinted her grandmother’s cheeks.

Amused despite herself, Carly said, “Don’t tell me you snuck out every night as soon as poor old Aunt Patricia hit the sack, and Genevieve covered for you?”

“Not quite every night.”

But often enough for an unprincipled rat to put the moves on her naive and trusting grandmother! “So how did you meet this Marco? Was he trolling the halls of the Pitti Palace, looking for innocent young American girls to seduce?”

“He was doing nothing of the sort,” Anna said sharply. “I met him over lunch at an outdoor trattoria. He was at the table next to mine. I had trouble explaining to the waiter what I wanted to order, Marco overheard and stepped in to translate….”

T HE MENU overwhelmed me. Too much to choose from, and the plate of linguine covered with herb sauce the waiter set before me wasn’t what I thought I’d asked for. I hadn’t acquired a taste for pasta at that point. We never ate it at home. “No, grazie,” I told him, searching my little phrase book. “Voglio qualcosa…luce.”

“Luce?” He eyed me doubtfully.

“L…i…g…h…t,” I enunciated, slowly and very distinctly, the way English-speaking tourists tend to do when abroad and confronted by a foreign language. “I…want…something…light.”

“Ah, si! Capisco!” He reached into his vest pocket and produced a small box of matches. “Sigarette.”

“No!” I exclaimed, shocked by the very idea. “ Non sigarette. No fumo— I don’t smoke.”

The waiter threw up his hands, completely at a loss.

To my right, a chair scraped over the piazza’s ornately patterned paving stones, and another voice, deep and confident, joined the conversation. “ Per favore, signorina, may I help?”

I looked up and there he was—tall, dark, handsome and able to speak English. “Yes, please!” I replied fervently. “All I want is a light meal. But not a salad,” I was quick to add. I’d been warned to avoid any uncooked foods that had been washed in local water. “Just something…small.” I gestured at the linguine. “It’s too hot for a heavy meal like this.”

“I understand perfectly.” He engaged the waiter in discussion, and with nothing better to do, I simply stared at my gallant rescuer. He was perhaps five feet ten or eleven, with a slim, but powerful build, thick black hair that gleamed under the sun, and a face that left me dry-mouthed and reaching for my glass of acqua minerale ….

“A ND THE NEXT MOMENT , he asked if he could join you,” Carly observed dryly.

“Actually I asked him. It seemed the mannerly thing to do, considering how helpful he’d been. My Italian was obviously minimal, but his English was excellent. We struck up a conversation and when he discovered my interest in the historical buildings and churches of Florence, he offered to introduce me to his city.”

Carly rolled her eyes. “How original!”

“I thought he was very kind—not to mention knowledgeable. He was an architect, you see, and well qualified to give me a guided tour.”

“Right! And show you his etchings while he was at it.”

“Carly!”

“Well, you can’t blame me for wondering! So how long before you decided you were in love with him?”

“About five minutes.”

“Oh, come on, Gran! You don’t mean that.”

“I do. It really was love at first sight, for both of us. Parafulmine, Marco called it. A lightning bolt without the thunder. Fate’s way of letting us know we were meant to be.”

Unprincipled and smooth-talking, as well. Carly couldn’t repress the cynical thought. “Did he try to kiss you that first day?”

“He did better than that,” her grandmother said, fondling her gold heart pendant. “He proposed.”

“He did not!”

“He did. ‘Will you marry me, Anna?’ he said. And I said I would.”

Carly glanced again at the photograph. “Well, he was definitely attractive. I can see how you might’ve fallen for his good looks.”

“Oh, he was so much more than just a handsome face. He was beautiful on the inside, and he brought out the very best in me. That’s why I need to see him again, Carly. I need to tell him that, despite all the things that went wrong and all the tears we’ve both shed, I have never for a moment regretted loving him.”

“So it wasn’t all moonlight and roses, then?”

Her grandmother gazed off into the distance, seeming pursued by memories. “No,” she said slowly. “Sometimes it was pure hell, and I don’t know how we survived. But nothing could put a dent in my certainty that he was my other half and we would have our happy-ever-after ending.”

“So what happened?”

“The war,” Anna said. “Let’s go for a breath of fresh air in the garden, precious, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

CHAPTER TWO

T HEY WERE HALFWAY to the gazebo near the pond, sufficiently far from the house that no one could overhear their conversation, but close enough that the walk didn’t overtax her grandmother’s strength, when Carly noticed a couple heading toward them.

“You’ve got more company, Gran,” she said. “Mom and Dad are here. Did you ask them to stop by?”

Dismayed, Anna said, “Gracious, no! This isn’t a story Grace would understand, nor would she appreciate my sharing it with you.”

And she wouldn’t appreciate finding them together now, Carly thought, aware that her mother had always resented her closeness with Anna.

“Why are you here, Carly?” Grace demanded the second she arrived within hailing distance. “You don’t usually stop by during the week.”

“It was kind of spur-of-the-moment, Mom. Gran had a little business she wanted me to take care of, and she’s in a bit of a hurry.”

“What sort of business, Mother? If it’s your heart, you shouldn’t be wandering around so far from the house.”

“It’s not my heart, dear,” Anna said placidly.

Grace flicked a glance from her mother to Carly, and when neither offered any further explanation, motioned impatiently with her hand. “Then what? Are we allowed to hear or is it a big dark secret between the two of you?”

Carly’s father dropped a kiss on Anna’s head and urged her to a nearby garden bench. “It’s a big dark secret,” he teased, attempting to lighten the moment. “Some silver-haired admirer living on the third floor has swept you off your feet, and you’re getting married again. Admit it, Anna. You want Carly to help you elope.”

Oh, Dad! Carly stifled a horrified giggle. You have no idea how close to the truth you’ve come!

Unruffled, her grandmother said, “Not quite, Taylor. I want to go to Florence, that’s all, and I’ve asked Carly to make the travel arrangements.”

“Florence, as in Italy?” Grace fairly choked on the question.

“The very same, dear. It’s always been one of my favorite cities.”

If she’d hoped to fool anyone into believing she hadn’t dropped news on par with a minor earthquake, Grace soon disabused her of that notion. “And Carly, of course, has explained it’s absolutely out of the question.”

“That was my first reaction,” Carly admitted, “but now that I’ve had chance a to think about it, it doesn’t strike me as such a bad idea, after all.”

Her mother stared at her, slack-jawed. “Why in the world would you encourage such a foolish request?”

“Why is it foolish, Mom? What’s to stop Gran from going to Italy if she wants to?”

“Well, her age, for one thing. And if that’s not enough, how about the fact that she can barely make it from her suite to the dining room without a blast of oxygen to get her there? A journey like this will kill her.”

“Rubbish, Grace!” Anna declared. “I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for. Provided I take my medication and travel first-class, both of which I intend to do, I’ll be just fine.”

“I swear you get dottier by the day!” Frustrated, Grace appealed to her husband. “Taylor, talk some sense into your mother-in-law.”

“It is a fair distance for a woman your age to travel alone, Anna, especially considering your health problems,” he pointed out mildly.

“I’ll hardly be alone, dear. I’m sure Carly will take me to Boston, check me in at Logan, and see to it that I have a wheelchair. And the flight attendants are very kind. They’ll keep an eye on me.”

But she wasn’t winning them over, Carly saw. Her mother’s face registered growing outrage. Her father, ever the voice of calm reason when the unexpected or unusual occurred, looked distinctly perturbed. And in truth, Carly herself was beginning to have doubts. Her grandmother’s secret might have struck a romantic chord in the telling, but when put to the test, grand passion wasn’t stacking up so well against the practicalities.

Her father cleared his throat. “Look, we came by because it’s such a lovely day we decided to take you for lunch at that place on the beach you like. Why don’t we do that and talk about this some more?”

“That’s very considerate of you, Taylor,” Anna replied, “but there’s nothing to talk about. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s that.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Grace snapped. “Can’t you see we’re worried about you?”

“I know that, and if joining you for lunch will make you happy…”

“I’m not happy, Mother, but when did that ever keep you from doing what you wanted? And the subject is far from closed. Now, you’re going to need a sweater—it’s always breezy down by the water. We’ll have to hurry, or we’ll end up waiting for a table.”