To Tuscany with Love (29 page)

“I’ve been down here since seven-thirty,” Hope said, “and I haven’t seen her.”

Lee pushed up from the table. “I’ll go knock on her door. Maybe she slept in.” Without a glance at any of them, he slipped into the building and disappeared.

“Uh-
hmm
.” Hope’s voice raised on the second syllable.

Bella remembered the connection between Lee and Meghan during that summer. She wondered whether their love affair had continued after Italy or ended, as Meghan had claimed, on that last day. Bella layered her plate with three paper-thin slices of the cured meats.

“Today we head into Florence for a special treat and a little touring,” Stillman said after downing his breakfast with an obvious appetite. “A small touring van will ferry five of the group down. I’ll join you in a second car, since our large van isn’t here today. Unfortunately, one of you will need to ride with me. Logistics, I’m afraid.”

Bella spoke quickly. “I’ll ride with you, Stillman.”

Stillman beamed at her. “
Grazie
.”

“
Prego
.” She answered with a soft voice.

Phillip leaned in toward her. “Did Stillman take you on a private tour of the estate this morning?”

Phillip’s query felt like an accusation. Damn it. How dare he? Her relationship with Stillman wasn’t his business. He had given up that right a long time ago.

33

W
hile they rode into the city, Stillman chatted about the changes in Florence over the previous thirty years. Television accounts of ongoing art restorations following the Arno’s 1966 flood—a yawn-provoking topic of discussion in every gallery they had visited during their long-ago summer—still continued. Full of energy, he described how the Mafiosi still popped up across Italy, creating havoc and leaving unsolved crimes in their wake.

Stillman boasted about visiting Florence many times since their last weekend together. He told her that his favorite moments of those vacations were when he explored the surprising villages south of Florence. One small hill town, he told her with a secretive smile, was the inspiration for the reunion.

His reference to the hill towns reminded Bella about that infamous weekend with Phillip in Castellina-in-Chianti. A Tuscan village had set her life on a brand-new course thirty years ago. Would Stillman’s inspiration in a hill town now change her life as dramatically?

Bella could see acres of gardens scrolling past her window. Their car slowed down. They drove down a driveway shaded with a row of cypress trees and stopped beside a villa. She rested her hand on Stillman’s forearm. “I’d like to visit some of your favorite hill towns during this trip. After all, it sounds like I have them to thank for bringing you back into my life.”

“We’ll see,” Stillman said. “I’ll have to decide if I want to share them with anyone.”

That was a kick to Bella’s stomach. She had thought she was making headway and returning to Stillman’s good graces, but his comment indicated the opposite. Getting him to love her again might be more of a challenge than she had anticipated.

“When do you plan to tell everyone about David?” Stillman’s face was expressionless.

Sharing that part of her history thrilled and terrified her. She had dreamed of flinging barbed words at Phillip, telling him exactly what he had given up when he ditched her. He had abandoned not only her love, but also his son. The problem was that when that happened, Stillman would know the truth about David, too. Once Stillman knew the secret she had hidden from everyone, that Phillip had fathered her son, could he accept David?

Bella tagged with Meghan through their private tour of a small but storied non-public garden inside Florence’s walls. As they walked, Meghan chatted in wonder about the magnificence of the garden.

Giacomo had driven the van carrying the rest of the group. The wiry Italian’s arms gestured nonstop as he spoke. His tailored slacks moved fluidly with him, exposing handmade leather loafers when he walked and eliciting an admiring, and perhaps envious, muttered comment from Rune. Bella let Giacomo’s explanation of the gardens melt into background music.

Her mind zigzagged with indecision. When, and how, should she disclose that Phillip had fathered her son? Possible scenarios raced through her mind. It was impossible to pay attention to their guide, as he rambled on about the scattered sculptures and manicured botanicals. The group paused in front of a giant ginkgo biloba, which dwarfed the garden’s gazebo. The tree’s magnificent height contrasted with the sparse branches along its trunk.

Meghan’s cold fingers on Bella’s elbow pulled her to the back of the cluster of people. She whispered in Bella’s ear. “Are you all right?”

Bella shook off the question. “Probably jet-lagged.”

Meghan reached into the hemp bag that hung from her shoulder and extracted a slim bottle of water. “Drink more water.” Her hand slid into the bag again. This time she produced a bottle of pills. She tapped a couple into Bella’s hand. “They’re herbal. No side effects. Aid with digestion, travel stomach, bloating, and sleep.”

Bella gazed at Meghan. Her skin, while pale, did appear rested. But other than for her alert eyes, Meghan, in a new unbleached T-shirt and cotton skirt, didn’t broadcast a picture of health.

Bella returned the pills. “Water, yes, pills, no.”

The group moved ahead. Meghan charged forward to hear the explanations.

Bella felt Stillman’s eyes on her. Her feet propelled her forward with the rest of the group. Stillman’s surprising reticence at the end of their ride together replayed in her head. How would he react when he learned about David?

34

T
o Bella’s relief, Meghan took Bella’s place in Stillman’s car when they left the garden. The tightrope of flirting with Stillman to return to his good graces and, at the same time, wanting to blast Phillip had twisted Bella’s stomach into a knot.

They would all soon, perhaps today, talk about the years between college and the present—their work and families. Contemplating the onslaught of questions that would occur after she told them all that she had a son terrified Bella.

Damn it, even if it cost her Stillman, Bella was tired of hiding her past. If Stillman couldn’t deal with it, then so be it. Yes, she loved him and was tired of being alone. But she was almost fifty, a time for action. A second chance at life. What had been her biggest complaint about Phillip? His lying to her. Going down the path of dishonesty was not an option for Bella. On life’s chessboard, it was her move. But when? Her timing had to be perfect.

They drove across the Arno, up Via Cavour, and through the Piazza San Marco. Bella’s eyes found no joy in these landmarks. She fought to steady her breathing and, with it, her anxiety.

Their drivers let them out a few blocks beyond the
Galleria dell’Accademia
. Giacomo waltzed them past the masses of tourists standing in clumps along the sidewalk adjacent to the museum. Fiats and Vespas breezed by them, oblivious to the pedestrians who spilled onto the street as if they were last week’s garbage.

Kiosks of T-shirts, aprons, and boxer shorts featuring the lower anatomy of Michelangelo’s famous statue cluttered the sidewalk along the queue. American tourists in shorts, crew socks, and tennis shoes snapped up the tacky souvenirs, their voices tittered in a suffocating muddle of sound. Tour groups clustered, perspiring and weary, at the entrance. Each set of bobbing heads huddled behind a guide, who spouted out instructions.

Giacomo’s voice competed with the background singsong of several foreign languages spoken simultaneously. Other guides held props—a red umbrella, an enormous sunflower, a sign, or even a striped clown hat perched on a stick. Bella silently thanked Giacomo for saving them from a similar fate, although she couldn’t imagine Rune tolerating any such humiliation.

They bypassed the long line of tourists waiting to buy tickets. Giacomo’s flirtatious banter with the woman guarding the door then moved them ahead of the other ticket holders. No queue for them, just a quick VIP saunter into the museum. Bella heard Rune emit a soft hoot of delight. Once inside, they needed no instruction from Giacomo, who handed them each a guidebook. Without hesitation, they bolted for
David
.

Bella stopped twenty feet short of the base. She wanted to take in the sensuality of the whole sculpture—alone. Perhaps the statue’s quiet strength could rein in her emotions. This marble
David
calmed her. The statue stopped her breath with its beauty.

During the ride here, Giacomo had hinted that controversy surrounded the restoration performed prior to his 500th birthday. It was hard to remember exactly what he had looked like thirty years before, but removing all those years of grime from his surface did add brilliance to his finish. Bella heard Rune up ahead.

“My God, they did clean up his act.” Rune circled the statue. He tromped around the nearly fourteen-foot piece as if it were a prop in a movie. “To my mind, this is a great example of edgy art.”

“Because he carved a massive sculpture from what others had discarded?” Hope asked.

“Because he rejected the effeminate style,” Rune said, consulting his guidebook, “of Verrocchio’s and Donatello’s
Davids
. No secret about Donatello’s proclivities, by the way. Their art was more the style of the day. But hey, Michelangelo carved a guy who actually could slay a giant.”

Lee stood riveted in front of
David
, his head tilted back. “Michelangelo certainly did his anatomical homework. I have a much better appreciation of that now, after med school.” He took two steps back. His head cocked to one side. His voice softened. “Sculpture has been my one enduring love.”

Behind her, Bella felt a presence.

“I like him better without the crowd,” Phillip said in a low voice, so that only she would hear.

She didn’t turn around. “So do I,” she said.

Phillip rested his hand on her shoulder. With effort, she fought the urge to step away from his touch. He traced her arm down to the tips of her fingers, sending a warm torrent rushing down her spine and over her cheeks. He quickly squeezed her hand and then let it go. Good thing—two more seconds of him touching her and Bella would have jerked away.

Happy that he couldn’t see her face, she forced herself to breathe slowly and act normally, as if it had been Lee or Rune who had touched her.

Meghan turned back and gestured for them to come closer. Thankful for the excuse to escape from Phillip, Bella said, “Let’s get a better look.” She raised her voice loud enough for the others to hear. “Giacomo, tell us about that restoration controversy you mentioned in the car.”

Stillman raised a silent eyebrow at Bella when she and Phillip moved to join the group’s semicircle in front of the famous statue. She felt her cheeks flush with heat. Damn it—that flush made her look as if she were a schoolgirl caught kissing by the lockers.