Page 35 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)

“That still blows my mind,” I said. “Looking at paintings, churches, and now a bridge that have endured for half a millennium is hard to fathom.”

“I know.” Claire turned to saunter across the bridge, adding, “If I find something I can afford in one of the jewelry shops, I’m going to buy it. A necklace, maybe. I rarely wear jewelry, but I would wear something from Florence. Wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Side by side, we wove though the flow of visitors.

Most people seemed to take their time, stopping to look in the modern, well-lit display windows of the small, lined-up shops.

I felt as if we were walking down a street in an old part of town where ancient and modern had found a way to live harmoniously together.

I forgot we were on a bridge until we came to the center section that was open on both sides.

We waited for our turn to step over to the waist-high wall and look down on the river.

I tried to imagine how many millions of people had stopped in this spot over the centuries.

“This place has a vibe,” I said.

“It sure does. Would you mind if we went back to one of the shops before we go the rest of the way?” Claire asked. “I saw some thin gold bands. I want to see how much they cost.”

We went inside the small shop and were greeted warmly.

The display cases were brimming with fascinating bracelets, necklaces, charms, cameos, and earrings.

Claire pointed to a display of thin gold rings in the window, and the attentive salesman presented several to her on a velvet pad.

I joined Claire in trying on the dainty rings.

I loved how shiny and smooth the gold felt.

The prices weren’t cheap, but this wasn’t a flea market.

“I’m going to buy this one,” I announced quietly to Claire. “I think it will always remind me of a little glimmer of all the gold we’ve seen since we arrived. It feels like a pinch of history that I can take home with me.”

Claire tried five more and found one that fit nicely. The one I liked was plain and smooth. Hers had a flat twist that gave it a distinct look on her finger.

“I love this one.” She smiled at the shop owner and held it out to him. “It’s perfect.”

We were still smiling when we exited and continued our stroll to the end of the bridge.

I felt young, as if our matching jewelry was a pact that we would be BFFs forever.

I wore my dainty gold band on the ring finger of my right hand.

Claire wore hers on her index finger, and I noticed it every time she pointed at something she liked in a storefront window as we passed.

We took our time and didn’t feel rushed or pressed in by crowds as we traversed the old bridge.

“I remember something else about this bridge,” Claire said. “It’s the only one in Florence that wasn’t destroyed during World War II. I saw pictures of the neighborhood after it was bombed, and it was in rubble.”

“That’s why the buildings look modernish,” I said. “I wonder why Ponte Vecchio was spared.”

“Apparently a couple of theories exist, but the one I remember is that a homeless man hung out on the bridge and the goldsmiths gave him food. When the Nazis set the charges to blow up the bridge, no one paid attention to the scruffy guy. But he disarmed the charges and saved the bridge.”

“I love that.”

“I know. Me too.”

We had reached the end of the bridge we had started from. I turned to Claire, and for one second I didn’t recognize her. I burst out laughing.

“What? Did I miss something?”

“I thought you were somebody else.”

“Who?”

“Nobody. I just didn’t recognize you for a second. Jared is going to be so surprised when you deplane. Do you want me to take a picture of you now and send it to him? Or do you want to surprise him?”

She thought for a moment. A look of mischief glimmered in her eyes. “I think I’ll surprise Jared and Brooke. I heard from them yesterday, and they were going over to your house to have dinner with Nathan and Emma.”

“Nathan told me they’re having pizza, and when we get home, all of them are counting on us to come up with an amazing full Italian dinner for them. He said it’s torture to read my summaries of what we’re eating and not be able to taste it too.”

“We can let them know that when we are back home, I’m committed to preparing endless Italian dishes, so they better get their appetites ready.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” I checked my phone. “Speaking of dinners, I told Amelia we would be there before six o’clock. We should grab a taxi.”

“How far away is it?”

I showed her where Amelia had placed a pin on my phone’s map. It looked pretty far from where we were. But I wasn’t good at judging distances on my phone app the way Claire was.

“I’d rather not walk all the way there. We’re not far from the train station,” Claire said. “Let’s go there. We can see a little more of the city, and we know where to pick up a taxi.”

Our route took us past more shops, an art gallery, lots of boutique hotels, and several enticing restaurants. An intriguing church was tucked in between a leather goods shop and a vintage clothing store. We passed a cosmetics store and came out onto a large plaza in front of a grand hotel.

As soon as we were facing the wide intersection and late afternoon traffic, I wanted to go back and wander through the shaded labyrinth and find more narrow streets lined with shops.

Our day had gone too quickly. Florence had many small churches we had passed.

Michelangelo was buried in one of them, and so was Galileo.

I had slipped into an art and history overload at the museum, but if we’d had more time, I would have visited the churches and seen every touch of Renaissance glory that had been added to them hundreds of years ago.

As we stood in line for a taxi, I asked Claire, “What do you think about coming back tomorrow and doing more exploring?”