Page 4 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)

As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was about to happen.

A.A. Milne

Nearly every table was taken when we returned to the restaurant. True, the place was small, but the transformation in less than an hour from our first introduction was surprising.

We entered through the back door and waited in the hallway until two waiters had passed in and out of the kitchen before making a quick dash into the now-vibrant hub of conversations and laughter.

I found it hard to remember how peaceful the space felt when we first entered.

The added high notes of silverware tapping against plates and clinking of glassware in toasts accompanied by the words “cin cin” invited us to be part of the liveliness.

Claire navigated her way through the maze of tables and held up two fingers to the nicely dressed man by the front door. He returned the peace sign as if it were a joke.

“Due,” I said, attempting to use the limited Italian Claire and I had quizzed each other on during our long flight. “Two. Table for two.”

The man gave a courteous tuck of his chin and escorted us to what was now the last open table in the restaurant.

It was also the smallest table and was wedged in between two other parties gathered around tables that should have hosted four people but were accommodating five.

The bartender we’d interacted with earlier was now taking orders, and a younger man was pouring wine behind the bar.

A third waiter delivered plates of pasta to the table beside us and then turned and spoke to us in Italian. We hesitated.

“Do you speak English?” Claire asked.

“Of course. What would you like?”

“Menus?” Claire ventured.

He studied us for a moment. “Are you Paulina’s friends?”

“Yes,” Claire said.

“We’re staying here,” I added with a nod to the back of the restaurant. “My mother-in-law made the reservation for us, but we don’t actually know Paulina.”

He nodded. A pleasant smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “No menus. I will bring you the best.” He turned and was gone.

I hoped his idea of the “best” was the lasagna my palate longed for. I let my shoulders relax and tried to adjust to the proximity of our dinner companions at the other tables.

Claire leaned across our small table. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and the sleek style made her eyes look especially large and expectant. “Don’t look so worried. I have a feeling that whatever they bring us will be delicious.” She drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes.

I did the same and noticed that the air was laced with a variety of fragrances now. Aromatic food was only one of the scents. I also detected smoke and fish.

Two glasses of red wine were placed in front of us, followed by two plates with a modest serving of tiny fish popping out of a mound of sautéed onions and topped with pine nuts and raisins.

“Would it be terrible to say that I was hoping for lasagna?” I whispered.

“This is only the starter. The antipasti.” Claire took a bite and nodded her approval. “Sardines. This is nice. A little olive oil, onions, and maybe a dash of vinegar.”

“It amazes me the way you can deconstruct food like that,” I said. “All my palate tells me is if I think it tastes good or not.”

I didn’t tell Claire, but my taste buds weren’t excited about the antipasti. The flavors launched my appetite, though, and I wondered if that was the intention.

Claire reached for her glass of wine, then drew in a slow breath like a connoisseur before taking a sip and swallowing slowly. She looked at me without blinking. “I think I’m in love.”

I followed her actions of lifting my glass to my nose and then my lips.

I didn’t have wine very often, so my first taste fell into the same category as the sardines.

The sensation on my taste buds was a bit startling, but then the aftertaste of the wine blended with the sardines seemed to be satisfying.

“What do you think?” Claire asked. “Nice, isn’t it?”

I nodded and confessed, “You know how my parents are adamantly against drinking, so wine with meals was not one of the charm school courses I received from my mom.”

Claire took another sip.

“Nathan and I don’t know the first thing about how to select wine or how to pair it with a meal.”

“I don’t know much either,” Claire said. “But I decided that if I was given the opportunity on this trip to drink wine that was ordered by someone who knew about such things, I was going to enjoy it all.” She raised her glass, and I did the same before letting another taste linger on my tongue.

The next dish was a plate of rice and peas in a creamy sauce. The delicious and satisfying flavors had the effect of comfort food, and I finally felt I could lean back and stop being hesitant about everything.

“You know what feels strange?” I said. “No one is staring at us.”

“Why should they?”

“We’re the outsiders. Tourists. When I traveled with my mom and dad, I could feel people staring at us.”

“Your mom tends to draw attention,” Claire said. “Not in a bad way. She just has an air about her.”

“I know. She does, doesn’t she?”

“I hope it didn’t sound like I was saying that your mom is aloof. She’s not. She’s classy. And kind and generous. I love your mom. Did I tell you she gave me some money last week so I’d have extra souvenir funds?” Claire asked.

I smiled. “She gave me some too.”

“You know what?” Claire leaned in closer and looked serious. “We decided that this trip was going to be a chance for us to try new things.”

“True.”

“So let’s be brave and try new things. If someone stares at us because we have no idea what we’re doing, so what? Everything is new to us.”

“You’re right.”

Our server placed a dish in front of us with layers of pasta stacked up. I hoped it was lasagna. Then I took a closer look. “Claire, why is the sauce black?”

“That must be the squid ink.”

“The what?”

Claire took a hearty first bite. “Oh, that’s good. I was hoping we’d have something tonight made from local scampi. Look at all the little curly shrimp in there. And the Parmesan cheese is amazing.” Claire dove in for a second bite.

When I hesitated, she grinned and said, “Bravery, remember? Try new things.”

I took a bite and was surprised. She was right. It was nice and tasted even nicer with a sip of wine. If squid ink had a distinct taste, I couldn’t detect it.

The final course was served, and we could see by the layers in the glass dessert bowls that it was tiramisu. However, this was unlike any tiramisu I’d ever had. I scraped the sides of the glass with my spoon, trying to nab every bit of it.

“What a great dinner,” Claire said after we paid the bill.

“I don’t think I would have ordered any of those dishes if I had seen a menu in English, but it was all good.”

“I loved it. Did you have a lot of meals like that when you traveled with your family?”

I thought for a moment. “I’ll never forget the drinking chocolate we had at Angelina’s on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. Oh, and the orange blossom macarons at Ladurée on the Champs-élysées. Those were so good.”

“Sounds decadent.”

“I also loved the fruit scones with clotted cream we had at afternoon tea at the Ritz in London. That was memorable. And we had some sort of cherry pastry in a village in Denmark that was so good I ordered a second one.” I smiled at the memory and added, “Funny how all my food memories are of desserts.”

“You know what always amazes me about you?” Claire said.

“My sweet tooth?”

“No. It’s how down-to-earth you are. I never knew you’d traveled so much until we started planning for this trip. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never acted like a rich girl or bragged about all your first-class experiences.”

“The rich girl days were back in my childhood. My life is nothing like that now.”

“I know. But I love that you don’t act like you’re from money.”

I thought about her comment when we returned to our room and while I took a shower.

Once we were in our beds and about to go to sleep, I said, “You know what I realized? I’ve been married to Nathan longer than I lived under my parents’ roof.

My mom taught me the finer things in life, but Nathan has taught me the simple things and that’s how I want to live.

I mean, I’m grateful for all the experiences my parents gave me, but I don’t miss that life.

There were always so many expectations.”

“Kind of like how things have been at work for you this past year?” Claire asked. “The way your boss keeps handing all the extra jobs over to you ever since his wife passed away?”

“It’s not too bad,” I said.

“Grace, he has you picking up his dry cleaning and scheduling his lawn maintenance. I’ve told you this before. I know he’s paying you extra, but I think he’s taking advantage of you and your kindness to him.”

“I know. But I’ve been working for him since before Emma was born. How can I resign?”

“Like this. You say, ‘I resign.’”

I didn’t reply.

The sisterly-advice tone in Claire’s voice lowered. “I am not trying to be insensitive. I know it’s a complicated situation. But didn’t you tell me that you and Nathan are the most stable you’ve ever been financially? Didn’t he say that if you didn’t work for a year you’d be okay?”

“Yes. That’s because of the inheritance from my grandfather.”

“Well, just think about that. And don’t worry about what your boss will think of you if you resign. You’ve been caught up in the whirlpool of his life and have gone above and beyond to make things easier and better for him.”

“I know.”

“All I’m saying is that you’re not responsible for keeping his practice afloat.” Claire reached over and turned out the light. “Now, to change the subject and give us something to dream about, I need to tell you about the promise I made to Jared.”

“Okay. What did you promise?”

“Remember how you were saying your mom introduced you to the finer things in life? Well, my parents pinched every penny, and I tend to be more like them. As you also know, my husband likes to splurge every now and then, and he made me promise I would splurge on our trip.”

“I can help you with that,” I said. “We’ll start by ordering two tiramisus next time.”

“Actually, I was thinking gelato should be our first big splurge. Did I tell you I made a list of all the gelaterias in Venice?”

I laughed. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know. The list is long. One of them opens at nine tomorrow morning.”

“With that to look forward to, I believe we are going to have sweet dreams tonight.”

“Yes. Gelato dreams,” Claire said.

“Gelato dreams,” I echoed. “Love you, Claire.”

“Love you, Grace.”

Sleep came in two pieces. The first three hours were immediate and deep. Then I woke up and felt like I should check my phone. That was a mistake.

I soon fell into the trap of scrolling, even though I told myself I wasn’t going to be phone dependent while we were traveling.

I’d already let Nathan know we had arrived in Italy.

He’d replied, and all was well at home. No messages were waiting for me from work.

I didn’t need to check anything else like the weather or how many steps I had taken that day. But I did.

Forcing myself to put my phone back on the nightstand, I tried to fall back asleep.

My thoughts tumbled into a deep hole as I ruminated on Claire’s comments about work.

Even though it was financially feasible, resigning before our trip hadn’t felt right.

I hoped Mary, who was filling in, was keeping up with everything.

I tried to let it all go and dozed off and on for a few more hours.

I finally gave up trying to sleep when I saw the morning light shyly slinking into the room through the edges of the front door, creating faint lines on the tile floor.

I stood and tiptoed around our room, gathering my clothes.

I felt like I had a weight on my head. Claire was having no problem staying in dreamland.

She didn’t even stir when I opened the bathroom door and it creaked loudly.

My eyes were puffy, so I pulled out all the aids in my makeup bag and began a futile effort to look fresh and friendly. I was surprised that my hair combed out nicely after washing it last night. I let it fall over my shoulders, and once I was dressed, I decided to go outside and visit the garden.

“Morning,” Claire said in a groggy voice as I exited the bathroom. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay. Not great. How about you?”

“I slept deep. This bed is so comfy.”

“Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said with a yawn.

“I’m going to step outside and have a look at the garden. I’ll make some coffee when I come back.” The cool morning air scurried into the room as I opened the door.

“I can make the coffee.” Claire pulled the thick comforter up to her chin. “Just give me one more minute in this perfect cocoon.”

I left her to her bliss and stepped into mine.

The pale morning sunlight illuminated the garden in the cool morning air. Two small birds flew to the edge of the fountain, where the water glistened like silver. I watched as they shimmied and dipped and then fluttered off to start their day with drip-dry wings.

Taking slow steps, I rounded each garden bed, admiring the healthy-looking tomato plants along with the eggplant, carrots, celery, onions, scallions, and zucchini.

I spotted what looked like the start of a few pumpkins.

In one of the beds, nasturtiums tumbled over the sides, brightening the corner of the wooden box with their orange and yellow flowers.

The final box held stunning rosebushes. I smiled, thinking of how the bouquet in our room must have come from this well-tended garden.

The door of room number two opened, and a woman wearing a simple blue dress with a wide belt stepped out into the garden. Her white hair was carefully pulled up in an elegant chignon. I noticed her flat shoes because they were floral.

She smiled at me and said, “Buongiorno!”

I repeated the “good day” greeting and hoped she didn’t say anything else in Italian that I might not understand. Blessedly, she tilted her head slightly and said a single word that I understood and welcomed.

“Cappuccino?”