by Nina Singh
“Yes, I’m to meet my tour guide there. Though I have a few moments to spare.” She glanced at her sensible watch. She had a much more extravagant one at home, with a gold band and jewel-encrusted face. But she’d never wear that one again. It had been a birthday gift from Matt. She gave herself a mental kick. She refused to think about him today. Or for the remainder of this trip, for that matter.
“Excellent. That will give us some time to enjoy the square.”
A crowd was already gathered in the piazza when they reached St. Mark’s. The line outside the basilica snaked back and forth. Dozens of gondolas and various other watercrafts dotted the canal ways.
“This is the busiest I’ve seen it since I got here,” Maya commented.
“Pretty common for a Friday afternoon. Good thing you booked a tour,” Vito remarked. “It’s the only way to bypass the lines.”
“I have my grandmother to thank. This really was the ideal wedding gift.” Too bad the wedding in question would never happen.
“Your grandmother must think very highly of you.”
Maya couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips. “She says I’m her favorite. Though I’m not sure how true that is. I think she simply feels a particular kinship with me.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because we both lost so much when my parents passed. She lost a cherished son. My father. And I lost my entire family.”
“You’re an only child?”
She nodded. “Yes. Though I grew up with two cousins. They’re more like sisters, really. My aunt and uncle took me in after the accident. They raised me. I was fortunate that they stepped up.”
“But you never stopped missing your parents.”
A lump of sorrow lodged in her throat. She had to swallow past it before she could answer. “No. I think about them every day. And how much I miss them.”
Vito stopped walking as he turned to face her. “Grief is a rather unforgiving monster,” he replied. His voice had taken on a distant, pensive tone. His eyes darkened with emotion. And pain. Maya had no doubt he was speaking from firsthand experience.
She and Vito walked farther into the center of the square. A toddler squealed by them, laughing as he chased a pigeon then ran after another. His mother followed close behind with a genuine yet exasperated laugh of her own. The child nearly careened into a young, well-dressed couple sharing a chocolate gelato cone.
“You’ve lost someone, haven’t you, Vito?”
He seemed focused on a point off in the distance. “I hope you don’t mind my asking,” she added when he didn’t answer right away.
He gave a shake of his head before turning his gaze back to her. “No, it’s all right. I’m just not used to being asked about it. This is a rather small city. Everyone already knows the story. It doesn’t come up often.”
Maya got the distinct impression that was most likely because he clearly discouraged it. Vito didn’t seem like the type of man who took comfort from confiding in others. No, he appeared much too private for that. Too stoic. But something compelled her to press on. “Do you want to tell me?”
Pain and anguish were etched in his face.
“My wife. I lost my wife about three years ago.”
The words confirmed what she’d read online. He was a widower. Vito Rameri had lost the woman he loved. And, by the looks of him as he spoke, he still grieved for her deeply.
She should not have pursued the subject. A virtual curtain seemed to close behind his eyes. The warmth and camaraderie they’d shared on their walk over had suddenly dissipated. She wasn’t surprised when he quickly changed the subject as they approached the appropriate line for entry.
“Be sure to note the influences of other eras in the artwork,” he reminded her.
“I’ll try.”
He gave her a small bow when they came to a stop at the place she was to meet her guide. “Enjoy your tour, bella mia.”
With that, Vito turned and walked away. Without so much as a goodbye.
* * *
Vito didn’t know how long he stood there, watching her from a distance. He tried to tell himself he was simply being conscientious, making sure she was met by her tour guide. He couldn’t help noticing, however, that aside from an elderly man reading a newspaper and Vito himself, she was the only one in the entire square without a companion. And she looked nervous, shifting from one foot to the other. Despite her words at the studio earlier, Maya was clearly feeling awkward and out of place standing there alone.
But what business was it of his, really?
Vito told himself he should turn away, walk back to his studio and not give Maya Talbot another thought. The fact that he was even wavering over doing so was absolutely Leo’s fault. That meddlesome cousin of his was the only reason Vito was even entertaining the notion currently nagging at him.
Leo’s words echoed in his head. She’s only here in Venice for a few days. What would be the harm in accompanying her?
On the surface, it appeared such an innocuous question. Perhaps there was no need to dig too far into it. Maya didn’t know a soul in Venice. They’d met by accident and had gotten to know each other somewhat. Maybe they were even on their way to becoming friends. Truly, a genuine friend would try and help another out of an awkward and uncomfortable situation.
That’s all this was, he assured himself. He made his way back to where she stood before he could give it much more thought.
She jumped when he tapped her on the shoulder.
The smile that greeted him when she turned around nearly knocked him off his feet. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. “Vito? You’re back!”
He didn’t often lie, but it seemed to be the best course of action at the moment. For the sake of her pride. “Leo just called me from the studio. It appears I’ve had a sudden cancellation of a previously planned appointment,” he fibbed. “I find myself free for the afternoon.”
Her eyes grew wide with shock. And pleasure. “You do?”
He nodded. “Since I’m already here, I wonder if I may take advantage of your extra tour ticket. That is, if I won’t be intruding,” he added quickly.
The smile she gave him was as bright as a sunny Venetian morning. “Why let a perfectly good tour ticket go to waste?”
He offered her his elbow. “Why indeed?”
CHAPTER SIX
IT NEVER CEASED to amaze him, the sheer wonder and awe on the face of someone entering the Basilica San Marco for the first time. Maya was no exception. Her jaw had been agape since they’d stepped through the arched doors. Her reaction could best be described as that of a small child experiencing her first amusement park ride.
But it was his own reaction that came as a bit of a surprise. Vito felt pleasure warm through his chest at the sight of her as she took in the majestic beauty surrounding them.
He’d been right about the tour guide. A disheveled and distracted university architecture student, barely out of his teen years. He’d introduced himself as Angelo. Now, as they entered the ancient church, the glances the young man kept throwing in Vito’s direction were a clue that the student recognized who he was. Vito appeared to be making him nervous.
Vito wished for some type of miracle that might somehow have the whole cathedral cleared except for Maya and himself—including their distracted guide.
“It’s breathtaking,” Maya uttered, her voice barely above a whisper. But he managed to hear her. She was taking it all in with an appreciation so often lacking in foreign tourists. Not many of them appreciated the sheer genius of the artwork on the domed ceiling. The religious symbolism so craftily on display was lost on most.
Not on Maya. She could see clearly what a master work of art this whole building was. And she appreciated it.
Their tour guide was explaining the influence of Byzantine architecture on the cathedral and the
religious importance of the mosaics. He then launched into the history of the artwork and when it was completed, what previous works the art had been influenced by. Maya politely nodded at his words without tearing her eyes away from the walls and the dome overhead.
Angelo continued to dart glances his way as he spoke. Vito wanted to tell the young man to relax. No doubt he was wondering why Vito Rameri, of all people, would be participating in a guided tour of San Marco.
If he only knew.
Maya sighed. “The pictures I’ve seen in various books can’t compare to the reality of this place.”
“Pictures can’t do justice to a true masterpiece.”
“No. They can’t. I knew the mosaics were mostly done in gold but I couldn’t have imagined the sheer luminescence of the effect.”
Angelo interrupted them with a none-too-subtle clearing of his throat. “Should we continue on toward the apse?”
Vito motioned for him to lead the way and placed a hand on Maya’s elbow.
Despite his own prompt, Angelo didn’t move. He stood staring at the two of them, his gaze dropping to where Vito held Maya by the arm.
Great. Depending on who this young man’s mentoring professor was, this little outing might very well fuel a fresh new round of talk among Vito’s acquaintances. Vito wasn’t sure he could deal with a gossip storm again. The last one had nearly destroyed him. He let go of Maya and dropped his hand to his side, clenching it in anger and frustration.
Angelo blinked and lifted his chin, as if summoning the courage to speak. Vito could guess what was coming and sought in vain for a way to head him off at the pass.
This was the reason he preferred to stay home.
“Scusa, per favore,” Angelo began. “Are you not Signor Rameri?”
Vito merely nodded, hoping against all hope that the young man would just drop the matter once it was confirmed.
No such luck. Angelo thrust his hand in Vito’s direction and spoke in Italian. “It is an honor to meet you, sir.”
Vito had no choice but to shake the other man’s hand. “Thank you for your kindness,” he responded, reverting to English for Maya’s sake. This was her day, after all. He had no desire whatsoever to make any part of it be about him. Angelo would just have to understand that.
For her part, Maya was giving them both a curious look.
“Do you two know each other?” she asked.
Angelo chuckled nervously. “Anyone studying art in Italy, or most anywhere else in the world for that matter, knows of Signor Rameri.”
Maya turned to give him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Of course. How silly of me.”
“If we could continue,” Vito prompted.
“I would not have expected to be giving you a tour when I signed on for this job,” Angelo said, obviously taking the hint that speaking English was the polite thing to do.
“Life is full of surprises.” Some of those surprises were bigger than others, Vito thought. Some surprises came in the form of a vicious sucker punch and turned a once-content life full of purpose into a shattered mess.
“I knew I was right,” Angelo continued.
“Right about what?” Vito asked, despite the trepidation warning him to just ignore the statement.
“About all the incorrect rumors. I argued to everyone who would listen that you were not, in fact, retiring.”
Vito wanted to tell him it was none of his business. The only person his career concerned was Vito himself. Bad enough his cousin was a thorn in his side on the subject. Like he’d told Leo earlier, he would go back to work in the studio when he was good and ready.
“Retiring?” Maya asked.
“Why else would you be here if not for creative inspiration?” Angelo looked quite smug about his reasoning skills. He had no clue just how completely off his theory was.
“Rumors are the devil’s playthings,” Vito declared with a finality he hoped would compel everyone to just drop the topic.
But Angelo had still more to say. “No one can blame you for taking a sabbatical given everything that happened. I knew it was just a matter of time before you came back.”
Vito cursed under his breath. This was why he kept to himself, why he didn’t socialize or attend functions. His past always came up as a topic of conversation. One he had no interest in accommodating.
He should have known better.
* * *
Maya knew she wasn’t imagining the tension coursing through Vito as their tour guide went on and on in a flat monotone voice. The stiffness in Vito’s shoulders and neck was sure to cause one monster of a headache if he didn’t let it loose fairly soon. She also hadn’t missed the way he’d tried in vain to shut down Angelo’s reference to his work or supposed retirement.
Whatever the exact story was, between her internet search the other night and all of Angelo’s ramblings, she’d been able to surmise that Vito hadn’t produced anything in a considerable length of time.
It had to have something to do with his wife.
To top it off, their tour guide hadn’t been the only one to recognize Vito as they’d toured the basilica. Maya had caught more than one person doing a double take as they walked by. One young woman who’d been sketching in the apse looked on the verge of approaching him. Vito must have noticed her intent, as well, for he quickly walked in the other direction even as Angelo was still in the middle of a comment about a particular mosaic right above where they stood.
Now that the cathedral part of the tour was over, Vito seemed anxious to be out of there. She was feeling a bit claustrophobic herself. The crowds had multiplied since they’d arrived. At one point she’d found herself jostled badly enough that Vito had to reach over and steady her. She decided to ignore the little flip her stomach did as he placed his hands around her waist to keep her from careening into another church visitor.
“Shall we make our way over to the Doge’s Palace, then?” Angelo asked once they’d stepped outside to stand by the lion statue. “Follow me.”
He made a move in that direction but Vito held a hand up to stop him. “That won’t be necessary.”
Angelo blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Maya’s heart fell. Vito was cutting the tour short. He’d had enough. Though she shouldn’t be surprised. He had definitely not enjoyed the tour. She’d have had to be oblivious and blind to not notice his discomfort.
“You won’t need to accompany us,” Vito added.
Wait a minute. It was one thing to be done with touring with her but it was something else entirely to send her guide away. This was part of her package trip. She began to protest but Vito interrupted her. “I can take it from here. We appreciate your time.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet.
The young man seemed taken aback but recovered quickly once he saw the wad of bills he was being offered. Maya waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Vito.
“May I ask why you just did that?”
He bowed his head slightly. “I apologize. I should have asked you first.”
“But you didn’t.” She wasn’t exactly miffed about that fact, but she would have appreciated being consulted on the decision.
“I can catch up to him and bring him back, if you’d like.” Even as he made the offer, Vito’s expression made it clear how distasteful he found that prospect.
“I’d just like to know why.”
“A structured tour is so flat, so boring. You have access to the internet at home back in Boston, do you not?”
“Of course.”
“And you are able to read books on history or art?”
She began to see his point. “Angelo wasn’t telling us anything that can’t readily be found in an art history textbook.”
“Precisely.”
“And I suppose you can make the rest of the tour more st
imulating?”
He clapped a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. I think I can manage a bit better than a distracted, uninterested graduate student.”
Did that mean that he was interested? In showing her around? In spending more time with her? Was there even the slightest chance that he’d sent Angelo away because he wanted to be alone with her?
She shook off the fanciful thoughts. Of course not; she was just foolishly searching for ways to mend her shattered pride after being duped by her fiancé.
Speaking of which, it came as a bit of a revelation that she hadn’t thought of Matt in all this time. She should probably be missing him more, wishing that he was here with her. But he hadn’t so much as crossed her mind.
That fact spoke volumes about her choice of a potential life partner. Then again, maybe it had more to do with the man smiling at her right now outside the cathedral.
Vito Rameri was definitely the sort to help a girl forget about other men.
“Well, let’s go see if you can put your money where your mouth is, Signor Rameri.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Another American idiom.”
Maya just laughed in response.
Moments later, they entered the historic museum that was once the residence of the Doge di Venezia. The artwork was no less breathtaking here than what she’d seen at the basilica. The entire palace was one monumental masterpiece with elaborate paintings on the ceilings and walls. Her senses were in overdrive; she couldn’t decide where to look first. It was as if history had actually come to life around her.
She could sense Vito staring her way. How lucky was she to be able to visit these places with him by her side? A true native son who knew exactly how to appreciate the beauty and history that surrounded them.
Right. As if that was the only reason she was so thrilled that he was here with her.
“Well, what can you tell me about these paintings?” she asked him.
“Ah, cara. Don’t you get it? It’s about what you can tell me about them.”