Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

MAY 2019

Monday

Too tired to function any longer, Tori allowed herself a half-hour catnap, which stretched to two hours when she slept right through her phone alarm. Determined to stay organized, she rose and began taking her clothes out of her suitcase and giving them a good shake before hanging them in the tiny wardrobe or placing them in the shallow chest of drawers by the bed. She hoped that unpacking would calm her. Despite the nap, she was unnerved by how alone and claustrophobic she'd felt after speaking with Molly. She was far from home, and the fourth-floor room was so small and narrow. She needed to go outside and be among people again. And she also should eat something. Maybe a good Italian meal would settle her nerves as well as fill her stomach.

Anticipating that the weather would grow cooler as the evening approached, she took a shower and put on a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved top, then found the light jacket she'd packed. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she made her way down the three flights of stairs. As Emilio had mentioned, his daughter was now at the front desk—Tori recognized her immediately, since she had the same small mouth and clear blue eyes as her father. She looked to be in her mid-forties, and was wearing a sleeveless yellow button-down dress. Her thick, dark hair was pulled into a low bun, some gray tendrils hugging her temples.

" Buona sera ," the woman said. " Posso aiutarla? "

"Um… mangiare … food?" Tori stammered.

"Oh, you must be the American guest my father told me about," the woman said. Her accent was pretty and much thicker than her father's. "Hello, I'm Donata. You are wanting… something to eat?"

Tori nodded.

"It will be best to walk back to the piazza near the ferries," she said. "There are many good places there, and you can eat outside and watch the sun lowering over the water. You shouldn't have any difficulty, as everyone speaks English. Do you remember how to walk back there?"

"Yes, thank you. Grazie ," Tori said. Another pang of homesickness made her stomach sink. She envied this family, being together right now. She missed Molly and Marilene.

She went outside and retraced her steps along the sun-bleached brick street. Slowly, she felt refreshed by the sea breeze, which was cool on her arms, and the scent of green shrubbery mixed with a touch of citrus. The neighborhood was more crowded now than when she'd arrived, with people walking and riding bikes all around her. She reached the piazza, where restaurants were coming back to life, the waiters rolling back the awnings and setting votive candles on round bistro tables in anticipation of the coming darkness. Lines were forming alongside many of the eateries, and hosts were efficiently seating the parties and offering menus. Tori tried to make sense of the posted menus on the walkway outside of each restaurant, but many did not have English translations.

Deciding to take a different tack, she looked around to see what was coming out of the restaurants' kitchens. At the closest one, she watched as a mustached waiter placed a huge bowl of pasta in the center of a group of diners seated on the patio. Though she couldn't tell what type it was, the rich red sauce looked delicious, and when the smell of tomatoes and herbs reached her, she knew she'd found the perfect place. She hoped there wouldn't be a problem asking for a table for just one.

That's when she noticed that the pasta had been served to Emilio and a couple—a man and a woman about the same age as he was. Evidently noticing her at about the same moment, Emilio waved and gestured to an empty chair beside him.

"Signorina Coleman," he called. "Join us for dinner!"

She hesitated. She wasn't sure she could carry on a whole conversation over dinner with people she didn't know, especially if the others at the table didn't speak English. Yet she also knew that it would be difficult to order a meal by herself, given that she hadn't been able to make sense of most of the menus she'd seen. Plus, Emilio was warm and friendly, and she could use a little company this evening.

She nodded. " Grazie ."

He stood and pulled out the empty chair for her, then introduced her to the others. "This is Tori, our guest visiting from New York," he said, then turned to Tori. "And this is Gabriella and her brother Dante. They are good friends who own the bookshop at the near end of the piazza."

"How nice to meet you," Tori said as she shook each one's hand.

" Molto piacere ," the woman responded. She was wearing sunglasses and a pink-and-black geometric scarf around her gray ponytail. "The pleasure is ours." Her brother, a slender man with long, thinning gray hair, wearing a pressed white polo shirt, nodded.

The waiter returned with four wide-mouthed bowls, setting one before each of them. He also placed a wine glass before her and filled it from the bottle in the middle of the table. Then, manipulating two forks expertly in one hand, he divided the pasta among the four of them.

Emilio lifted his glass. " Salute ," he said, and Tori and the others followed suit. The wine was the color of rubies, and tasted rich and fruity, though not overly sweet, with a subtle spicy kick. Then he tucked his napkin into the top of his button-down shirt. " Buon appetito! " he said, and everyone nodded and picked up their forks.

He leaned toward Tori and added, "Bucatini all'Amatriciana. The best dish Anzalea offers. I guarantee it."

"And Emilio is a pasta expert—as you can tell by how tight his shirt is!" Dante joked.

Emilio wagged a finger good-naturedly at Dante, then went on to list the ingredients—pomodoro tomatoes, pecorino cheese, chili peppers, white wine and something called guanciale , which he translated as salted pork jowl. While that didn't sound particularly appetizing to her, the dish looked wonderful, and so she speared one of the narrow tubed-shaped noodles on her plate. She closed her eyes and chewed, releasing a satisfied sigh. Then she opened her eyes and nodded at Emilio. He was right—it was heavenly, and quite likely the most delicious pasta dish she'd ever eaten. The pasta was firm and the sauce clung fast to it, full of flavor—slightly sweet, slightly tart, a little sharp, and lusciously rich.

"So, Tori, is this your first time in Italy?" Gabriella said after they'd all savored their first bite. Tori loved how she pronounced her name, placing the emphasis on the second syllable and elongating the "ee" sound.

"No, I was here many years ago, when I was a student traveling through Europe," Tori answered. "But I've never been to this particular area before."

"Not many people have," Dante said. "It was a hidden gem. Now it's become quite overrun, with the island and the castle opening up after so many years. It's almost like New York City… what is that called? Times Way? Times Place?"

"Times Square , fratellino ," Gabriella said, teasingly patting her brother's shoulder. "How ignorant you are! Times Square—the crossroads of the world, yes?"

"That's what they call it," Tori said. "And it's not quite as busy here. But it is more crowded than I'd expected."

"I envy you," Gabriella said. "It's lovely being here for the first time. I grew up in Roma and have lived in many cities around Europe. But there's nothing quite as wonderful as your first sight of this castle rising out of the Mediterranean. I'm afraid I've gotten used to it. That's why I love being surrounded by visitors. Even the loud ones are silenced when they first take in this view."

"It is stunning," Tori agreed, looking out over the blue water, shining with the reflection of the lowering sun, the gold seeming to stretch across the horizon. The castle somehow looked closer than it had earlier in the day, and the color now appeared more charcoal than slate. The tower and domes cast shuddering shadows on the water.

"And what brings you to the castle?" Gabriella said. "If that's where you're headed during your stay."

"Yes, the castle," Tori said. She hesitated before continuing. Somehow her story seemed too private to share. Too fraught. But then again, she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Many people went searching for family these days. And besides, these people all lived here, in the shadow of Parissi Island and Parissi Castle. Maybe one of them had information that could help her find her grandmother. "I recently learned that my grandmother stayed there for a while."

"Is that right?" Dante said. "How interesting. When was that?"

"She was there when the Nazis attacked the island. It's a complicated story. I never met her, and actually, I only recently learned that she was my grandmother. But the museum may have some information about her, I think. And there's something there on display that she made. A wedding gown."

The three of them froze. "Yes?" Gabriella said, lowering her fork. "The wedding gown in the center gallery? Your grandmother is Giulia Sancino?"

Tori nodded, surprised that Giulia was so well-known. "Although as I said, I only just learned of this. I'm hoping to meet her, and I'm hoping the people at the museum can help me find her."

"She is still alive?" Gabriella said. "I thought she had died long ago."

"I read that, too, on the museum's website. But there was a comment under the photo of the dress from someone who said they knew her. The person said she was still alive and making dresses, at least until recently. I wrote to the museum director but he couldn't tell me anything about the person who commented. I'm hoping there is some information at the museum that can lead me either to my grandmother or to the person who saw her. Maybe there's something in the archives, they said I could search there. You see, she… well, I have a lot of questions for her," she added quietly.

"Of course, you do," Gabriella said. "Wouldn't we all like to reunite with a grandparent from long ago?"

"And she has a great-granddaughter, too. My daughter, Molly. She's eleven."

"How lovely," Gabriella said. "Is she traveling with you?"

"No. She's home. Staying with my… with a close family friend," Tori said, correcting herself. But while it may have been accurate, identifying Marilene this way left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"She has school," she added. "Now wasn't a good time for her to come with me."

"Well, then you must find Giulia. For your daughter's sake as well as yours," Gabriella said firmly. "Unfortunately grandparents leave us much too soon, don't they? Way before we ever really know them as people. Way before they can know how their own story continues."

" Amen per questo ," Emilio said. "No truer words were ever spoken." He lifted his wine glass and smiled at Gabriella—holding his gaze a little longer than Tori would have expected. His eyes sparkled from the sun before he looked at his glass and then took a sip and returned to his meal, his cheeks reddening. In that moment, Tori had the distinct impression that he might be in love with her.

"That island was the scene of quite a tragedy," Dante said, as the conversation continued. "So many talented artists died when the Nazis came and destroyed all that Patricio Parissi had built. Did you know that he created a glorious retreat there, and that artists and writers and inventors came from all over the world to do their best work? Such a loss for the families they left behind. Such a loss for humanity, too. Who knows what works of art and literature, what brilliant inventions never saw the light of day?"

"But apparently Giulia Sancino may be alive," Gabriella said. "Oh, for your sake, Tori, I hope she is. And I hope you find her."

"Thank you," Tori said. "If she is alive, I have to find her. I don't think I could go home without knowing for sure where she is."

They finished eating, and Tori felt the time change catching up with her again. Emilio paid the bill—"my treat," he insisted when the others tried to contribute, and then Dante suggested they go down the street for an after-dinner digestivo .

"Grappa, or maybe Limoncello?" he said to Tori. "That would complete your first evening here in Anzalea to perfection."

"I think I need to get some sleep—I'm fading fast," Tori said. " But thank you for dinner, Emilio, and thank you all for the wonderful conversation. It was a beautiful beginning to my trip."

"I'm working at the castle all day tomorrow, so perhaps I will see you," Emilio said. "And please remember to be on time to the dock for your return."

"Good luck on your search, Tori," Gabriella said. "What a wonderful story it would make if you do indeed find your talented grandmother. For you and her. And for your daughter, too."

They all started to rise, and Tori saw Emilio reach for Gabriella's chair to pull it out. Then he took her shawl from the back of her chair and held it out. Gabriella looked at him, her smile amused but warm, before turning around so he could drape it over her shoulders. As she grasped the ends and crossed them over her chest, Tori found herself thinking about Jeremy. How she missed looking at Jeremy the way Gabriella was looking at Emilio. How she missed the feeling so neatly captured in Gabriella's and Emilio's eyes as they looked at one another. Would they ever look at each other that way again? Or had she closed that door for good?