by J. M. Stengl
“I’m so glad they got to fly today,” I said.
“They will always remember this day.” Giano smiled up at me. If a statue can have a heart, his was in his eyes. Uh oh. Maybe this was a mistake. I hadn’t intended to lead him on. It shouldn’t be possible to lead on a marble statue, after all.
“What happened to the girl you were dancing with earlier?” I asked as we passed between buffet tables and crossed the lawn.
“The nymph ran off with a satyr. They can see each other from their plinths and have longed to meet for the past century.”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Well, because she dropped you for him.”
“I don’t mind. I never saw her before today.” He almost sounded amused.
Taking my hand, he led me onto the dance floor amid the statues. I towered over every other dancer. The top of Giano’s head barely reached my shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind the height disparity at all. As the band began to play, a singer crooned the words, all about remembering a kiss of long ago. Each of the statues danced in its own style, yet they never collided or interfered with each other. How did statues know how to dance? But why ask? None of this made any sense. Giano steered me capably around the floor. To him, I must feel light as a feather. The thought made me smile, and he smiled back.
If he were human, I realized, he would be incredibly handsome. So handsome that his lack of height would bother few women. That smile of his was a killer!
When the song ended, Giano led me off the floor but didn’t release my hand. “Lady Gillian, through centuries to come, until weather or war reduces my form to dust, I shall treasure the memory of the day the most beautiful woman I have ever seen danced with me as if I were human. You have melted my heart of stone. I now know what it means to love.”
I had no idea what to say, but he didn’t seem to expect an answer. We stood on the veranda, hand in hand, watching as the sun dropped quickly toward the horizon, sending gold and orange streaks across the sky. The flying horse wheeled and landed safely at the far end of the terrace, then rolled to its side on the lawn, resting its legs and wings after using them for the first and last time. The stone lions, as alike as twins, prowled onto the veranda and flopped down in the middle of the dance floor. A few statues protested, but then shrugged and continued dancing around them.
Giano said, “Thank you for today, Lady Gillian.”
I shook my head. “Thank Lady Beneventi, not me. You statues all came to life by her wish.”
His cool marble fingers gently squeezed mine. “In truth, it was the fairy’s doing,” he said. “I trust you will continue to visit me in the garden. I will ever be longing to hear your voice.” He was neither sad nor pleading, but my heart suddenly hurt.
“I will come often and listen for your pipe.”
“I shall always be playing for you, Lady Gillian,” he said just as the sun touched the sea on the horizon. The statues around us vanished, and the tables, the servers, the party decorations. The music lingered a moment after the musicians disappeared, and still Giano smiled, holding my hand and my gaze. At last, he too vanished, leaving only the scarf on the ground. And all the damage that had been done was reversed.
Servants poured onto the lawn from all directions, everyone scooping up former articles of clothing and talking about their adventures of the day. I stood alone, feeling lost.
Lady Beneventi sat upright in her lounge chair. “That was the most fun I’ve had in years! A truly lovely party. Thank you all for attending and making it a great success. Gillian!” She waved me over, grabbed hold of my hand, and gave me the most genuine smile I’d ever seen on her face. “You made Giano happy.” Wiggling my hand, she nodded. “So very tragic and romantic! You may have the evening free. Maria will accompany me upstairs.”
After Maria helped her into the wheelchair and pushed her inside, the servants exchanged glances and laughed. “It was kind of fun, now that it’s over,” said the youngest Ganza brother.
“Gillian is going to miss her marble admirer,” the handsome brother teased me. “She’ll be haunting whatever garden he stands in.”
“A nymph this tall asked if I would marry her,” one of the vineyard workers stated, holding one hand at waist height. “Imagine that!”
The workers were still comparing stories as they drifted toward the house or the vineyards, wherever they belonged.
Someone touched my shoulder from behind. “Are you all right?
I spun to face Manny, and his hand fell away. “I think so. That was . . . the strangest day!”
He nodded. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Yes.”
We descended the stairs from the terrace and walked along garden paths in the fading twilight. Every time I saw a statue, I half expected it to jump down from its plinth to greet us.
Manny strolled along with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched. “So, what was with you and that statue?”
I felt my face grow hot, which was irritating. “Which statue?”
“Don’t even try the innocent game. I saw you dance with him. I saw him hold your hand until sunset.”
I paused. “Giano is very sweet.”
“It was the one you talk to and pose with. I might have known.” He gave a little huff of laughter. “The girl who can break even a heart of stone.”
I protested. “He said I melted his heart of stone, which is a very different thing. And until today I had no idea he even could fall in love with me.”
After muttering something I didn’t catch, Manny commented with a sarcastic edge, “I imagine you’ll be more careful in the future.”
I placed my hand over my heart to pledge: “I’ll never flirt with a statue again.”
His tight lips curled in a reluctant smile.
“Where have you been this past month?” I tried to sound casual, but it came out more like an accusation.
“Working other jobs.” He sounded almost relieved to have a new subject for discussion. “Things are well in hand here until indoor renovations begin. Specialists will come by in a few weeks to help us form a plan for updating plumbing and wiring without destroying important historical aspects of the place.”
“So you will be around more often?”
He turned toward the still-glowing horizon. “Not this coming month. I have significantly more work this season than anticipated.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? You don’t sound entirely pleased about it,” I observed.
He shrugged. “It’s a good thing, but I need to adjust my plans and expectations.” He turned to me, catching my gaze as we walked. “Gillian, from what I saw, you handled every emergency today like a pro.”
My heart skipped a beat. Praise, from Manny? The world must be ending! “I had no idea what to do most of the time,” I said with a shrug.
His warm chuckle raised my spirits. “A large part of leadership is keeping your head and presenting possible solutions during a crisis. No one expected you to fix everything; they needed someone to tell them what to do next. You gave orders, they obeyed, and it all worked out rather well.”
“Nobody has ever looked to me as a leader before. I’ve always been a follower,” I admitted. “But today there was no one to follow. Lady Beneventi just sat back and watched.”
“You stepped up and took charge. All those people will remember that today you were noble not only in name but also in actions.”
Something in his tone annoyed me. “So, until today they all found me lacking?”
He started walking faster, visibly agitated. “Today you acted on behalf of other people. You didn’t think only of yourself.”
My mouth dropped open. “Are you calling me self-absorbed?”
“Gillian, I just said you didn’t think only of yourself.”
This conversation was going downhill fast. “You said I didn’t ‘today.’ Which implies that I usually do.” My stomach burned, and it felt
an awful lot like the pain of being called out on a real fault. “Look, I don’t need you to point out my flaws right now. My life seriously stinks. My friends never write, the guy I care for pays me no attention at all, and I spend my days catering to an old lady who jumps on every opportunity to tell me how worthless I am. You’re the natural leader here, and we both know it. I panicked and texted you almost as soon as Lady Beneventi made her wish.”
He was silent for several paces, but then he turned his gaze upon me. “I’m glad you texted me today, and I dropped everything to come. But if I hadn’t been available, you would have handled the situation on your own. My role was supplemental.” If only the light hadn’t faded so quickly, I might have been able to read his expression. He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t quite believe he meant it.
He continued, “Now I ask you to seriously consider my earlier advice and reach out to your coworkers.”
“I promise to think about it,” I conceded. “When will you be back?”
“Most likely not for several weeks. But don’t hesitate to text again if you need to.”
A short time later, I watched through the front window as he drove away. One day, one crazy day, and my tranquility and resolve were shattered to bits.
And I couldn’t say a word about the day’s adventures on my social pages. Nobody in my social crowd would ever believe that I’d received a declaration of love from a six-hundred-year-old Vetrician masterpiece anyway.
“Hoo, it’s not supposed to be this cold,” I grumbled without losing a step. The garden paths were wet with rain but no ice, so I had snatched at this opportunity to run early in the morning.
I’d been awake anyway. Lady Beneventi had a restless night and insisted on having me, not Maria, read aloud to help her get back to sleep. Which made no sense, since her argument against Maria was that she read in a monotone. Wouldn’t that be more conducive to sleep than an animated voice?
Not that my reading had been particularly animated at four a.m.
Weeks had passed since the garden party, and the rich colors of autumn were more muted. It was always spooky to run at dawn or dusk; spookier than ever now that I knew the statues really watched me. Sometimes I nodded or waved like a crazy person at faces I recognized from the party. I still took Lady Beneventi for garden walks when weather permitted, and she always wanted to sit with Giano and chatter happily at him.
You know you’ve got issues when sitting beside an old sculpture is socially awkward.
As must be obvious from my ramblings above, nothing was happening on the Fidelio front. He was so busy that he neglected his Internet friends. I knew what he was doing only when other people posted photos with him in them.
“People” mostly being Raquel. My former BFF.
Beh.
What did I do when I wasn’t running or sneaking shy smiles at a hunk made of marble? You guessed it: I was bored out of my skull. Introspection has never been my thing, and I couldn’t seem to avoid it. I needed people and action!
Lady Beneventi made a few wishes, but nothing interesting. Arturo popped up at least once a week, which gave me some time to myself. But too much time to myself was worse than dragging one cranky old woman around to her geriatric parties. I would choose line-dancing with octogenarians any day over drumming my fingers on a windowsill and missing—
I missed having someone around to argue with. Conflict is stimulating to the mind.
Not that Lady Beneventi was mellowing. Listening to her bash her friends while we drove home from a social event made my stomach burn. She didn’t care about people, manipulated them for her own purposes, but then worried what they thought of her. What a mess!
One thing I knew for sure: I never wanted to be like Lady Catriona Beneventi.
I ended my morning run, allowing plenty of time for a shower . . . no, bath before breakfast. Lady Beneventi slept late anyway and woke in a very bad mood. I could hear her cussing out Maria as soon as I entered the suite with Bacio.
As luck would have it, Saturday was Maria’s day off, so immediately after dressing the mistress for the day, she left to visit her sister in a nearby village. I don’t imagine she gave the villa any lingering backward glances.
Lady Beneventi ate her breakfast without comment, then sat brooding over her coffee. Something was eating at her, I could see, but I knew better than to ask. I hoped she might wish for Arturo; he could usually improve her moods.
But then the youngest housemaid entered to clean out the fireplace, toting her tools and a bucket. Lady Beneventi took one look at her, set down her cup, and snapped, “You’re still around? I told my son to have you dismissed. Useless, half-witted girl.”
The young maid flinched.
“My lady,” I said in my best cheery voice, “if you’re finished with your coffee, why don’t we head outside for a walk? The rain has cleared, and it’s a beautiful sunny morning.”
“Oh yes, it is,” the maid responded, her face brightening. “Very beautiful.”
Lady Beneventi pushed her chair away from the table, her gaze skewering the girl. “You just want me out of here so you can get away with shoddy work. I’ll not have it, you slovenly creature. I know your ways.”
The maid’s face turned crimson, and her shoulders hunched.
Rather than throw fat in the fire by defending the girl, I said, “I do think Bacio would enjoy a walk. He’s been restless all morning. And Giano undoubtedly misses you; it’s been nearly a week since we visited his garden.”
Those pale eyes turned on me, and the temperature dropped a few degrees further. “You, stay out of this. You may be my companion and think yourself fine even though your noble father disgraced himself, but you have no say over how I discipline the servants. Alessandra has annoyed me since her first day here, and her cleaning skills are deplorable.”
My own temper flared. “If you would let other people do their jobs and not criticize their every move, they might work better and faster.”
Lady Beneventi’s face turned crimson. “You, a shameless hussy masquerading as a lady, think yourself entitled to tell me how to treat my own servants? Get out of here, both of you, before I have you both fired! Oh, how I wish everyone would just leave me alone today!”
As soon as the wish left Lady Beneventi’s mouth, the maid and I rose, turned, and walked out of the suite with Bacio at our heels. As we approached the staircase I stopped short, and Alessandra bumped into me with a grunt. “Why did you stop?” she grumbled.
“Why did I walk out?” I asked.
“Because she wished we would leave her alone?” Alessandra snapped, but I heard the worry in her voice.
“She might wish that, but I can’t leave her alone. Watching over her is my job!” I turned around. Bacio ran ahead of me but stopped with a yelp partway down the hall. Learning from his mistake, I stretched out my hand and felt something like an invisible wall. I pushed at it. Then Alessandra tried. The suite was unattainable, and I had left my cell phone on a side table in Lady Beneventi’s sitting room. Even my own bedroom and bathroom were inaccessible.
“The intercom,” I said, then picked up Bacio and dashed downstairs with Alessandra at my heels. We were both breathless when we reached the kitchen and, almost in duet, asked Elena to call Lady Beneventi.
She laid down her egg separator and gave us a questioning look but walked over to press the intercom button in her office and ask Lady Beneventi if she was all right. We heard nothing but static. “That’s never happened before,” she said, frowning.
We told her in alternating bursts of interruption what had happened, and I ended with, “But can anyone else get into her room? She needs her meds before lunch.”
“Go get Valentina. She’s cleaning the veranda and sunroom today.”
“What should I do with Bacio?”
“Leave him here with me. I’ll get one of the boys to take him.”
Valentina couldn’t pass the barrier either. Neither could the Ganza brothers. I stood and called dow
n the hall, “Lady Beneventi, don’t forget to take your medications!” But I couldn’t be sure the barrier hadn’t blocked my voice.
We all rushed from here to there, trying to find a way to reach the lady of the manor, but all attempts failed. Luigi even scaled the side of the villa to her balcony, but the force field prevented him from touching the rail.
At lunchtime, Elena sent up a tray on the dumbwaiter. Lady Beneventi must have picked it up, but the note I had slipped onto the tray floated back down the chute and landed on the kitchen floor. Although the lady might have rejected it, I believed it hadn’t reached her.
The tray returned later, minus most of the food, which was an encouraging sign. Just as I worked up courage to ask Luca to text Manny about this misadventure, we heard the elevator door open and close, then the rumble of the cab’s descent. Soon we all had to leave the kitchen through the garden door, which was annoying.
My phone! I dashed around the house and through the side gate and rushed to the front door, which was unlocked, as usual. In the entry hall the elevator door stood open, but Lady Beneventi was nowhere in sight.
Cautiously I approached the grand staircase, then ran upstairs, along the hall, and into the suite to snatch up my phone. The sitting room was a mess, but I didn’t dare take time to clean up; Lady Beneventi could return at any moment, and I might be compelled to jump off the balcony or out a window if I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Halfway down the curving staircase, I paused, sat on the step beneath a suit of armor set in an alcove, and texted Manny: Lady Beneventi wished everyone would leave her alone all day. None of us can get even within speaking range of her.
I sent that much and started writing more, but my phone rang. At sight of his name, I answered quickly. “Manny?”