by Julia Anders
Choking down one roll, which she could hardly swallow, and gulping the coffee, she escaped to her room to stand and stare bleakly out the window. Her packing had been finished long since.
The impersonal mechanics of checking out and getting the luggage arranged in the boot were welcome distractions. With his customary efficiency, Jason had checked with the concierge on the proper route out of the city to get on the autostrada. "So let's hope there's no more driving around in circles the way we did when we came into town," he said.
She took the map out and pretended to study it.
The countryside from the autostrada was not very interesting, and a permanent haze dulled the sky from the smoke of the northern Italian industrial works.
Jason drove in the fast lane most of the time and the miles slipped away quickly. When they saw the signs for Parma, he said, "I thought we might have lunch here, but it seems too early. Would you just as soon continue?"
"Yes, I'm not hungry."
It was afternoon when they reached the exits to Bologna. "I think we'll stop here." This time he had no trouble finding the center of town. Though the sun did not seem very bright through the hazy overcast, the day was unseasonably warm and they ate at a terrazzo on a picturesque street.
"How soon do you think we'll be able to see Tonio?" she asked.
"That depends on the D'Allasios. I'll call them as soon as we get settled in. Darren thinks it best if we don't make any legal moves immediately. He's hoping it won't be necessary. I'm not as sanguine about it as he is, but he thinks there's a possibility that actually having a five year old in their care these past few weeks may have changed his grandparents' minds about keeping him permanently. After all, it's been years since they had a child in the household full time. He thinks they may realize that their life-style would undergo a drastic change if they plan to raise him."
"Perhaps," Lynne said hopefully.
"I don't think that will happen, but then, too, he thinks if we can establish a good rapport with Tonio, as a couple and as prospective guardians, it will help. So we'll just play it by ear for a while."
After lunch he said, "Do you mind if we take a stroll? I'd like to stretch my legs before we get back in the car."
"Of course I don't mind. Would you like me to drive the rest of the way?"
"No, I'm not tired and it's only a short way farther."
It was not surprising he didn't take her up on her offer, Lynne thought. Jason liked to be in control at all times.
They admired the front of the basilica and Neptune's Fountain and then walked down to the Piazza di Parta Ravegnana and looked at the two strange tilted towers. "I don't suppose you'd care to climb up for the view?" Jason asked.
Lynne stared upward. "It's too soon after lunch for me, but if you'd like to, I'll be happy to wait."
"Well, I've always wanted to climb a leaning tower, but I guess I'll save myself in case I ever get to Pisa."
Lynne forced a small smile. It was the closest either of them had come to attempting a casual joke all day. Getting back on the old footing wouldn't be easy, but she would put her best effort into it. She had to. She wondered if he had been relieved that she hadn't made any uncomfortable scene that morning.
The scenery was more attractive now, hillier, with an occasional crumbling red brick palazzo perched high on a shelf of rock above the road.
Even encased in her cocoon of dull misery, Lynne couldn't help feeling a stirring of interest as they drove toward the center of Florence. The city had its share of one-way streets, but this time Jason seemed to know what he was doing, fortified no doubt by more directions from the concierge at the hotel in Milan.
"Now we have to turn back along the Arno and we should be getting to the hotel at any minute."
The Arno! What historic associations this river brought to mind. Then Lynne caught her breath. "There's the Ponte Vecchio! Why, it looks just the way it does in pictures."
"And here's our hotel."
"Jason, you mean we're staying practically right on top of the Ponte Vecchio?"
Their suite turned out to be three rooms on the front facing the river with a superb view of the bridge. Jason had probably requested it that way. Leave it to him to think of everything. Nearly everything. The one thing he hadn't counted on was something he couldn't have been expected to foresee. Lynne resolutely pushed that thought away. From now on she would concentrate very hard on absorbing the sights of Florence—and on Tonio.
By the time she had unpacked, Jason knocked on her bedroom door. "I just talked with Isabella, Signora D'Allasio that is, and she grudgingly invited us to come to see Tonio about five thirty this afternoon. They have a villa between here and Fiesole, so we should allow plenty of time to find it. Will that rush you too much?"
"No, I can change in five minutes."
"They didn't invite us to stay for dinner, so I suppose we must assume we aren't exactly welcome guests," he said wryly.
"I take it that Signora D'Allasio does speak English then."
"Yes, she and Matteo both do, but I don't think they're as fluent as you are in Italian." He frowned. "I wish there were some way we could keep them from knowing that you are so fluent, but with Tonio around that won't be possible."
She was puzzled. "Why don't you want them to know?"
"I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I have that it would be an ace in the hole if they didn't know. People often speak more openly to each other if they think they can't be understood. It might help give us a clue as to their attitude."
"Well, I suppose I could speak only very simple Italian to Tonio when they are around, and in English to them, if you think it would be of any help."
He looked gloomy. "It probably won't work. Knowing you speak any of the language at all will doubtless put them on their guard."
It was a beautiful drive to the D'Allasios' villa, but if Lynne hadn't been so concerned about the first meeting with Tonio's grandparents, she would have enjoyed it more.
The villa was charming, set into a terraced hillside.
It looked old but not all of the same period, as if various owners had added a room or a wing to suit their individual whims.
A neatly uniformed maid showed them in. As they waited, Lynne said in a low tone, "I have butterflies in my stomach. That's absurd, isn't it?"
She had a dreadful feeling that Isabella D'Allasio was going to be some sort of oracle who would take one look at her and know her for the fraud she was.
When her hostess entered the room, Lynne felt stunned surprise. This was hardly the sad-faced, elderly grandmotherly type she had pictured. The woman in front of her was extremely slender, not quite as tall as Lynne, but with a commanding presence. She was dressed all in black, but in a sleekly modish style. She looked to be in her mid-forties. Her carefully made-up face was cool, reserved, giving no hint of what was going on inside her head.
"Signora, it was good of you to let us come." Jason took her hand and, without actually bowing over it, managed to make it a deferential gesture. "I would like to introduce my wife, Lynne."
Lynne could feel the intensity of the older woman's scrutiny as the dark, secretive eyes burned into her.
"Come and sit down. My husband will join us presently. Ah, here he is now."
Matteo D'Allasio was as different as his wife from what Lynne had conjured up in her imagination. He was tall and heavily built, but with an athletic grace; the gray in his carefully cut hair did not age him, but rather added a special touch of elegance.
Drinks and small biscuits were passed and Signora D'Allasio said, "I am sorry not to entertain you in a more festive manner, but, as you see, we are in mourning."
"Oh, of course," Lynne murmured. "I am so very sorry. It was a great tragedy."
"Your husband's loss, too, was an unhappy one," Matteo said. "How fortunate that your wedding tour included Firenze."
"The marriage was rather sudden, I believe." Isabella's tone made the words sound almost insolent.
/> "Not at all," Jason said smoothly. "It was postponed because of my brother's death, and because of that it was a very quiet ceremony."
"You did not mention it in Madrid," Isabella persisted.
"It hardly seemed the time for such an announcement," he said stiffly.
"Did Tonio know we were coming? May we see him soon?" Lynne asked.
Isabella tugged a bell rope and, when the maid appeared, she sent her to bring Tonio.
He arrived with laggard footsteps, but after coming a little way into the room, he caught sight of Lynne. He stopped dead still, his face suddenly transformed with a flush of joy, and hurled himself pell mell into her waiting arms. He buried his face against her and then she was on her knees beside him.
"I missed you so," she said softly in Italian.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"Didn't they tell you your Uncle Jason and I were coming?"
"They only said my Uncle Jason was bringing his new wife. I was afraid it was the lady from the circus."
Lynne gasped.
"What's this?" Matteo demanded. He looked accusingly at Jason. "My grandson says he thought you were married to someone from a circus. What does the boy mean?"
Jason looked completely baffled.
"It was just a misunderstanding on Tonio's part," Lynne put in hastily. "You know how small children can get an idea into their heads."
"But what on earth would lead him to believe his uncle had married a circus performer?"
Lynne hesitated but all three adults were staring at her. "It's really just nonsense. A woman who was a visitor of—at Longridge wore rather a lot of eye makeup, green eyeliner and shadow. Tonio said he had seen a clown with the same kind of eyes and got it into his head that the lady was a circus performer, too. I told you—it was nothing."
She stole a glance at Jason. He seemed to be struggling between annoyance and laughter.
Very softly to Tonio she said, "Zio Jason would like a hug from you."
Tonio untwined his arms from Lynne's neck and obediently climbed onto Jason's lap. "Are you and Lynne going to stay with us? Please, Zio Jason?"
As Jason, of course, could not understand the child's Italian words and the D'Allasios were apparently not going to translate his invitation, Lynne said, "Oh, how sweet, Jason. Tonio wants us to stay here and visit. That was what he said, wasn't it?" she appealed innocently to his grandparents. She was being careful that when she spoke Italian it was slowly and in simple words. Then to Tonio, she said, "I'm afraid not, carissimo, but we are going to stay on in Firenze and see the beautiful sights. We hope your grandparents will let you have dinner with us tomorrow. Would you like that, Tonio?"
"Oh, yes. Please may I, Nonna?" he cried eagerly.
"We will see," his grandmother said. "Now run along and have your supper."
He kissed them both good-bye. "I'm glad you're my aunt now," he told Lynne.
At a signal from Jason, Lynne rose. "We must be going, too. Thank you so much for letting us come."
"What time may we pick Tonio up tomorrow?" Jason asked. "We can give him an early meal so he will get to bed on time."
The two D'Allasios exchanged glances and then agreed on a time. "We wouldn't hear of your bringing him all the way back out to the villa. We'll send someone for him."
Just as they reached the door, a broad-shouldered, squat little man entered.
"Signor and Signora Corey, this is my cousin, Vincente Guardino."
He turned baleful eyes upon them and muttered an Italian greeting.
"Thank you again," Lynne said to Isabella. "And don't worry. We'll take very good care of Tonio."
In the car she turned to Jason. "Well, did you think it was a successful beginning?"
"With Tonio, yes. It couldn't have been more so."
"But not with his grandparents?"
He was silent for a minute. Then he said, "Did you notice the way their faces show no expression?"
She shivered a little. "As if they were carved from ice."
"There was one moment they did show something. When Tonio came in and threw himself into your arms. They looked murderous."
Murderous—they looked murderous. It was only an expression, but it made her feel colder than ever. "I didn't like the looks of that Cousin Vincente much, did you?"
"In every country there are some people who look on all foreigners with distrust. Maybe that's what was wrong with Vincente. On the other hand, maybe it was personal."
Somehow, though she told herself it was all foolishness, Lynne felt afraid. There was something about the D'Allasios that disturbed her, besides the chilliness of their manner. They were so different from what she had expected, so much younger and more stylish. She had pictured them as an elderly, doddering couple who would have difficulty keeping up with a lively grandson. Where had she gotten that idea? Had Madelaine planted it in her mind?
The concierge had mentioned that they could have breakfast in their rooms or, if it was a fine day, on the roof terrace.
Jason had turned to Lynne and she said, "Oh, on the roof, please."
Now they were sitting in the tiny roof garden, consuming rolls and jam and coffee and looking out at the superb view of Florence.
"I didn't realize how close the hotel is to the duomo," Lynne said. "I think I'll visit it this morning, if you don't mind. Perhaps you have business calls to make to London."
"Yes, I should talk to the office today."
The roof garden was enclosed on two sides by walls which probably formed a useful windbreak. The tables and chairs were wrought-iron painted white, and there were gay window boxes of flowers beside the railing.
"They serve drinks up here in the late afternoon. Do you think Tonio would enjoy coming up for a lemonade while we have an aperitif before we go to the restaurant?" Jason asked.
"That's a good idea. It's not easy for a child that age to sit in one place for too long. Coming here first will break up the evening for him."
After they finished breakfast, Lynne got out the guide book and set off for the Piazza del Duomo. The cathedral with its campanile and baptistry had a strange appeal for her. They were not as magnificent, perhaps, as others she had seen, but the strong design of dark green and white marble gave them a fresh, clean look which she liked. The great domed ediface was so different from the ornately carved Gothic cathedral at Milan. She had never seen dark green marble used with white in quite this way.
She spent a long time rapt with admiration, studying the world renowned door panels of Ghiberti's; they were truly masterpieces.
She was so immersed in the visual sensations she was experiencing that she felt particularly vulnerable and, as lunchtime approached, she thought she could not bear to sit making polite, meaningless conversation with Jason. To be with him and not share openly all she was feeling and thinking would be a refined torture when she was so moved by the ancient beauty of her surroundings, and yet she dared not be totally open with him for fear some of her feelings for him would spill over. She decided to take the cowardly way out and phoned the hotel to leave a message for him that she was going to visit the Uffizi Gallery and would return in midafternoon.
The Botticellis, Ghirlandaios, and Da Vincis were good therapy and, by the time she returned to the hotel, she felt transported beyond her own private troubles.
She changed into the rust wool suit and knocked on Jason's door to tell him she was ready to leave for the villa to pick up Tonio.
"Did you enjoy your sightseeing?" he inquired in a tight voice.
"Very much. I could stay in Florence for a year, I think."
Yesterday on the drive to the D'Allasio villa she had been too nervous to enjoy the scenery to the full. Today, already drunk with beauty, she was totally receptive to her surroundings.
"Whenever I think of Florence," she said, musingly, as they drove, "I'll see in my mind the cypresses like black candle flames, reaching toward heaven."
The evening with Tonio was enchanti
ng. He was delighted with the roof garden, as she had known he would be, and Jason had chosen a restaurant with tables outdoors overhanging the Arno.
At that early hour there were hardly any other patrons in the restaurant and the waiter made a big fuss over Tonio, pretending to mistake him for the head of the family and consulting him about whether each dish was just right.
It was a merry evening and toward the end Lynne said, "You should begin to learn English, Tonio, so you can talk with Zio Jason."
Tonio clapped his hands. "Oh, I'd like that. Let's begin now!"
"Well, the way we say prego is 'please' and grazie is 'thank you.' Those are always good to begin with."
On the way back to the hotel she pointed to various things they passed and gave him the English word.
When they were almost there Jason said, "Tell Tonio we'll see him tomorrow. I tried to arrange dinner with his grandparents, but they said they don't go out in the evening since Francesca died; however, with some urging they agreed to come to a luncheon party."
She translated for Tonio the part about having lunch together and he said, "Lynne, what is the English for bene?"
"It's 'good'," she said.
He turned to Jason with a bright smile and said in careful English, "Good. Thank you, Uncle Jason."
Lynne laughed and hugged him. She wished he could be with them all the time. Everything was so much more natural and easy between her and Jason with Tonio around. She could busy herself with the boy and forget the ache in her heart.
CHAPTER NINE
The luncheon party lacked the spontaneous gaiety of the evening before. Again wearing unrelieved black, Isabella D'Allasio was as unbending as before. Matteo was no more forthcoming than she. Lynne wondered if it were hostility to herself and Jason that caused their glacial attitudes. If they were no warmer with Tonio, the poor child must be having a sad and lonely time.
Though she was glad that Tonio was part of the party, she felt constrained not to chatter fluently with him in Italian as she usually did, since Jason didn't want the D'Allasios to realize the extent of her competence in the language. So in that area, too, the party lacked sparkle.