Honeymoon in Italy Page 11

  The phone vibrating in my pocket brought my wandering mind back. I had turned off the ringer for the tour but was paranoid I’d miss Nico’s call if I didn’t have it on vibrate.

  It was him.

  “Hey,” he said when I answered. “I’m in Rome with your stuff. Where’re you staying? I’ll drop it off.”

  I handed the phone to Stella so that she could tell him how to get to our hotel. I hadn’t paid any attention last night while in the cab since I had been too busy telling Nico our sad sob story about the lost luggage. After she finished giving him directions, she handed the phone back to me.

  “He’s going to meet us at the hotel in half an hour,” she said. “Let’s head back.”

  The lingering disappointment over my parents’ post office box faded away.

  EIGHTEEN

  We only waited in the hotel’s lobby for ten minutes before Nico showed up. He had adjusted Holly’s and Stella’s backpacks so that he could roll them like suitcases behind him, and he wore my backpack on his back. It couldn’t have been easy to travel with three big pieces of luggage like that. Each of them probably weighed forty or fifty pounds. But if the traveling had worn him out, he didn’t show it. He spotted us across the lobby and grinned, giving us a little nod since he didn’t have a free hand to wave.

  If I had been a southern gal, I might have said, Bless his heart.

  “Thank you so much,” Stella said, leading our charge across the lobby toward him. She took Holly’s backpack and practically threw it at Holly. For a moment, it looked like she was going to rip my backpack off his back, but then she froze as though realizing he wasn’t a child and could do it himself.

  “No problem,” he said.

  “What happened?” Stella asked. She rolled her backpack toward her, giving Nico space to put mine down. “How come the luggage didn’t get here?”

  Nico’s eyes flicked to me as he shrugged off my backpack and placed it in front of me. “Just a mix-up,” he said. “But my friend has a cousin who—” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Well, it’s not really interesting how we tracked it down. The bottom line is that we found it.”

  Hmm. I wasn’t sure I believed his story. I didn’t know the guy very well, but if I had learned anything from teaching high schoolers for the last couple years, it was how to spot when the truth was being stretched. I didn’t say anything. If he didn’t want to tell us what happened, that was fine. In fact, it was probably better that way. Now I wouldn’t have to listen to Stella grumble about writing a strongly-worded Yelp review on the bad porter service and Holly telling Stella to stop being so indignant and controlling.

  “You really saved us,” I said. “Again.”

  “Can we take you to lunch?” Stella asked. “How much time do you have? And we’re doing some sightseeing after lunch—we’d love for you to join us.”

  Nico gave a little shrug as though to say, Sure, why not? “That’d be fun. I have some time.”

  I slung my backpack over my shoulders. “I’m going to change into clean clothes before we go. Holly, how about you?”

  Holly looked down at her ill-fitting skirt and her sneakers. Since leaving the Vatican, her sweatshirt had been tied around her waist. Her blue tank top was stretched, clearly having been worn for more than twenty-four hours.

  “Nah, I’m good,” she said. “This outfit has grown on me.”

  Gross, but okay.

  “I’ll take these with me and be right back.” I grabbed Holly and Stella’s backpacks and rolled them behind me as Nico had done. It only took about ten seconds to appreciate him even more. It really wasn’t easy to move three heavy backpacks.

  In the hotel room, I quickly changed into a clean pair of shorts and a black tank top. I brushed my teeth with my own toothbrush and toothpaste and then washed my face with my own face wash. Stella’s products might have been expensive, but they made my already-oily skin feel even oilier. I felt like a new person by the time I dried my face.

  I spotted my sisters and Nico in the lobby sitting in a cluster of chairs, all three leaning in. Holly and Stella had their phones out and looked like they were having an intense conversation with Nico while studying something on their phones. Were they debating which sights to see first? Where to have lunch? It must have been a bigger decision than I realized.

  Holly was the first to see me crossing the lobby. She leaned back, smiled, and waved. Then she stood up. “We’re getting pizza for lunch with our completely honorable and ethical pal, Nico.”

  “Holly!” Stella looked exasperated as she stood up. “Do you ever think before you speak?”

  “We both know the answer to that,” Holly said.

  Nico chuckled and stood. “I’d rather be ethical than ironic,” he said.

  Ah, I knew what had happened while I was gone. I had twenty bucks that said Stella made Holly apologize for that weird ironic comment she made about Vincenzo watching Nico’s store when we were in Florence. Then I bet she explained why she said it, which then led to Nico explaining why Vincenzo was an idiot and not to be believed.

  As confident as I was about what I thought happened, I wasn’t going to ask. Somewhere in Rome there was a pizza calling my name, and that was far more important at the moment.

  ***

  “What is the plan for this afternoon?” Holly asked as we ploughed our way through some of the best margherita pizza I had in my entire life. Nico had said this restaurant wouldn’t disappoint, and it didn’t. Apparently there was something really special about letting pizza dough rise for seventy-two hours.

  “We have a lot of possibilities for the rest of today and tomorrow,” Stella said after dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “There are so many ruins to see here, and we didn’t need reservations or tours, so I just left it open. Nico, do you have suggestions?”

  He shook his head. “Whatever you want to see most—start there.”

  Well, it was now or never. I had waited until the very last minute, and if I didn’t bring it up now, the opportunity would pretty much be lost forever.

  “I have an idea,” I said. “Back when we were in Vernazza and you were chatting it up with Vincenzo at a wine bar, I found Mom’s parents on the internet.”

  My sisters stared at me.

  “I don’t want to knock on their door and introduce myself or anything,” I added hastily. “But I would like to see where they live. There’s no chance of us finding out what Mom and Dad left in their post office box here, and I just don’t want to leave without finding some connection to them.”

  It took another long moment before they responded.

  Holly finished chewing and said, “I don’t have any interest in that.”

  I looked at Stella hopefully. If she was game, we could probably convince Holly to come along.

  Stella smiled at me apologetically. “I don’t really want to do that either. I’d rather see the ancient ruins.”

  Dang. It was two to one, not in my favor.

  Deep down, that was what I expected. And that was probably why I had waited until the last minute to ask.

  “I’ll go with you,” Nico said. “That is, if you three don’t mind splitting up for a couple hours.”

  I looked at Nico. Then at my sisters. And then at Nico again. “Really?”

  “I’ve been to Rome before and seen plenty,” he said. “I’m up for anything.”

  I looked at Stella and Holly again. We really didn’t have to spend every waking minute together while sightseeing. I had taken off to hike in Vernazza and to bike in Florence, so splitting up again wasn’t a new idea.

  “That’s fine with me,” Holly said. “After all, Nico here is completely honorable and ethical—and not at all ironic.” She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him. From her expression, my prior suspicions were confirmed. That was Holly’s I’m-still-really-sorry-please-forgive-me-and-be-my-friend-again look.

  Stella didn’t tell Holly to stop making awkward comments, but she did roll her eyes. “That’s
fine with me, too.” We’ll go see something that doesn’t particularly interest you, and then we can meet up later.”

  We finished lunch, talked about where Holly and Stella were going first, and paid the bill. Outside the restaurant, Nico and I said goodbye to my sisters as they headed toward the city center. On my phone I pulled up my grandparents’ address and mapped it.

  “Looks like it’s about a twenty-minute walk from here,” I said. “You okay hoofing it? I think we’ll get to see the Tiber River along the way.”

  He nodded. “Walking is good.”

  I glanced at the map on my phone again and pointed down the street. “Looks like it’s this way.”

  Probably only fifteen seconds into our walk, Nico said something I wasn’t expecting.

  “Hey, there’s something I want to tell you.”

  Well, shoot. Those words were rarely followed by happy news. What could possibly be wrong?

  NINETEEN

  “Back at the hotel when you took the luggage upstairs, your sisters shared what Vincenzo told them,” Nico said.

  “Let me guess. Stella made Holly apologize for making that ironic comment in Florence.”

  “You know your sisters so well.”

  I smiled at my feet. I sure did know them, whether I liked it or not. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever happened, it’s not my business.”

  “I’d still like to explain.”

  We came to the end of the block, and I checked the directions to make sure we were supposed to continue going straight. It looked like the Tiber would come into view within the next couple minutes.

  “So,” Nico continued, “I didn’t tell your sisters the entire story, but it’s probably better to give a little background. I’ll give you the short version.” He paused, choosing his words. “I grew up in Arizona. My family wasn’t very close, and really, the only happy memories I have from childhood are the trips to Italy we’d take every couple years. After college, I started an online coupon company with the help of a well-off cousin, and that company took off like wildfire. I think it was a right-time-right-place thing. It wasn’t long before I realized I could retire, and since I didn’t want to be part of the American rat race forever, that’s what I did.”

  We came to an intersection, and I pointed to the right so he knew which way we were going. I didn’t want to interrupt him.

  “At that point, I was already married,” he said. “Ashley—my wife—and I decided to move to Italy and spend a couple years traveling. It all started out fine, but it went downhill fast. Ashley liked the idea of Italy, but her idea was different from mine. And I think she expected when we traveled that it would be all first-class and five-star accommodations. I had money, but I wanted to be smart with it. Plus, I thought it was way more fun to travel the way other people our age did. We didn’t have to stay in hostels all the time, but it was more fun to be with groups of young, frugal people than old, rich people.”

  We crossed a street, bringing us right to the Tiber River, which was much greener than I expected. We veered left and continued walking alongside the river.

  “Before I knew it, she was telling me that she had met someone else and wanted a divorce. For awhile, I was just stunned and didn’t believe it. Even after she packed up and moved out, I thought she’d be back. We had known each other since middle school and dated since we were fourteen. I was sure she wouldn’t throw that away. But eventually it sunk in. I was in Vernazza, living in an apartment that had been in my family for generations, pretty much all alone. One night, I was out on the pier by the water, totally upset and confused, totally unsure what to do. I didn’t know if I should go back to Arizona or stay in Italy. There was nothing for me in Arizona, but there wasn’t anything in Italy for me either. Then an old man named Marco sat down next to me. He asked what was wrong, and I told him the whole story. He told me that we all have disappointments in life and that his son was his big disappointment.” Nico gently poked my shoulder with his index finger. “Want to take a guess who his son was?”

  “Vincenzo?”

  “Yep. He told me about Vincenzo being a lazy good-for-nothing and how he had been agonizing over what to do with his wine shop. He wanted to retire, but he couldn’t hand the shop over to Vincenzo, and he couldn’t sell it. People in Vernazza like to keep businesses and apartments in the family.” Nico paused and looked at his feet a moment. “That night, Marco sort of adopted me. He told me it was time to start my new life as an Italian, and he renamed me Nico. The name on my birth certificate is Nicholas, and my entire life people called me Nick, but as of that night, I was Nico. The next day, Marco took me around and introduced me to neighbors, helped me make some friends, made me feel like I was part of a community. There was life after Ashley, and with some time, I started to fit in and enjoy myself. I didn’t start a friendship with Marco thinking that one day I’d take over his shop. I wanted Vincenzo to clean up his act as much as anyone else. But Vin never did, and when Marco finally retired, he passed his shop on to me. He said he couldn’t give it to Vincenzo with a clear conscience. He knew Vin would drive it into the ground and ruin all the decades of work that he had put in. Vin has never entirely forgiven me, but his grudge is only half-hearted. He’s too lazy to put much effort into anything. He’s grumpy about it, but he knows he can hang around and drink wine, and I won’t bug him.”

  That was some story.

  “So, Vincenzo feels like you stole the store from him and likes to tell people that?” I said.

  “Apparently, yes. I didn’t know he was spreading rumors. Maybe he was just mad that I put you in touch with Paola rather than encouraging you to stay at his place. Or maybe he just tells the tourists, and I never hear about it since they eventually leave. No one who lives in Vernazza would believe him, so it would be pointless to spread rumors to locals.”

  “And he said you were still married because…?”

  “No idea. Just wanted to add insult to injury, maybe? I’ve been divorced for two years.” He paused and looked out over the river as we continued walking. “Man, that’s not fun to say. I’m thirty years old and have been divorced for two years. But we shouldn’t have gotten married when we did. We were twenty-three and going through such a whirlwind with the coupon company. We just didn’t have the life experience to see straight.” He looked at me. “Eventually, it all worked out. I love Vernazza. I love my little shop and the tourists and the food and the soccer. It’s been strange getting here, but I love it. I just don’t like when Vincenzo makes me look bad to others.”

  I smiled. “I couldn’t bring myself to believe what he said. I know anything is possible, but still.” I wanted to say more, but what? All the words running through my mind sounded so corny. You’re so nice. You’re so charming. How could you be a cheat or a swindler? You’re so…tall and athletic with such beautiful eyes. Yeah. I couldn’t say that.

  I looked at my phone. “I think we’re getting close,” I said. “We need to cross that bridge up there, and then it’s just a couple blocks further.”

  We walked along in silence for a couple moments. Nearing my grandparents’ home brought on thoughts of my mom and dad, but most of my mind was still back on Nico’s story.

  Halfway across the bridge, I said, “My dad’s name was Marco, just like the man who passed his shop down to you.”

  I could feel Nico’s eyes on me. When he didn’t look away after a couple seconds, I met his gaze. He smiled, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Mind if we stop for a second?” I asked. I veered to the right side of the bridge and leaned my arms on the brick barrier. Nico followed and did the same. “I almost got married when I was twenty-three,” I said. “We didn’t get married, though, because I wasn’t handling my parents’ deaths well, and my fiancé was handling my grief even worse. He couldn’t take it, and he left.”

  Nico bowed his head toward his arms resting on the wall. When he lifted it a moment later, he looked at me sideways and said, “It’s hard growing u
p, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  We continued on our way, entering a little neighborhood with narrow roads and three-story orange, yellow, and beige buildings. Ivy seemed to grow out of crevices everywhere, and laundry hung across lines strung between buildings. The area was cozy, sprinkled with umbrella-covered cafés and bikes leaning against walls.

  After a few minutes of walking, I stopped in front of a brown building with green shutters. “I think this is it,” I said, double checking my phone’s map. “I think they live here.” I looked up to the second story. There at the window sat an old woman gazing down at me. Her expression was blank, and her eyes were empty—but she was definitely staring at me.

  Could that be my grandmother? The woman who disowned my mother?

  The door on the ground level of the building opened, and a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, stuck her head out. “Ciao, Lia?” she said, looking right at me.

  Lia?

  I pointed at myself, confused. Was this girl talking to me?

  She began speaking in Italian. As usual, I had no idea what she was saying, but I knew Nico would translate.

  “Okay, this is Carina,” Nico said to me when the girl fell silent. “She’s the caregiver for a woman named Isa who lives upstairs. Carina was sitting with Isa at the window and saw you walking down the street. You look exactly like someone who is in all kinds of pictures upstairs—someone named Lia—and Carina wanted to see if it was really you.”

  Whoa. Pictures of someone named Lia all over the apartment? Pictures of my mom all over the apartment?

  “Can you tell her that Lia was my mother?” I asked Nico.

  He relayed the message. Carina looked at me, and after a moment, an a-ha expression crossed her face. She launched into a lengthy speech. While she was speaking, I glanced up at Isa. She was still staring at me with hollow eyes.

  When Carina finished speaking, Nico didn’t jump right into translating. He looked at me, trying to figure out what he was going to say. That long pause couldn’t mean anything good.