Page 3 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)

My gaze had fixed on an exquisite chandelier that hung from a main exposed wooden beam in the ceiling.

The chandelier had five curved arms from which blue and amber glass dripped like large frozen raindrops.

The colors blended with the rich brocade upholstery on the sofa and the matching roll pillows at the arms. Next to the sofa was an ornate writing desk with built-in boxes just begging to be opened.

“Look. We have everything we need to make coffee.” Claire pointed to the mini nook next to the door. The space was too compact to be called a kitchenette, but it looked well equipped for some simple hot beverage prep.

“I love this little round table.” I lowered into one of the plush chairs by the small table, where two crystal drinking glasses and a matching carafe filled with water awaited us.

I carefully removed the crystal stopper and poured the water, and we raised our glasses.

Neither of us came up with words for a toast, so we drank the welcome gift in silence and a sense of relief.

Claire strode across the tile floor, checking out the two twin beds with matching ornate headboards and the tall dresser with a large, gold-frame mirror above it.

On the edge of the dresser sat a vase filled with red roses.

Claire picked up the card at the base of the flowers.

Instead of reading it aloud, she came over and sat in the other chair and handed me the card.

Benvenuta , Grace and Claire.

May you know Peace .

Rest well , Pilgrims.

Paulina

“Who is Paulina?” Claire asked.

“I’m not sure. Sue’s friend, maybe?”

“This is all just...” Claire looked up at the chandelier. “Wow.”

“I know. Big wow. I did not expect this.”

“It makes sense why they don’t post pictures or list this as a vacation rental. It’s too special.”

“This space has been well loved,” I said. “I feel privileged to be able to stay here.”

“Do you think that’s a closet or a bathroom?” Claire popped up and turned the door handle. “You won’t believe this. It’s a bathroom and it’s marble. All marble. The floor, walls, shower.”

“I would believe anything right now.”

She turned to me. “Grace, I’m sorry I was skeptical about this place. I should have trusted you.”

“You have no reason to apologize. I didn’t know what we were getting into either. I was more nervous than you about all the unknowns.”

Claire stepped into the bathroom and laughed. “Grace, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I was nervous?”

“No. Tell me what my hair looked like! The moisture here is going to be my nemesis.” She trotted over to her suitcase and began playfully singing, “Oh, where is my hairbrush?”

I smiled and decided to stay settled in the chair, sipping the refreshing water.

I wasn’t ready to look in the mirror. I was pretty sure that my attempt at the end of our flight to pull my long, dark brown hair up into a smooth twist had been pointless.

The twist had unraveled into a loose cluster, and I knew the dense moisture had enticed oodles of wayward strands to curl and come out in every direction in a free-for-all.

I was just glad we were here and that the room far exceeded our expectations.

I pushed up the sleeves of the merino wool sweater my mom had purchased for me in preparation for this trip.

She insisted that layering would be essential since the weather in May would vary.

I was already thankful for the warmth and the quality of the finely knit sweater.

I liked being comfortable, and at the moment, I was quite comfortable.

While Claire was in the bathroom, I glanced around at the touches of elegance in our room and thought about the trips I’d taken with my mom during high school and college.

If she were here, she would have diplomatically suggested that I shower, fix my hair properly, and change into a crisp white blouse with fresh “slacks” before going out for dinner.

Her wealthy upbringing, etiquette, and expectations had governed my life until I met Nathan.

He and I were a case of “opposites attract,” and I loved the way we still balanced each other.

We started married life with china dinner service for sixteen from my side of the family and camping gear from his side.

I hoped that traveling with Claire would be more like camping with Nathan and our daughter, Emma, than the elaborate trips I’d taken with my mom.

“What do you think?” Claire asked, exiting the bathroom. “Do you want to rest a little, or should we go find something to eat?”

“Food, please.”

“Good. Because I just happen to know a place that looks pretty good,” Claire said. “Or at least it smells good.”

I grinned. “Is it within walking distance?”

“Yes, just a tiptoe through the garden.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I should warn you that the bartender isn’t especially friendly,” she said with a grin. “But if we ignore him and focus on the pasta options, we should be fine.”

I thought of how I had told her on the vaporetto that “we should be fine,” and here we were—more than fine. I caught her eye and said, “Claire?”

“Grace?”

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“We’re in Italy.”