Death in Florence, page 4
Diana ventured a glance at the man. He looked at her, smiled, and shrugged, like What can you do?
I would’ve gone with you, Diana thought, as the man walked away.
Diana slid off her chair and noticed a brochure spread out on the table that the couple had just abandoned. She went over to it and lifted it up. Sure enough, it was for a summer-long Shakespeare festival in Verona, with music, special events, shopping, and, of course, theater. Diana studied the photograph of the crowded outdoor theater-in-the-round, with people dressed in Elizabethan doublets and ruffs acting on stage. She imagined herself there, and shivered from the thrill of it all.
This was what she wanted to do.
Not some horrible dinner where she had to pretend to be happy for her ex-husband while he fawned over some brainless tart.
But she couldn’t back out now. Grabbing her purse, she went through to the lobby and stopped at the concierge. “Ciao,” she said to the man at the desk. “Can you call me a cab?”
“Yes, signora. Where to?”
She opened her purse and pulled out the slip of paper that Evan had given her. “Ora d’Aria?”
As he picked up the phone to call, she noticed the same brochure for the Shakespeare festival that she’d seen outside. “How far away is Verona, from here?” she asked him once he’d finished making the call.
“It is about a three-hour train ride,” he said, as she pulled open the brochure and gazed at the photographs of the old city.
“How do I reserve tickets?”
“You may do that here, signora,” he said, typing away on the computer in front of him. “Two tickets for tomorrow at nine a.m. would be eight hundred forty euros.”
“Two? Oh.” She shook her head. “No. It would just be me.”
“Oh, scusatemi, signora. Then four-twenty euros, for just you.” Maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to look her over with a glance that said, And what is wrong with you? His eyes landed on her frumpy dress, pausing there, as if he’d found the reason.
She crossed her arms over her chest, thanked the man, and headed out to wait for the cab. She’d get her ticket to Verona later. Right now, she had dinner with the family to think about.
*
“Mommy!” a voice called from the bar of the restaurant, the second Diana stepped inside.
Suddenly, a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous woman flung herself into Diana’s arms. Though her youngest looked different, she hugged very much the same, as if trying to squeeze the life out of her. Diana smiled. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”
It’d been too long, over thirteen months, since Bea had left the United States to teach in Japan. Bea was Diana’s wanderer child, her free spirit. She never stayed in place for too long. “Same here, Mommy,” she said, pulling away so that they could look at each other.
Diana probably had a few more wrinkles, since the divorce hadn’t exactly been kind to her, but Bea had blossomed. Gone was the college-aged girl in the messy bun, glasses, and shapeless sorority sweatshirt. Now, she had a sleek, short pixie-cut and a feminine pink sundress which enhanced her small frame. The same freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose, though. “You look lovely. Where is Hai?”
Bea laughed. “Bring him? Please. This is a girls’ trip!” She laughed. “Well, except for Dad.”
Just then, Lily appeared between them and hugged her. Lily was even taller than Bea, with the long, more serious face of her father. She was a classic beauty, statuesque and trim, with long raven hair like Diana’s, and the bright blue eyes of Evan. “Yeah, Mick was happy to get rid of me.” She snickered. “Just kidding. He had to work. As usual. You know him, nose to the grindstone all the time.”
As she pulled away, Diana couldn’t resist peeking at her tummy. Still flat . . . but was that perhaps the hint of a bulge there? “Well, I’m glad to see you both.”
“Mom. I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Lily muttered. “If this isn’t the most dysfunctional family dinner . . .”
Diana had to agree on that one. “I couldn’t not! When he told me you two were going to be here . . . what was I supposed to do?”
Bea’s jaw dropped and she exchanged a glance with her sister. “Wait . . . Dad told us that you were coming, and that’s why he said he wanted us here. Are you telling us that you had no idea about this?”
Diana shook her head. “No, what do you mean? I only found out about it this afternoon, when I saw him at Ponte Vecchio. I was surprised to find him there.”
Lily, the skeptic, squinted. “Something smells fishy to me.”
“Definitely. Something’s up. Well, come on,” Bea said, grabbing Diana’s hand and smirking at her as she led her through the crowded restaurant. “Let’s not keep the happy couple waiting. Just a warning. Vidal’s already had two glasses of wine, so she’s a little happy.”
They’d gotten a tight corner booth with a bench seat that went all the way around a circular table. Vidal was on the very end, and thankfully, Bea knew to slide all the way in to sit next to her dad. Lily went next, and Diana sat on the other end, right across from Vidal.
It was an unfortunate position, to say the least. Tilda was wearing a red dress that had perhaps less material than the one she’d been wearing earlier that day, if that was even possible. From Diana’s spot, she could see straight down the plunging V of the form-fitting gown, almost to her navel. Her abundant hair was down and so full that it needed its own place at the table, and her face was so made-up, she looked like one of those Bratz dolls her kids used to play with.
As Diana got comfortable, Evan poured her a glass of wine from one of two bottles on the table. At least he hadn’t forgotten her choice of white over red. Tilda giggled and kicked her under the table with a sharp kitten heel. Probably an accident, but pain shot up her leg. Tilda leaned forward and took another sip of her wine, her eyes bleary. “Nice dress, Mrs. . . . um, Diana. Is it okay if I call you Diana?”
Diana smiled. At that moment, she preferred it. “I love your dress, too.”
Tilda looked down and jutted her boobs out in a way that made every male in the place take notice. “Thanks. Evan bought it for me. He’s so sweet.”
Evan grinned. Until that moment, Diana had thought he had taste. She hadn’t realized he was into the painted-on, Frederick’s of Hollywood look.
Bea looked over at her father. “Mom says she didn’t know about this little soiree until this afternoon. So how did it come about?”
Evan’s goofy grin disappeared. “What do you mean? It was perfectly innocent. I call it serendipity.”
Tilda nodded and lifted her glass. “Yes! To serentiddity!”
Bea burst out laughing. Lily elbowed her.
Diana laughed. She could definitely drink to that. And she did.
Evan beamed around the table at them, just as the waiters arrived with plates of food. “Diana. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering for us all. It’s all family-style here, and everything’s incredible, from what I hear.”
Diana shook her head. The faster they ate, the faster she could leave this circus. “How kind of you.”
The plates were set down. Big, heaping piles of some seafood dish with mussels, a dish of cavatelli in a blush vodka sauce, bruschetta, and a vegetable dish made of mushrooms. It all smelled wonderful, though Diana didn’t have much of an appetite.
Lily took a sip of her Perrier, then reached over and grabbed a slice of bread from the basket, dredging it in oil. “Mom, I’ve called you three times in the past three days and you never got back to me. What have you been doing? I thought an axe murderer—”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Lily was her worrier.
Bea nodded in agreement. “We were taking bets on how long it would be before you decided to come home. Dad already lost. He said you’d be back in the first week.”
Diana’s mouth opened. “Really?” She glanced at her companions around the table, speechless. So, what? They’d been sitting around, discussing her craziness, without her? Sure, she’d done something rash, but at least she hadn’t gone and proposed to someone half her age. She’d discussed Evan’s mid-life crisis with her kids, but she hadn’t even thought about taking bets to see how long the marriage would last.
Evan shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “Well, Di. We all know how much you like to have control. And a trip like this requires a fair amount of flex—”
“I don’t like to have control that much!” she said, laughing.
They all stared back at her, as if to say, Blind much?
“Forget it.” She set her glass down and pulled out a pen, and slid a napkin toward her. “I lost your numbers when I lost my phone.”
Bea’s mouth was full of pasta. She swallowed and gasped as if Diana had lost a major body part. “You lost your phone?”
Diana nodded.
“Oh my god!” Now, Lily was joining in on the shock.
“Girls. It’s not a big deal. I have to wait for the iPhone, but in the meantime, I have this thing.” Diana pulled out the old dinosaur and set it down on the table for their inspection. “Like I said. I’m not as big a control freak as you might think! Can I have your numbers? It takes me forever to add in contacts on it, so I’ll do it tonight.”
Bea lifted it and opened it. “Oh my god. What—Why—” Her mouth made all sorts of beginnings to questions before settling on one. “What, did you not think you could afford a new phone? This thing is practically useless.”
Diana’s eyes rose to the ornate chandelier above. “I did. Of course I could afford a new phone. But it’s on backorder. Besides, it might be a good thing to try to ween myself off my phone. I recommend you try it. There’s a whole other world out there, girls, and it’s lovely.”
Bea looked at her as if she’d just suggested stapling her own eyelids open instead of imbibing her morning coffee. She reached over and petted her iPhone, resting on the table next to her. “No, thanks. I like my phone.”
Tilda unleashed that laugh, so loud that it was almost as effective as her boobs in making everyone in the vicinity turn to look at them. “Can you believe it, BB?” she said, looking over at Bea. “I said we haven’t seen one of those things since we were like, in diapers!”
Bea scowled at her. She never did like being called BB. Then she pulled out her phone. “Mom, do you know your number? I’ll just call you and you can add it.”
She gave it to her, and a moment later, her phone rang. She added all of their numbers. Evan slid his over to her. “Just add mine.”
Diana picked it up and noticed a lock screen picture of Tilda against a crystal ocean and pink sunset in Haiti, holding a tropical drink and wearing an almost-obscene pink bikini. It was almost like he was rubbing it in her face. She quickly shoved the cell back over to him. “Just get my number from the kids, if you want it.”
He shrugged and put it away.
“Oh. Girls. Don’t text me. I don’t think my phone allows texts. Or if it does, I don’t think they can be very long.”
Suddenly, Tilda guffawed as she twirled her long hair around a finger. “Oh my gawd! That thing doesn’t even text? What’s it for, then?”
“It’s for people who have other priorities in life than their phones,” she replied tersely.
Tilda snorted and once again kicked her shin under the table. This time, Diana wasn’t so sure it was an accident. Now, her shin was practically bleeding, along with her ears, from Vidal’s painful laugh. As nice as it was to see the girls, she couldn’t take this anymore.
Diana finished her food and slipped her napkin off her lap. “You know, lovelies, I’ve had a great time, but—”
“Mommy, you’re not going!” Bea whined, sounding every bit four years old. “What about dessert? They have tiramisu!”
Diana shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really do have to go. I have an early morning tomorrow,” she lied. “Very busy.”
“Oh?” Evan wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Where are you headed?”
There was no way she was going to spill that information. She wasn’t sure what had happened here in Florence, but she wasn’t going to chance it happening again. “Just doing a little sightseeing.” She looked at the girls. “I’ll call you two later.”
Evan looked a bit shell-shocked. “What . . .” He motioned to Tilda to get up so that he could slide himself out. When she did, rather annoyed by the direction, he rose to his full height and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t leave so soon. We were having a nice night. And who knows . . . if you’re going to be in Europe for as long as you say, I might not see you again for a long, long time.”
Good, she thought, smiling up at him. “If you do, consider that serentiddity.”
Then she turned to walk out of the crowded restaurant. She had some serendipity of her own to arrange—and it involved a one-way ticket to Verona and the Shakespeare festival.
CHAPTER SIX
It was a beautiful night, warm and temperate, and the hotel wasn’t far away. Since Diana was wearing her sensible shoes—all she’d brought with her—she decided to walk it. As she traveled down the winding street, admiring the symmetry of the Elizabethan architecture in various edifices, she came upon a piazza with bowl-shaped lights and a fountain with a Roman goddess. The gardens sprang to life in the fading Tuscan sunlight, buzzing with fireflies and other insects. Across the street, from a corner café, romantic accordion music wafted through the air.
On the narrow walk, she navigated around couples, strolling arm-in-arm, and sighed.
Florence was nice, but yes. It would be nicer still to be in love here. To share this with someone who she cared about, who cared about her.
Night fell and the stars popped out as she meandered home, still thinking.
There was no doubt about it. Her family obviously still thought she was insane. She’d dropped everything—family, job, house, obligations—to come out here for a year. And though she often thought that she might’ve made a mistake, a big part of her believed that she was on a great quest, one that was not nearly complete.
So yes, maybe she was crazy. Maybe this was a mid-life crisis.
But it was her mid-life crisis. Her mistake to make. Her life, and for the first time, she was calling the shots, living it the way she wanted.
If they didn’t like it, they could go shove it.
And maybe that was better than being in love—that she could write this story the way she wanted to, without input from anyone else.
Still . . .
No. She refused to think about it. This was her show. She called the shots. And right now, she was going to make this trip everything she wanted it to be. Because she was in control.
As the castle’s lights came into view, she suddenly noticed how dark it was around her. Clouds had rolled in, blocking out the stars.
Suddenly, lightning slit the sky, and it began to rain. No, it bordered a torrential downpour.
She broke into a run, laughing when she realized she was already drenched. It didn’t make much of a difference what she did.
Of course. Sure, I’m the one in control.
*
She took a warm shower under the waterfall shower head in the expansive stall shower, trying to warm up after that drenching rain had nearly chilled her to the bone. Afterwards, she wrapped her body in one of the fluffy hotel robes and sat on the canopy bed, staring at the brochure for the Verona Shakespeare Festival until it was etched in her head.
As beautiful as Florence was, it did feel like the place had been tainted. How many times had she dreamed of Ponte Vecchio? And now, every time she pictured it, she thought of Vidal, bouncing around and laughing that annoying laugh of hers.
The more she thought about it, the surer she became. She needed to get away.
Somewhere new.
Somewhere else on her bucket list.
It was after nine now. The girls had probably ended the dinner with their father. When she picked up her phone and entered in their numbers, she had her mind made up.
She called Bea’s phone first, since that was the first number she found while scrolling her confusing contacts list.
“Hello?”
“Hi, darling. It’s Mom.”
“Mommy. You scooted out so fast, we didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t really blame you. Vidal’s ridiculous. You know she got so drunk, she fell flat on her face when we were leaving?”
“Really?” For some reason, that made Diana feel better. “Was she okay?”
“Oh, sure. Every man in the vicinity rushed to help her. She loved the attention.”
Diana sighed. “Well, the wine was very good there.” Though not much else. “Oh. And I loved seeing you.”
“Speaking of which, Mom. Are we going to see you again? We don’t fly back for another three days.”
“That depends. I’m going to Verona tomorrow. Why don’t you two come with me? I’d love to spend more time with you.”
“Verona? Where’s that?”
“It’s about three hours north by train. It’s where Romeo and Juliet was set. They have a summer-long Shakespeare festival, and—”
“But wait. Didn’t you just get here? Why—” She paused, and Diana could hear her talking to someone in the background. “Exactly. Why would you go all the way—”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Lily. We’re rooming together. Like old times.” She paused. “But seriously, Mom. Lily and I thought we all could go sightseeing around here. We wanted to—”
“I know, love. But I just have a feeling that I need to . . . escape . . .”
“This is because of Dad, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said immediately, a lie that must’ve been pretty transparent, considering how quickly Bea returned with, “Oh, yes it is.”
“Well—”
“Like I said. I don’t blame you. You were trying to escape him and Vidal, and he shows up on your—”
“I was not trying to escape them.” Well, she had been, a little. Them, and about a thousand other things about her mundane, ordinary life. But yes, them showing up had thrown a complete wrench into her purpose, which was writing her own post-marriage chapter, sans Evan. “And I’m definitely not trying to escape you. If you want to come along, I’ll be taking the nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You can come with me.”
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