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“There may be another here,” Raphael says.

I move the dirt aside, feeling for the bulbs.

“No, no. Dig!” he commands.

I try to follow what Forza did, and Raphael is still not pleased. “Show me.” Using his hands, Raphael pushes deeper into the ground. He closes his eyes and feels his way down to the roots. “Se non scavi in profondità avrai sempre fame.”

The lesson is simple: if I don’t dig, I will always be hungry. I don’t know what comes over me, but I plunge my hands into the cold earth. Once I break through the mesh of roots, there’s a layer of soft mud. “Wait!” I shout. I make a deeper well in the ground, pushing aside the dirt until I feel the smooth texture of a rock buried deeply in the earth. It’s not a stone; it’s a bulb. With two hands, I yank the truffle free. Forza barks. I stand with the truffle and hand it to Raphael. “Non voglio avere fame!”

Raphael brushes the earth off the truffle and hands it back to me. I place it in the linen sack tied around my waist.

We follow Forza and Raphael deeper into the woods. Forza leads us to tree after tree. We settle on one with obvious roots that cover the ground like a spiderweb. Raphael guides us to dig, and we work hard at it. Farah is persistent and she, too, finds a small truffle beneath the roots of a tree with the help of Raphael. She is jubilant and we’re exhausted. We agree to hike back down the mountain to town. The return trip is filled with surprises, a silver creek, a blue lake, and a purple sky that turns lavender on the horizon as the sun sets over Siena.

On the train ride home, Conor, Gaetano, and Farah play cards. I’m reading when the phone buzzes in my backpack. There’s a new text from Detective Campovilla.

We need to speak with you regarding Rolando Gugliotti at your earliest convenience.

I unlock thedoor to my apartment. Smokey scampers to greet me. Why didn’t anyone tell me how delicious it is to return home to a pet who loves you? I place my tote bag on the sofa, turn on the lights, and open the windows and terrace doors. I unlace the hiking boots and slip my feet out of them. I pull off the socks and leave them on the floor. I’m on my way to run the bath when I notice a bouquet of sunflowers on the kitchen counter.

Grazie mille, Giuseppina.

Signora Strazza

I post a photo of the flowers—Pavarotti’s favorite flower—when there’s a knock at the door.

“My mother would like to invite you to dinner,” Angelo says the moment I open the door. He takes in my hiking ensemble.

“Truffle hunt,” I explain.

“I see that. How about dinner?”

“That’s so nice of your mother. She’s done enough for me. She let me keep the kitten. What could be better? Jake Gyllenhaal rents the apartment downstairs and falls in love with me? A rent decrease?” I rub my hands together.

“I don’t think Mamma will lower the rent.” Angelo leans against the door and smiles. “Is Jake Gyllenhaal your type?”

“Could be.” Angelo has a girlfriend, but I like flirting with him.

Angelo’s work clothes are patched with splotches of turpentine and streaks of dust from filing stone. His shoes look like pointillist paintings where the paint has dripped in tiny drops. Angelo Strazza is growing on me. So I say, “I’d love to come to dinner.”

“You will make my mother very happy.”

“How about you?” I blurt.

Angelo is surprised. “I always enjoy your company,” he says.

“Good. What time?”

“An hour?”

“Perfetto,” I tell him.

Angelo stands and looks at me. The water in the bathtub is rapidly rising. I need to close the door, but he’s not making a move to go.

“Va bene.See you in an hour.” I begin to close the door.

“Va bene.” He closes the door.

I slip out of my muddy clothes and into the tub. Smokey jumps up on the sink and looks at me.