The Sweet Life

by Sharon Struth

  “Sorry I’m late.” She grinned and hurried in behind the others.

  Once inside, he offered some suggestions on significant artwork in the building, all while anger boiled beneath his skin over Mamie’s relaxed attitude. “Enjoy your visit. In one hour, we’ll meet outside.”

  Everyone dispersed in different directions, but he stood in the back of the church watching them, too annoyed to enjoy it like he usually did. Who was he really mad at? Her or himself, for even bothering to care?

  Definitely himself. Over the past year, he’d been a model employee. This single mistake of letting Mamie on the bus stole the one thing he needed: control. When filming the show, he used to look forward to unpredictability. It always added a new element to the final product and played great to their audience. Now it was his Achilles’ heel.

  Julian left the quiet area and strolled the nave, glancing at the stunning wall paintings through a succession of black and white marble arches. Some visits, he’d walk close to them, study the intimate details of each scene with a close eye. This distance, though, gave the dramatic frescoes a different perspective. Yes, distance. Exactly what he needed with Mamie. Because the subtle pain often visible in her eyes revived his own.

  Julian passed a painting of Judgment Day. Judgment was a funny thing. Nobody he spoke to blamed Julian for the accident where Carlos had died. Looking closely at the painting, Julian studied the grim expressions of those making the descent into hell, their agony brought to life. Pain bombarded his chest, reminding him he could never forgive himself for not standing up to Gary when Carlos shared doubts about making the jump.

  Julian headed for the back of the church, wishing the heaviness weighing him down would disappear. As he approached the Chapel of Santa Fina, he spotted Mamie. She held a pamphlet, alternating between reading and examining the fresco inside the chapel.

  Awe filled her expression. He stayed behind a pillar, where he could watch her covertly.

  If he were to do his job, he might approach her and mention this spot was considered a jewel of Renaissance architecture, painting, and sculpture. How the people of San Gimignano dedicated this place to a young girl, Serafina. A child renowned for her piety who’d been orphaned at an early age, suffered a disease that rendered her an invalid, who then died at the age of fifteen.

  That’s what he should have done.

  Instead, he silently watched. The ache in his chest faded, until suddenly she frowned and sadness overshadowed the joy of a moment ago. Bowing her head, she let the pamphlet slip from her fingers and lifted her hands to cover her face. Her shoulders began to shake.

  Was she crying?

  A second later, she pulled a tissue from her purse, blew her nose, then took off down the aisle and exited the building.

  Julian’s feet moved on their own, following in her footsteps. When he reached the propped open exit door, he paused and watched her in the piazza.

  She pulled out a water bottle and took a long drink. Once finished, she just glanced around, no longer crying.

  Why had he followed? Plans to keep a distance from her fell apart before they got started. The painting of Santa Fina, who lay on her deathbed, must’ve caused her reaction. His conclusion she might be sick, the reason her uncle forfeited his ticket, now carried some merit. He stepped outside as a million questions formed on the tip of his tongue. As he skipped down the steps, fully prepared to ask them, a shout echoed in the square.

  “Signora Mamie!”

  Two young children approached her carrying a package. Julian recognized them as the kids who went down the restaurant alley. He froze at the bottom step, close enough to hear.

  “Hi, Emilia, Lanzo.” Mamie’s face brightened. “Oh! My bag.”

  “You left it at the restaurant,” said the young girl.

  “I was in such a rush to get back to the tour, I totally forgot about it.”

  “Uncle Paolo, he wanted to bring it tomorrow, but we told him we would find you.”

  “You’re so sweet.” Mamie smiled as the young child passed off the package. “Grazie.”

  “Prego. Ciao!” The two kids skipped off.

  Tomorrow? What was she doing tomorrow with Uncle Paolo?

  He almost went straight over to have a little talk about men in this country and safety on his tour, but her smile vanished and he stopped. As she watched the children leave, a deeply sad and tender expression filled her eyes. One he’d seen before.

  Mamie turned around and their gazes met. For several seconds, she stared at him before finally turning away and heading for the well centered in the small square.

  Curiosity snaked through him. What were her secrets? Her problems? And just what the hell did she plan on doing with a man named Paolo tomorrow?

  He must be crazy to even care about wanting to know more, but he did. In fact, the notion of helping her possessed him in the most unsettling way, for reasons he couldn’t understand.

  One thing held him back from questioning her, though. How the hell could he help her when he couldn’t even help himself?

  * * * *

  Lorenzo’s lanky frame wilted at the shoulders as he frowned and glanced around the table at Mamie, Bernie, and Sandra. “No more?” He pointed to the unopened bottle of wine that he held in his hand. “Are you certain? In Italy we say ‘Due dita di vino e una pedata al medico,’ meaning ‘a little wine kicks the doctor out the door.’”

  Mamie laughed. The owner of Osteria Antica della Luna had a great sense of humor. “In the U.S. we say an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

  “So apples, grapes.” He shrugged. “They are the same? No?” Before they answered, his dark eyebrows lifted. “Ah, I get you a little grappa instead. On the house.”

  He smiled and hurried off.

  “What’s grappa?” Mamie glanced to her dinner companions.

  “An after-dinner drink.” Bernie shrugged. “You can’t refuse a freebie, right?”

  Lorenzo returned and filled small glasses with the beverage as he told them how grappa came from remnants of wine-grape pressings.

  She sipped the strong drink and didn’t love it, but to please the host she finished what he’d poured. Twenty minutes later, they walked out the door while Lorenzo and his family shouted familial goodbyes.

  A surprising number of people filled Siena’s streets near the Campo. Strolling after dinner appeared to be a custom shared by both tourists and locals alike. Bernie snapped photos as dusk settled in, while Sandra and Mamie window-shopped. A gelato shop display case filled with colorful offerings got everyone’s attention.

  Minutes later, armed with multi-flavored gelato cups, they wandered into the busy main square. Packed cafes served patrons late suppers at outdoor seating while those seated ate, drank, and people-watched. Mamie breathed in every sight and sound. A city that had been a stranger only two days ago already felt like home.

  As they passed a shop, Sandra paused. “Oh, this place has exactly what I’ve been looking for.” Sandra peered into a window that seemed to have the same assortment of tourist gifts as all the others. “Let’s go in.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” said Mamie. “Finish my ice cream.”

  Sandra nodded and went inside, Bernie bringing up the rear in silent compliance. He seemed to do whatever Sandra wanted, her happiness becoming his. Mamie knew her father wouldn’t have enjoyed the shopping aspect of this trip and would’ve said so.

  Mamie strolled past a few stores, then stopped and leaned against a building’s brick wall, quietly observing the campo activity.

  A roar of laughter made her glance to a cafe not far away. Beneath an awning sat a group of ten or so, their conversation lively and spirited. They weren’t tourists. Maybe it was their simple attire or comfortable attitudes. Hard to say. As she watched them, she was surprised to spot Julian at the table.

  Observing him in
his more natural setting gave her a teeny thrill. Not as a tour guide who worried about following rules, but himself. Because she couldn’t quite figure him out.

  Compared to the others at his table, he quietly listened, only speaking occasionally and always an attentive listener to whoever talked. At times, though, his eyes drifted away from his friends and seriousness took over his expression.

  More laughter erupted from their table, but this time Julian didn’t laugh with his friends. Instead, he scowled at his phone, pushed a button, and then shoved the phone into his pants pocket. He stared out into the square, seemingly unaware of the laughter around him.

  She watched him, propelled mostly by curiosity. Seconds passed. His gaze unexpectedly drifted and their eyes locked. Tenseness on his face softened. The same interest that shadowed his expression when she’d caught him watching her take the package from Emilia now returned.

  A family walked in between them, breaking her trance and snapping her back to reality. When the space between them cleared, he still stared at her. The famous Siena Campo’s hypnotic buzz stirred around them, like magic dust cast by Roman gods. The grappa she’d had, after many glasses of wine, left her feeling lighthearted and bold. All activity around her dulled to a muted sound, drowned out by Julian’s intense eyes. Kind eyes. And those reddish-brown curls made her fingers itch with a need to touch them.

  Several people passed by, jarring her like a slap in the face. What was she doing? Reviewing Julian was her job. Anything between them could only create problems in her undercover mission to report on this outfit for her employer.

  She quickly went inside the store where she found Bernie and Sandra at the register paying.

  “What’d you get?” Mamie glanced over Sandra’s shoulder, still flustered.

  “Just some T-shirts, for us and our grandchildren.”

  “Good idea.” Mamie went to the shelf, looked them over, and decided to buy one, too.

  After paying, they stepped back outside. “How about we head back to the hotel this way?” She pointed in the opposite direction of where Julian sat.

  They walked the quieter side streets. Mamie hung a few steps behind her new friends. The brief interaction with Julian lingered inside of her, igniting womanly awareness. Desire. A man’s tender touch. All need for those vanished along with her husband. At this moment, though, she craved more. Mamie smiled to herself. A new item would be added to her bucket list...Enjoy a man.

  Twice today her womanly urges sprouted after a long hibernation. Paolo’s attention earlier gave her the same thrill. Back in the States, a guy like Paolo wouldn’t make her pause. Over-confident and way too handsome, he could charm the pants off a woman sworn to a chastity vow. But in this enchanted land, an encounter with Paolo carried the appeal of an untasted Chianti; you might not care about it at home, but you’d want to try it in Tuscany.

  Julian’s rugged yet boyish looks and more subtle way of dealing with women were more to her tastes, but Julian wasn’t on the table. Even if he sometimes threw her off kilter just by giving her a simple glance, he was the man whose tour she’d be reviewing. Period.

  Still, there were plenty of men in Italy who could help her fulfill this new item.

  Paolo’s attention at least proved the beaten woman starting this trip no longer existed. After tomorrow’s scooter outing with him, she might be able to cross one item off her list. And if it got casually romantic, then she could cross off two.

  Chapter 5

  Mamie approached the table where several of the Wanderers sat eating their breakfast. The small banquet room had thick navy carpeting and stiff white linens, and a row of windows letting in the bright morning sun.

  Maggie stopped at an empty spot next to Tina. “Can I join you?”

  “Please do.” Tina wore loose gauze pants, a bright orange shirt, and had tied her thin blond strands back with a silky scarf.

  Mamie’s denim shorts and polo shirt screamed “plain Jane,” but this type of outfit always suited her in-the-house wardrobe when home. Next to Tina, the attire felt drab and very old-Mamie. Perhaps new-Mamie needed to update her wardrobe.

  She lowered her plate filled with two different cheeses, a hard-boiled egg, and a thick hunk of Italian bread she planned to douse with Nutella. Breakfast at home consisted of an egg and fruit. If she kept up this eating pace, a gym membership when she returned home might be in order.

  Across the table Sandra used her spoon and plopped a dollop of the delicious hazelnut spread on a hunk of Italian bread. Bernie sat to her side. Both wore their new “I Love Siena” T-shirts.

  Sandra smiled. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “Best night’s sleep since I got here.”

  Tina reached for her coffee. “Me too. It always takes a few days for my body to adjust. We were just talking about yesterday’s trip to San Gimignano. What a lovely town.”

  Sandra moaned while biting into her bread.

  Bernie shook his head. “Why don’t you make sounds like that around me anymore?”

  Sandra swallowed as her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Bernie!” She gently swatted him on the arm. “I can’t help it if I love Nutella.”

  Joel sat on Tina’s other side, quietly reading a travel guide. He looked up. “It is tasty, but not healthy like people think.”

  Bernie speared a sausage. “Okay, Dr. Joel. You’ve retired from your practice. Let the rest of us enjoy our vacation food.”

  Joel put down his book and reached for his half-eaten cup of yogurt. “Everything in life is moderation and balance, my friend. But you’re right. Vacation is to be enjoyed.”

  Mamie took a piece of her cheese and bit into it just as Julian entered the dining room, pausing to talk to pretty waitress wearing a short dark skirt with an apron over it and plain white blouse. She’d been there each morning, keeping the buffet table in order. While she spoke, Julian listened quite intently. The way a woman liked to be listened to. She finished speaking and he smiled. As he responded, the charming smile seemed to captivate his audience of one.

  Mamie studied the width of his chest and shoulders, the wind-tousled look of his brownish-red hair. The brief, intimate moment between them last night had stayed with her for hours, an eye-locking that caused a flurry of heat inside her belly. His sudden interest in her had to be her imagination. Perhaps she was giving off a vibe, fueled by her waking from a deep sleep caused by her sadness.

  Julian hadn’t even wanted to let her join the tour.

  Mamie picked away at her food, onto better thoughts, like today’s date with Paolo. An outing she hoped would fulfill her quest for action on this trip. His tender goodbye kiss yesterday as he walked her to the door of his restaurant was unexpected. A soft brush of his lips on hers. Maybe kissing people was a casual Italian thing and she shouldn’t read into it. She couldn’t deny how it left her craving intimacy but scared as a virginal bride on her wedding night. Five years without a man. Way too long.

  His niece, Emilia, had been delightful during their lunch, but a haunting reminder of Zoe. The pretty young girl offered a living and breathing image of what Zoe might be like if she’d lived. A swift wave of pain pounced on her chest, but Mamie lifted her coffee and took a long, slow drink, letting the much-needed dose of caffeine dominate her thoughts.

  The sound of a utensil tapping on a glass rang throughout the room. Julian stood in the room’s center waiting for quiet. “Okay, Wanderers. I need your attention.”

  He sounded very official for a man wearing cargo pants and a slightly wrinkled Woodstock T-shirt that read “Three Days of Peace and Music.”

  When the group quieted, he cleared his throat. “Quick announcement. You guys have free time until three today. At three, our bus will leave for Chianti. We’ll be visiting an organic vineyard for a tour and tasting. Then we’ll have dinner at a place in town.”

  His intense green e
yes drifted to Mamie. She froze, some part of her brain telling her she really ought to turn away. Except she couldn’t.

  He finally looked back to the others, much to her relief. “This morning is a great time to see the sights in Siena. Visit the duomo, climb the tower, shop. You may notice setup going on for the Palio, a horse race, one of great honor to the people of Siena. Seventeen contrade—areas of the city—race each other twice a year. If you walk around town today, keep an eye open for unique emblems and flags to represent each neighborhood.”

  Mamie marveled at how easily Julian spouted off facts. History had never been her strong suit, but Ted had taught the subject at a local college.

  Julian glanced around. “Any questions?”

  Nobody had any so they returned to their breakfasts. Mamie ate and listened while the others talked. Every so often, she’d glance up at Julian while he got his food at the breakfast bar.

  “Want to join us around town, Mamie?” Bernie picked up his coffee. “We’re going to the Siena cathedral.”

  “Thanks for asking, but I have plans. I’m going on a scooter ride with someone I met yesterday. But I’ll be back for our trip into Chianti.”

  “A male or female friend?” Sandra raised her brows, her round face full of innuendo.

  “Male.” Mamie tried to sound casual, but she was excited to see Paolo again.

  “You didn’t tell me that at dinner last night.” Sandra frowned.

  Mamie almost felt bad she hadn’t been more open. “It’s with a man I met in a gift shop yesterday. Paolo. He’s a friendly guy. No doubt all the American women he meets fall for him. He’s very...” She paused. “...confident with strangers.”

  “A real charmer?” Sandra tipped her head and her silver chin-length hair tilted with it. “Like my Bernie?”

  Bernie grunted as he speared a piece of melon. “Nobody appreciates your sarcasm this early in the day, Sandy.”

  She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder and softened her voice. “Who’s being sarcastic?”