“They suspended the sculpture above the church’s old sacristy in a way that allows us to see it from every angle.”
The moment was unlike anything Rose had ever known.
“Lyon, this is so special. I can’t believe I’ve actually just purchased a home in Florence and I’m now standing a few feet away from a Renaissance masterpiece. This all seems almost surreal.”
They walked around the wooden crucifix several times, observing the serene and sublime Christ.
“I thought you’d like it. The crucifix was lost for centuries and they found it, I think, in the 1960s. It’s recently been restored and put back here, which was its original home.” He paused. “Zoey told me the way to your heart is through Michelangelo, so I thought I’d try to impress you.”
“You have. I didn’t even know this existed.”
“It really is spectacular and off the beaten path. How about a glass of red wine to celebrate the day?”
“Yes! Let me call Zoey.”
Zoey told Rose that her husband, Stan, had run into some guy named Ben Pierce the other night at a bar downtown. They got to talking and Stan mentioned that his wife taught at Bellfield.
“This Ben guy started asking a million questions about you,” Zoey said.
“Ancient history,” Rose said. “We dated way back in high school. I bumped into him a few weeks ago.”
As Rose spoke to Zoey she glanced over at Lyon and realized that he had just shown her something far deeper than any experience she had ever had with Ben.
“Talk to you later,” she said to Zoey, somewhat somberly.
“Everything okay?” asked Lyon.
“Yes,” said Rose. “All good. Zoey is going to meet us at the restaurant in an hour.”
Lyon led them out the door and took her hand as they walked in companionable silence for the next few blocks. Rose looked over at Lyon’s profile, wondering why she felt as if she had always known him.
“So, what happens when we’re neighbors?”
“Neighbors?” she asked.
“I live a few blocks away from your new place. Sounds like you’re seeing someone in the States?”
“No,” Rose said. “Not involved with anyone at the moment. How about you?”
“There was someone, but we recently split. It’s complicated. I’m not sure that now is the time to go over it.”
“Then don’t. Today, I made the only commitment I really care about for a while. I want to live in the present and not overthink things the way I always have. The next month is going to be exciting. I’m ready to move in now.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lyon said.
The restaurant was on a side street and appeared to be a local hangout. Rose eyed the amber walls, colorful array of landscape paintings and strategically placed steel spice racks. They made their way through the crowd and found seats at the end of the bar. Lyon ordered them a bottle of pinot noir in Italian, and judging by the bartender’s expressive gestures, Rose surmised that it was an expensive bottle. Lyon dismissed her desire to split the tab. For the next hour, the conversation and the wine flowed easily.
“Someday, I’d love to take you to Tuscany to see my family’s vineyard.”
“I thought you said you’re from South Africa.”
“My parents bought a winery here about seven or eight years ago. They decided that they love the food and culture in Italy better than anywhere else.”
“So, you’re a vintner too?”
“Actually, I have several businesses, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”
Rose smiled and sipped her red wine. “What’s with the ten tattooed on your right wrist?”
“I’m celebrating ten years of sobriety.” They both laughed. “Actually, it’s my lucky number.”
“Not buying it.”
“Okay, I almost died ten years ago in a climbing accident and I vowed to change the way I approached life.”
“And did you? Change, I mean.”
“Yes. And the Sanskrit represents my commitment to all things ethereal.”
“As seen in poetry.”
He nodded and smiled. “My father is a poet who taught at Oxford for twenty years. Do you believe in fate?”
“I love that he was a teacher, and, frankly, right now, I believe in staying present and not questioning things too much. If my mom had her way, my whole life would have been planned out. I was given a promotion to be a dean at the private school where I teach. My mother is extremely upset that I gave up a good job and security to move here with no real plan. It’s the first time in my life that I don’t have a set of goals. I really just want to explore life here and paint . . . but also, not to answer to anyone.”
“So, you’ve always been an overachiever and maybe even a bit of a people pleaser?”
“Kind of vanilla, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m curious about your interest in painting.”
“Do you know you’re the first person to ask me that?”
“Really? Why hasn’t anyone encouraged your art?”
“Well, Zoey has been very supportive. Unfortunately, my mom thinks artists are these bohemian crazy people with no values,” she laughed. “Seriously, I have no idea why.”
He pondered her comments. Rose admired his hands but quickly shifted her gaze when Zoey walked in and waved to them from across the bar, weaving through the crowd.
“Hey, guys.”
Lyon spoke to the waiter, and they were soon seated in a nearby booth. Once her friend was settled, Rose told her all about their visit to the basilica.
“You told me the way to her heart was through Michelangelo, so I figured I’d show her something off the beaten path.”
“Oh, Zoey, I’ve got to take you tomorrow. It’s such a beautiful masterpiece in a church that looks nondescript from the outside.”
Suddenly, Lyon’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself from the table for a few minutes.
“You two were looking very cozy when I walked in,” said Zoey as she studied her friend.
“I like him. He’s so interesting.”
“Well, looks like he’s got some competition.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It sounds like Ben is really interested in you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I just ran into him at a coffee shop. We were together in high school. No big deal.”
“Hmm. This is all very entertaining.”
Rose took a sip of her red wine. “I’m glad you’re amused, but I’m a free agent who’s about to become a homeowner.”
“We’ll have to fast-forward three months from now and see how you’re doing. I predict there may be some romance in your life.”
“Well, I’m certainly in love with Florence and my new apartment.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Zoey, clinking glasses.
Lyon returned to the table looking upset. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got to take care of some business. I’m going to need to head on for an hour or so.” He stared at Rose. “I’ll find you later. Ciao.”
After he departed, Zoey said, “He’s so charming.”
“He said he’s married to his businesses.”
“That’s okay. What else does he do?”
“I have no idea, but his parents own a winery.”
***
Rose ordered the chicken Bolognese, and Zoey decided upon a flaky white fish over linguine in clam sauce. Rose looked around at the young, hip crowd and admired a lanky woman’s impossibly high heels. “On to more weighty matters. Did you buy any boots today?”
“You should see them; they’re black over-the-knee wedges. They cost a fortune, so I’m probably done with my shopping.”
“I’m certainly done with mine too! I can’t believe I just bought a house. It’s
so crazy that this is all happening. I sent Jack some pictures and he wrote that he and Nicky are spending summers here.”
“Wait a minute. He’s going to have to stand in line behind Stan and me!” Zoey winked. “Just kidding. Have you told Doris yet?”
“Not yet. I’m still trying to figure out my approach. What would she think of Lyon?”
“Now that’s a good one,” said Zoey, trying to suppress a laugh. “Well, he’s not Southern.”
“Nope. He’s half black and half English. His father taught poetry at Oxford. Just saw the family picture on his desk.”
“So that’s how he’s got those sexy soulful eyes. The plot thickens.”
“Do you think he’s married, or maybe was? I don’t see a ring.”
“There’s got to be an ex somewhere,” Zoey said. “He’s way too good looking to be living alone.”
The waiter set down steaming hot plates artfully arranged with rosemary and wildflower garnishes. Rose sampled the chicken, which melted in her mouth as the taste of fresh garlic lingered.
“No wonder this place is so crowded.” Zoey gave her fish a thumbs-up as they debated how they were going to spend their last two days. “Let’s go to the Laurentian Medici Library for a visit. Michelangelo designed it.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Rose said.
Just as they were finishing up, Lyon reappeared, smiling and at ease again.
“Hey, glad I caught you. All is well. Anyone want to go dancing? I know this great little club a few blocks from here. A couple of my friends are going. I can introduce you.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Zoey, who looked at Rose. “Sure. I’d love it. Let me do a quick change at the hotel and I can be ready in about forty-five minutes. Will that work?”
“I think you look lovely the way you are, but I understand. I’ll pick you up in an hour. You’ll love this club, I promise.”
***
Once back in the hotel room, Rose raced to get ready, quickly throwing off her jeans and digging into her suitcase for something suitable to wear.
“I’m going to email Stan so that he has a love note when he wakes up tomorrow morning.”
“You guys are so adorable. I wish—”
“You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you’re going to wear some non-sensible shoes, girlfriend.” Zoey rummaged in her suitcase and pulled out a pair of black stilettos. “Try these on.”
“I don’t think I can even walk in those things, let alone dance in them.” Rose looked at the label. “These are Prada. Where did you get them?”
“A second-hand designer website. You know how I love my heels.”
“Smart . . . How high are these?”
“Five inches. Give them a try. They’re gorgeous.”
“Maybe you should stop teaching English and start your own fashion blog.”
“That could be dangerous.”
Rose used Zoey’s straightener to redo her hair, adding some corkscrew curls on the ends. Zoey insisted on doing her eye makeup and added a layer of black liner to emphasize her blue eyes.
“Try this black halter top. I think it would look great on you,” she said, rummaging through her bag. “You’ve got some black skinny jeans somewhere in that bag of yours.”
A short time later, Rose looked at her black outfit in the mirror and smiled; she felt confident and happy. The heels were stunning. She and Zoey, who wore a black floral-print dress, posed together for a selfie, which Zoey posted on Instagram with the caption Girls Night Out #funinflorence #teacherscandance.
Lyon was waiting for them outside with a black town car and a driver.
“I could get used to this,” said Zoey. He greeted them warmly with a European peck on both cheeks. A short time later, they arrived at what looked like a stone townhouse, and Lyon ushered them to a side door to a back courtyard filled with partygoers. A band was playing under a tent, and Lyon greeted several of his friends.
“This is Dominique and her brother, Jean-Paul. These are my American friends, Rose and Zoey. Rose just bought her first place here.”
Rose greeted them and shook their hands; Dominique’s red fingernails and silk neck scarf made her glad that she had allowed Zoey to dress her. Next, he introduced them to Giovanni and Salvatore, who produced their own line of women’s shoes. Zoey was thrilled to make their acquaintance and immediately launched into a series of probing questions that made Giovanni embrace her.
“What a delightful and discerning young woman,” he exclaimed as he noticed her shoes, “with impeccable taste.”
Lyon took Rose over to a side terrace with leafy green urns. “I think Zoey will be thoroughly entertained. Giovanni is a master of his craft and he’s a great storyteller.” Lyon paused and locked eyes with Rose. “You look amazing tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Suddenly, the band began playing a disco beat with American words. “Perfect timing!” Lyon said. The crowd cheered and came to life when the DJ took the stage.
“Who is it?” asked Rose, standing on her toes trying to see through the crowd.
“It’s Zedd, one of the most popular DJs in the world. Ready?”
Lyon easily led her out to the dance floor, and their bodies touched momentarily as he held her close; her head fit directly under his chin. Rose regretted that he broke away to swivel in tandem with the pulsating beat. His movements were graceful yet calculated, as he effortlessly pulled her to him and let her go. He held out his right hand, which she took as he dipped her to the right and to the left. Somewhere she sensed that a few other dancers gave them a bit more room. Rose was only focused on him and felt safe in his presence.
Lyon was different than anyone she’d ever known before—completely unpredictable. When he reached for her, she melted into his arms. Several songs passed by as they danced, their bodies just inches apart. Reluctantly, they separated when the DJ announced a short break. Feeling the sweat dripping down the back of her shirt, Rose said, “I think I need a cold drink.”
Lyon took her over to find Zoey, who was still chatting with Giovanni; he promised to get them some champagne. Dominique reappeared, still looking perfectly coiffed. She gave Rose’s sweaty form a once-over. “I should like to tell you that Lyon is extremely complex and you seem, well, rather out of your league.”
“Excuse me?” said Rose.
“Lyon is very worldly, so I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand his interest in you, which is purely professional.”
“What difference does it make to you?”
“We’ve been together for seven years, so I’d say I know him quite well. I wouldn’t want you to get any false ideas.”
“Really?” said Rose sarcastically.
“You Americans think you can do whatever you want. You’ll never belong here,” retorted Dominique as she glided away to whisper something in her brother’s ear.
Rose calmly returned her stare, refusing to be intimidated. Zoey came up and whispered, “That woman doesn’t like you. Makes me appreciate Southern hospitality.”
“Cheers to that!” Rose said. “I think I just met Lyon’s girlfriend.”
“She doesn’t have a chance against you, and besides, he’s barely talked to her. I thought he said they broke up?”
“I have no idea, but she’s clearly still into him.”
Rose wondered why Lyon had felt the need to bring her here to meet his current or former love interest. His situation was definitely complicated. “I can handle it. There’s nothing close to Doris on a rampage.”
“When are you going to tell her?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m enjoying my freedom.” She paused. “The hardest thing I’m going to do is say goodbye to you tomorrow. Thank you for everything, dear friend.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too.”
“I’m so
proud of you; I have no doubt that the next chapter is going to be filled with excitement.”
“I can’t wait for the adventure to begin!”
Zoey winked. “It already has.”
Chapter 6
ROSE AWOKE EARLY EACH morning anxious to escape her one-bedroom efficiency to explore Florence and use the time to draw and work on learning to converse in Italian. The days seemed to melt into one another as she immersed herself in Florence’s vibrant history.
In the fifteenth century, Lorenzo Medici was Michelangelo’s patron, and his influence could be recognized in places like the Pitti Palace, the palazzos and the art galleries. Rose walked everywhere, drinking in the culture and sketching.
Another week went by and then another; she still hadn’t told Doris that she had bought a place. It was ridiculous, but in her heart she didn’t want to be disappointed by her response, again. She took herself to the Uffizi often, spending hours studying the treasures inside. At night, she did her best to copy some of the pictures.
Being on her own, Rose discovered a sense of freedom for the first time ever. There was no structure. She wandered the streets of Florence, taking in the sights and sounds as if she were a college student again, discovering the beauty of a historical city and reveling in its many treasures.
This experience was empowering and liberating.
The text caught her by surprise:
Hi Rose: Great to see you a few weeks ago. I’m in Florence doing some research. Would love to take you to dinner on Saturday night and catch up. Would that work? Ben
Rose couldn’t believe her eyes. Ben Pierce was in Florence and had just asked her out! “Really,” she said aloud, as she read the note again. Her brother, Jack, must have given him her cell number. What is he doing in Florence? Her surprise and excitement were palpable. She had thought about him way too much over the years, and she was sure he had forgotten all about her. She told herself repeatedly that Ben had been her first love and was part of the tapestry of her life.
Her palms began to sweat as she recalled how devastated she felt when she had heard the news of his impending nuptials five years ago. It was splashed all over the society pages that this young, handsome entrepreneur was marrying some Victoria Secret model. The woman was stunning, and Rose felt woefully inadequate. She inadvertently glanced at her athletic thighs. With a groan, she willed herself not to feel anything. Telling herself to not overanalyze as usual, Rose pushed her fears aside and decided that they would have a great catch-up no matter what. Besides, a familiar face from home would be great right now.
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