Page 30 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)

Patti chiari, amicizia lunga.

Clear agreements , long friendship.

Italian saying

Claire and I sat in a calm quiet, gazing at the moonlit hillside. Above us, acres of twinkling stars appeared in the deep velvet sky. I didn’t want to break the mood, but I also was eager to tell her that I no longer had a job. Before I could break the news, she spoke in a pensive voice.

“Do you really believe?” Claire asked. “In heaven? In a big wedding feast? I mean, truly?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How do you know it isn’t all just a big story?”

“It is a big story. It’s the story . God’s story.”

“It seems to be everywhere here,” Claire said. “And told in a variety of art forms.”

“I know. I didn’t expect that.”

Claire stared into the shadowy garden. “I think I should tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“When we got to Venice and Paulina was saying things like, ‘Go in the footsteps of Christ,’ I thought you had planned for us to be with her and the other pilgrims that showed up.”

“I didn’t plan any of that.”

“I know. When I booked the reservation for here, I knew that Amelia was religious because on her website she said something about how God opened this door for her to move back and how God brought her and Gio together. I knew she probably would talk about her faith during the cooking class. But she hasn’t.

And neither did Paulina, very much. She just showed us, the way Amelia is showing us what she’s passionate about, which is devotion to God. Somehow, it isn’t annoying.”

I grinned. “I agree. It’s not annoying. For me, the way they live is inspiring.” I wanted to say many other things. I didn’t. It seemed important that I simply listen.

“You know how Francis pulled away from the opulence of the church in his day and started to do what it said in your book? To just love God and love others?”

I nodded.

“I think Paulina has done that in her own way. And Amelia and Gio have done it in a big way. You’ve done that too.

Like your attitude about your job. I don’t understand how someone can feel like they haven’t been released from a job.

But I’ve seen you come out on top in the past when you didn’t cut corners. ”

“Well, actually...” I told her about the moment of release I had sensed when I was talking to the strawberry, and the email and my voicemail to Nathan.

“I felt so close to God when I was in the garden. His timing, you know. It’s all falling into place.

Not the way I thought it would, but when does anything in our lives ever go the way we think it should? ”

“I’m happy for you, Grace. Really happy.

” Claire leaned forward and pulled one of the candles closer, staring into the amber flame.

“Everything you just described is so foreign to me,” she said.

“I mean, I believe you, but I don’t understand it.

And the way Gio talked to God tonight with such passion.

It should feel fake, but it isn’t. I can tell that it’s real for him.

That was a prayer he offered before dinner, wasn’t it? And the song.”

“The song was beautiful, wasn’t it?”

Claire rose from the table. She slowly moved over to the edge of the landing and reached up to pluck a blossom from one of the hanging wisterias.

“There is so much beauty in Italy. Not only the landscape, art, paintings, and the food. It’s different from home.

I have felt so much love here.” She turned to me and seemed to be studying my expression in the soft light.

“Do you feel that way too?” she asked. “Like it’s easier to think here and evaluate our lives since we’re out of our routines? ”

I nodded.

“It’s as if there is something in the air that makes everything feel so much ... I don’t know the word. Fuller, maybe. Life here feels true at the gut level.”

“May I tell you what I really think?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“What I’ve felt, and what I believe you’re feeling, is God. It’s His love. His Spirit whispering to your bones.”

“My bones?”

“Yes. Like you said. True at the gut level. He meets us at the foundational essence of our humanness.” I waited to see if she wanted me to go on.

Tilting her head and giving a slight nod, she asked, “Why? Why would He be whispering to any part of me?”

“He’s pursuing you. You gave your life to Him long ago. You told me you meant it. I know something happened that hurt you and pushed you away. But He’s still in you and with you and you’re still His first love.”

She moved a few more steps away from the table and out of the candlelight, so I couldn’t see her face. My voice broke as I whispered, “Claire, He wants you back.”

She paused with her face toward the garden.

I couldn’t tell by her posture if she was tensing up or relaxing in response to what I said.

I sat alone at the table with the candles flickering and mixing their beeswax fragrance with the heady wisteria.

This place had become a cathedral for all my thoughts and senses.

“You’ve been wanting to say those things to me for a long time, haven’t you?” Claire took small steps toward me.

“Yes.”

We lingered in a communion of silence that felt like a soothing release for me. Claire’s small movements made me think she was restless.

Instead of sitting at the table again, Claire said, “I’m going up. I want to shower tonight because I’ll be up early to help Amelia in the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

She walked away. Surprisingly, the emotion that came over me was anger.

I’d thought everything was perfect. This could have been the moment her life turned around.

I was mad that she hadn’t joined me at the table, bowed her head, and had the come-to-Jesus moment I wanted her to have.

I felt it all so deeply. Why hadn’t she felt the same nudge?

I stayed behind, calming down, breathing deeply, and asking unspoken questions. I thought of Amelia’s response to Rosie when she’d wanted to leave the table. Just love. Lots of love.

My anger melted quickly, and in its place I felt an abiding love for my friend.

She had started our conversation pointing out how she thought I had set up assorted encounters with followers of Christ on our trip.

I had nothing to do with them coming into our lives.

It wasn’t odd. It was God. He was doing something.

He was writing Claire’s story, and I believed more than ever that He was and would be the Author and Finisher of her faith.

Feeling as if all I could do was turn the page and see what happened next, I blew out the candles and unplugged the string of lights. With only the moon to light my path, I slowly found my way to the back door of the villa and up the stairs to our room.

Claire was already in bed and appeared to be asleep when I entered. If she had taken a shower, it was a quick one. I tried to be quiet, which was difficult in the small space. But the coolness of the room and the fullness I still felt from dinner led to a great night’s sleep.

Claire’s alarm woke me before the sun had risen.

I squinted and pulled up the covers, pretending to be asleep while she dressed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I knew I wouldn’t fall back asleep. Not when I could go down to the garden, listen to the birds, and pluck ripe strawberries from the vine at sunrise.

It took me longer to get ready than it had taken Claire. I thought about Amelia’s comment that she might offer us gelato for breakfast, and I liked that idea very much.

Instead of gelato, I found a plate of rolls along with butter and jam waiting on the coffee table in the living room.

The baked goods were a more rustic option than the scrumptious cornetti we had enjoyed in Venice.

I wondered if this was typical for rural Tuscan areas or if it was England’s influence on Amelia.

I didn’t want to eat alone, so I picked up a roll and headed toward the voices of the early-rising cooks.

“Buongiorno,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen.

Claire, Amelia, and Rosie all echoed my greeting. Rosie was in the corner chair sipping from a coffee cup and asked if I would like a latte.

The cup and the amount of coffee and hot milk were larger than the cappuccinos we had enjoyed in Venice. The first sip was soothing and creamy, followed by the vibrant kick of the espresso shots.

“I always do three shots,” Rosie said. “Hope that’s how you like it. I’m headed to the garden to pick what we need for the Bolognese sauce. Would you like to join me?”

I held up my index finger, indicating that I needed a minute before I joined her. I swallowed the bite of roll in my mouth and slid over to Claire. “Everything okay?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, of course. Sorry I conked out last night.”

“No problem. Just wanted to make sure ... you know.”

She kept looking at me. Her expression was calm. “Yes. Just lots to think about.”

I gave her a nod and an affirming smile. I appreciated that she gave me a touchpoint to understand she was processing our conversation from last night. I hadn’t pushed her away, and that was a relief. Downing the last sip of my latte, I headed for the garden.

The sunlight seemed to take the form of glimmering fingers reaching from the sky and gently rousing the world around me.

The pool remained in the shadow of the two-story villa.

That didn’t stop the placid water from inviting me to return.

I wasn’t sure if or when I’d be able to take another polar bear dip today since we planned to explore Florence that afternoon and had agreed to join Amelia and Gio at their fancy dinner that evening.

Rosie stood with her hands on her hips in the garden, surveying the rows.

Her curly hair was pulled back into a fluffy low ponytail.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the garden she had acquired a hat.

Even with her hair pulled back, the hat seemed to be toppling over, having a hard time staying on her head.

“Where do we begin?” I asked.