Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“A tavola!” my mom called from somewhere in the house. Dinner.
Isabella and my sister got up and came inside, and I finished getting dressed, hurrying down to the table.
“Matteo,” my mom said. “Why don’t you sit next to your sister, so her friend can sit across from her?”
“Okay.” I didn’t mind because that meant I got to look across at Isabella, too. Once I sat down, my sister wrinkled her nose.
“Did you take a bath in old-man cologne?”
“Shut up.”
Isabella gave me a little smile from the other side of the table, and I felt my skin flush. Seriously? I’d never blushed in my life. I was relieved when my mom started talking and took the attention off me.
“So, Isabella, Luciana said you moved here from da States?”
She nodded. “California.”
“Dat’s a big change.”
She shrugged. “It is. But so far it’s been okay. I’m kind of used to moving around a lot. My dad has his own businesses. He’s going to be giving tours here in Florence. I’ve lived in North Carolina, Massachusetts, Delaware, Alabama, Maryland, and California.”
“Wow. A lot of moving.”
She shrugged again. “I guess.”
“You have a big family?”
“Two brothers. One’s twelve years older and the other fourteen.”
“Dat’s a big age gap.”
She nodded. “The older one didn’t move with us. He lives with his girlfriend in San Diego.”
Throughout dinner, I kept sneaking glances at her as she spoke. Each time she caught me, she gave me that same private smile she’d given me at the window.
When we were done, my mom stood to clear the table. “It’s getting dark out. Matteo, why don’t you walk Isabella home?”
I blinked a few times, filled with panic. “Me?”
“Si, you.” My mom’s eyes narrowed. “Is dere a reason you can’t?”
Other than possibly making a fool of myself, I didn’t have any excuse. I cleared my throat. “No, it’s fine.” I looked over at Isabella. “You ready, Izzy?”
My sister scoffed. “Izzy? What are you? Besties?”
I wasn’t even sure where that had come from, yet when Isabella gave me one of those smiles meant just for me, I knew she’d forever be my Izzy.
Chapter 9
Allegra
ANTONIO FANELLI’S OFFICE was…something.
I sat in the lobby, which looked more like an art studio for someone who was a little deranged. The walls were painted a buttery yellow, and every inch of them was covered in mismatched frames—some big, some small, some holding vintage black-and-white photos and others holding crayon drawings that seemed made by a seven-year-old. A giant crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, and there were dozens of plants in colorful pots all over the floor.
I kept stealing glances at the receptionist, who looked to be in her seventies. She had on a red dress with white polka dots and wore thick black cat-eye glasses. Two additional pairs of spectacles hung from long pearl chains around her neck. A typewriter sat in the middle of her giant desk, surrounded by at least a dozen stacks of files, each nearly a foot high. I’d thought the typewriter was part of the decoration when I first walked in, at least until I heard it clacking.
A door opened behind her, and a man wearing a well-tailored suit walked out. He looked terribly normal for the space he stepped into. “Ms. Bianchi?”
I stood. “Yes. Mr. Fanelli?”
“Antonio, please.” Instead of extending a hand, he kissed both my cheeks. “Come on back.”
I blinked a few times as I stepped into his office. This room was the polar opposite of the one I’d walked in from. Painted stark white, it was sleek and minimalist. The desk had a glass top perched on matte-black metal legs, and only a shiny iMac and one file sat in the middle. Two angular guest chairs, upholstered in charcoal-colored leather sat on one side, and the only other furniture in the room was a coordinating matte-black file cabinet with glass pulls.
Antonio must’ve noticed my face. He smiled. “I’ve been told more than once that it feels like walking into a C.S. Lewis novel.”
I laughed. “It does. I watched The Chronicles of Narnia a dozen times when I was a kid.”
“Eliza has been with me for eighteen years. She’s the best paralegal in Italy, even if she does refuse to use a computer. As you might’ve guessed, she decorated her area, and the attorneys each decorated our own.” He shrugged. “Whatever it takes to keep her happy.”
“All men should be so wise.”
He smiled and extended a hand. “Please, have a seat.”
After we sat, Antonio opened the lone folder on his desk and set some papers and an envelope on top. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Ms. Bianchi was my favorite client. I looked forward to her appointments, and not just because the spinach-and-ricotta pies she brought were out of this world, but because I enjoyed her company so much. She once got a parking ticket while in Florence and asked me to represent her to fight it. While we were in court, she called the judge a bambino and still managed to get the ticket dismissed.” He chuckled. “She didn’t need me to accompany her. She was a hurricane of a woman.”