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Julia eyed the portrait up and down. Caterina was beautiful, with wide-set blue eyes, a longish nose, a pretty mouth with a somewhat receding chin.

Her light brown hair was pulled back, and the blue hood of a cape draped around her head.

She wore a pearl choker with a crucifix and a dark velvet gown.

Underneath her, it read, DUCHESS CATERINA SFORZA next to the Sforza coat of arms, which was divided into four quadrants; two of black dragons on a gold background, and two of a coiled blue viper devouring a man on a white background.

Julia turned to Anna Mattia. “The lawyer told me Signora Rossi thought she was related to Caterina Sforza. Did she ever tell you how?”

“No.”

“Do you know why she thought that?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Was it true? Did you believe her?”

Anna Mattia shrugged. “Is possible. The Sforza very rich, very famous Milanese family.”

“Is that where she got her money from?”

“Yes, she say.” Anna Mattia pointed up at the portrait. “Signora love Caterina. She love ’er clothes, jewel, pearl. Signora love pearl like Caterina. She ’ave many necklace, earring.” Anna Mattia touched her own pearl-dot earrings. “She give.”

“They’re so pretty.”

“Signora know about Caterina. She read everyt’ing .”

Julia mulled it over, resolving to research Caterina on her own.

She crossed to the window and took in the view, which was even more bizarre.

The vineyard was overgrown, so rows of grapevines had become mounds of underbrush, vegetation.

Trees struggled to grow here and there, and patchy streaks of wildflowers and weeds shaded the hillsides between dark and thorny thatches of vines that twisted, tangled, and spread everywhere.

It looked as if Mother Nature had drawn lines and scribbled over and over them, until order turned to madness.

Oddly, a large white dog slept in front of a pile of rusted wire and a black tarp. “Whose dog is that?”

“Signora’s. Is Bianco, a Maremmano, Tuscan dog. Is eight year old.”

“That trash isn’t his doghouse, is it?”

“No, is for geese. Vineyard ’ave geese to eat bugs.”

“So grapes grew here once?”

“Yes.” Anna Mattia gestured to Julia’s engagement ring and wedding band. “Your ’usband come soon?”

Julia swallowed, caught short. “Um, no, my husband passed.”

Anna Mattia’s hooded eyes flared. “ Dio , I am sorry. ’E was sick?”

“No. He was… murdered.” Julia felt a sudden wave of grief, thinking of Mike, how he should be alive, how there were no leads in his case, and how there might never be.

“Okay?” Anna Mattia asked, but before Julia could say yes, Anna Mattia took her arm and led her to the reclining couch. “Sit. Wait. Aspete .”

“I’m fine,” Julia told her, but Anna Mattia had already gone into a bathroom off the bedroom, then returned with a glass of water and handed it to her. “Drink.”

“Thank you.” Julia took a sip and flashed on her mother, getting her a glass of ginger ale, in which she had endless faith, saying, In Canada Dry we trust .

Anna Mattia sat down and looked at Julia with a new tenderness. “Is wrong, ’e die so young.”

“I think that every day. I wish he were here.”

“Dead and alive ’ere. ’E is ’ere, Signora ’ere, too. Everywhere.” Anna Mattia moved her gnarled little hands in the air. “Together.”

Julia wondered if the dead could be among the living. Oddly, she felt like she was the dead among the living.

“Anima. Soul. All ’ere.” Anna Mattia gestured to her chest. “My Sofia, I lose when she is nine years.”

Oh no. “I am so sorry.”

“After church, we come ’ome, we eat. We ’ave bread, it catch ’er throat. She choke.” Anna Mattia’s hooded eyes filmed. “I can no save, Piero can no save.”

“I’m so sorry.” Julia imagined the awful scene.

A frantic mother and father, trying to save their little girl.

Then she flashed on Mike, bleeding to death in her arms, his gaze heavenward.

She realized it was uniquely hellish to experience the unnatural death of someone you loved, not only horrifying, but literally against nature.

“My Sofia, she ’ere now. We talk.” Anna Mattia lifted a graying eyebrow. “You talk your ’usband?”

“No,” Julia answered, nonplussed. “I think about him, but I don’t talk to him.”

“Why no?”

“It never occurred to me.” Julia never talked to her mother, either. Maybe she would start crying and never stop.

“Ask for sign. I ask, Sofia give. It ’elp me suffer.” Anna Mattia winced. “No, my English is wrong. It ’elp me not suffer. ’Ow you say?”

“It eased your suffering?”

“ Sì, certo .” Anna Mattia patted Julia’s arm.

“Sofia, she love a pink flower. Gladiolus, wild lily. Some light, some dark. Sofia pick it always. Someday, I come to my kitchen and I see on the floor a petal from this flower. She give me and Piero. A sign of love.” Anna Mattia slid the water glass from Julia’s hand and set it on a side table.

“You miss your ’usband? Ask for sign. Go, now. ”

“Go where?” Julia asked, confused, but Anna Mattia rose and pulled her to her feet.

“Out.” Anna Mattia led her from the bedroom, and Julia followed her downstairs to the kitchen door, then realized something. Today’s horoscope hadn’t made sense until this very minute.

Let go, and go.