Sheepishly, he apologized, “I’m sorry. No more presumptions or assumptions, Sabrina, I promise. How about dinner instead---tomorrow night?”
She hesitated for a few beats as tomorrow was a Thursday and she wondered what the urgency was. Before she could answer, he added, “I would suggest Friday night, but I have an overnight shift at the firehouse.”
Appeased by this new information, Sabrina accepted graciously, but remained cautious. “Dinner tomorrow night would be very nice. Where would you like to meet, Giovanni?”
“Let’s meet at seven at the Florentine Bistro, just a few doors down from the coffeehouse. They have the best Italian food in Burlington. And by the way…call me Gio.”
*****
The following evening, Sabrina stood before the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her rich cabernet shade of lipstick. Her dark eyes were slightly smoky at the edges with strategic dabs of ebony shadow added for a dramatic effect. Wavy, cascading tresses were pulled simply but alluringly into a tortoiseshell clip, exposing her small ears and sterling silver earrings. The dress she wore was probably the most provocative one in her closet---a black knit wraparound with silver belt---and distractingly displayed smooth décolletage.
Stepping into black sling-back heels, Sabrina felt butterflies rustle in her stomach as the realization hit her: she was going on a date. With a total stranger. Consumed by her active career and the frequent travel it entailed, she had little time to socialize. The machinations of her life were clear cut and did not deviate for a soirée of pleasure.
But, tonight is going to be different, she told herself. This is an adventure with a handsome and compellingly enigmatic man. With a final self-perusal before the mirror, she reached for her clutch purse. Rolling her shoulders back and straightening her spine to an elegant posture, Sabrina glided downstairs and out the door to her new adventure.
*****
As Gio drove to the Florentine Bistro, truck’s engine rattling and sputtering, he tried to contain his rising excitement. Since their fateful meeting on the waterfront, all Gio could think of was Sabrina’s angelic face and self-assured, exquisitely feminine demeanor. This agitated Gio, as he was experienced with women and generally felt indifferent when going on dates. At most, he might feel a physical surge at where the night could lead, but this boyish, sweaty-palmed anxiety he felt was unprecedented. You’ve been without a woman too long, he thought to himself, winding the truck around the bend and parking on a side street.
He made long, eager strides towards the restaurant and walked directly over to the hostess as soon as he entered. “Good evening. I have a reservation for two under the name Salvatore.” Gio spoke cordially as the young, auburn-haired girl checked her reservation book.
“Yes, Mr. Salvatore. You’re the first in the party to arrive. If you’d like, you could have a seat at the bar until your guest arrives.”
Gio nodded his head and took a seat on a leather bar stool, facing towards the window so he could watch Sabrina when she arrived. Gio had waited a full ten minutes when he finally saw Sabrina saunter through the door. As she walked with a natural sway in her hips, Gio remembered when he first saw her leave the diner, how her catlike gait had completely been his undoing. Tonight, in her stunning black dress, she was a breathtaking sight, and Gio rose to greet her.
“Good evening, Sabrina.” Gio took her hand as she smiled charismatically at him.
“Good evening, Gio. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She said, aware that she was a few minutes late.
“You were worth the wait.” Gio said simply, as Sabrina allowed him to lead her towards a table for two lit by a single lavender candle. The table was situated in a secluded spot overlooking Lake Champlain, glinting in the starlight and moonglow. Gio thought how captivating Sabrina was by candlelight and how the dancing flame seemed to warm her pale skin. He hardly took notice as a waiter came over and handed them menus.
Shyly, Sabrina perused the menu as Gio followed suit, stealing glances at her while trying to concentrate on making a selection. The waiter soon returned, as Gio ordered a bottle of wine. Then, he nodded towards her to order before he did. After the waiter took their orders, Gio and Sabrina launched into conversation. Swallowing his nervousness and speechless attraction to her, Gio initiated the exchange. “You mentioned at the waterfront how you came to Burlington five years ago. How do you like living here?”
“I love living here. Vermont has so much nature. That’s probably my favorite thing about it. I’m a swimmer and I also enjoy tobogganing, although I must admit that the slopes intimidate me.” Sensing that she might be chattering too much, she turned the conversation to him. “What about you? What kinds of things do you enjoy?”
Gio spoke passionately about his favorite outdoor activities: skiing, camping and fishing. Sabrina listened with interest, and her artistic eye recognized an ideal photography subject in him. His handsome face was a study in male beauty, brooding, well-sculpted, and enlivened by the most captivating eyes she had ever seen. When Gio paused to taste the sparkling water, Sabrina probed, “Tell me about your work. What made you decide to become a fireman?”
The perplexing mask she had glimpsed at the waterfront once again dominated his face. Gio seemed to be fighting an internal battle about what to say, or not to say, next. Before he could formulate a response, the waiter served their wine, a bottle of Chianti Classico from the restaurant’s private cellar. The waiter cracked open the bottle with ease and poured a swish into Gio’s goblet. “Signor?” He prompted, waiting for Gio’s evaluation.
Gio inhaled the full-bodied aroma of the red wine, swirled it around in the glass, and took a lingering sip. “It’s very good. Grazie.” He smiled cordially and Sabrina noticed for the first time that he had dimples.
“Bene, signor.” The waiter proceeded to fill Gio’s goblet halfway and do the same with Sabrina’s.
“Your plates will arrive shortly.” The waiter announced before disappearing into the recesses of the dimly lit restaurant.
Gio raised his goblet and toasted, “To a wonderful evening.”
“To a wonderful evening.” Sabrina lifted her glass to his and put her lips to it, letting the wine flow in and savoring the luscious, fruity flavor. “Excellent choice of wine,” She complimented with a flirtatious smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” he answered, reaching for a wedge of herbed focaccia from the breadbasket.
“You were about to tell me what led you into your line of work.” She persisted.
“Well it certainly wasn’t the salary.” He continued to evade her question.
“Then what was it?” She asked plainly.
Gio exhaled shakily, almost resolutely, as he rejoined, “I may as well tell you. You should know that this is something I never discuss, so I’m going out on a limb here. The only person in my life who knows this story is my buddy Max. And I’ve known Max since ninth grade. He’s a private investigator with his own firm here in Burlington.” Sabrina listened in anticipation, wondering what he was about to share.
As if trying to rationalize his pending confession, Gio said, “If we continue to see each other, you’ll find this out anyway, so there’s no use hiding it.” Gio’s voice transformed into a complete monotone with emotionally vacant eyes to match. “My parents and brother were killed in a fire when I was eighteen. The fire destroyed our house completely.”
At his horrific admission, Sabrina gasped and put her hand to her heart, “My God. How awful…I mean it’s unimaginable. I am so sorry.” To Sabrina, her words seemed inadequate, but they were spoken in all sincerity and compassion.
Gio continued, determined to tell her the whole story and then proceed more pleasurably with the evening, especially to learn about her. “It was just three months before my high school graduation. Ironically, I had been planning to go to college to study architecture.” He sneered the last word and gritted his teeth. “I had wanted to build. Yeah, I wanted to design and build a house like the one
I grew up in until the night I came home to an empty plot of land…nothing but ashes. I realized in that moment that there is nothing permanent in this world. Why would I build houses when nature’s elements can so easily take them down? I told my girlfriend at the time, Madeline, that I couldn’t stand to stay in Vermont and would be moving in with my uncle for a while. So, I took my father’s truck, the same one I still drive today, and went to my Uncle Stefano’s apartment in Brooklyn. He and my aunt Helena are the only family I have in this country. The rest are still in Italy.”
Fidgeting now and desperate to change the subject despite the fact that there was much more to the story, he asked, “Are you Italian, Sabrina? You certainly have the eyes, like ripe black olives, my father would have said.”
Sabrina smiled and replied, “Yes, I am Italian on my mother’s side and French on my father’s.” Inwardly, Sabrina knew he was trying to switch the topic of conversation. She thought sadly how the old truck was the only tangible thing he had left of his father and realized why he had not junked it long ago.
“A beautiful combination,” Gio remarked, the smoldering intensity returning to his regard.
“Thank you.” She lowered her lashes. “But please go on with your story…I mean, if it’s not too difficult.”
Gio continued, “My uncle and aunt took me in, but treated me very coldly. I was so distraught that I ended up dropping out of high school and basically inhabited their cramped guest room twenty four hours a day until I could no longer stand their attitudes. They all but ignored me and even seemed hostile at times.”
“That’s odd.” Sabrina interjected. “Perhaps they were just grieving for the loss of your parents and brother?”
“No, they definitely didn’t seem to be grieving. They just seemed burdened by my presence in their home. So when summer rolled around, I decided to leave and move back to Vermont. I contacted Madeline, but she had already found another guy. Max was the only person who would take me in. I lived with him and his parents for a few months until I was ready to strike out on my own. I was totally broke. My father had been prudent with money, but he didn’t earn enough to be able to save. That man poured every dime he ever made into the house that went up in flames. Anyway, when I moved out of Max’s house, I chose a place to rent here in Burlington because, obviously, it was too painful to go back to Mount Hollow. Then I decided to turn my tragedy into victory. I applied to the fire academy.” Gio stopped there. He felt depleted and stripped bare after his lengthy monologue. But from Sabrina’s warm, benevolent expression, he knew it had not been a mistake to tell her.
The waiter brought over their entrees, and Gio inhaled the spicy aroma from his plate of steak pizzaiola, dripping in warm tomato sauce and garnished with fresh basil. Sabrina was equally pleased with her bowl of pasta primavera, overflowing with bow-tie macaroni, colorful spring vegetables, and creamy alfredo sauce.
Seizing his fork, Gio exclaimed with a wink, “Mangiano! Let’s eat!”
Sabrina grinned at him and for a few moments they ate in silence, thoroughly relishing the expertly prepared cuisine in between swigs of wine. Gio studied her while she ate heartily, silently marveling at her beauty and overwhelming desirability in that snug black dress. Trying not to stare at her daringly cut neckline, he took an extra long gulp of wine and hastily refilled his goblet.
Still brimming with questions and becoming accustomed to the raking perusal of Gio’s stare, Sabrina pursued the topic of the fire. “How did that horrific inferno start?”
With an irritated sigh, Gio replied plainly, “I don’t know. No one does. The fire department conducted a brief investigation, but because of the destructive nature of the fire---it crumbled the house into smithereens and charred all its contents---there was no evidence to analyze.”
“But that’s crazy!” She exclaimed, appalled by how a disaster could be given such cursory attention. “How could they let this awful tragedy go unsolved? I mean, was it arson? If it was, then this would be a triple homicide in addition…” Sabrina trailed off, noticing the hard look on Gio’s face.
“Let’s just change the subject, alright?” He spoke in a firm tone that begged defiance.
But Sabrina would not relent and gently reached out her hand to clasp his across the table as he softened his expression. “I don’t mean to pry, Gio. I just find it unconscionable on the part of the authorities to have given up so easily on this case.”
“It’s not a case.” Gio ground out. “It’s my life. My family! What are you anyway? A travel photographer or a tabloid journalist?”
Refusing to take umbrage at his rude comment, Sabrina said softly, “I’m certainly not a journalist. And I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped my bounds. You don’t have to discuss this with me, but at least for yourself---for the memory of your family---you must have some theories about how this happened.”
“I do.” Gio admitted slowly. “I’ve always had suspicions about our neighbors, Bert and Cathryn Shanty. They hardly ever left their house, and when they did, they were miserable. Didn’t want to talk to anyone. In all honesty, I’ve always wanted to question them, but I’ve never looked back. Besides, they were pretty old back when I was growing up, and I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”
“But what if they are alive? Would you consider going back there? To question them and maybe get some degree of closure?”
Closure. The word and alien concept reverberated in Gio’s mind. The mystery behind his family’s deaths and fall of his childhood home had never allowed him any closure. Perhaps Sabrina was right. Even Max had told him dozens of times to sleuth for answers. It had been so many years since the loss. If he wasn’t ready to face it now, when would he ever be? Gio’s next statement surprised even himself. “I guess I might consider it. But we can’t just show up at their door and accuse an elderly couple of arson and murder.”
“We?” Sabrina repeated.
“Yes, you and me. And maybe Max if he’s not out of town on assignment. Since it was your idea, wouldn’t you be willing to go?”
Sabrina was taken aback by his changed attitude and suddenly felt uncertain about what he was proposing. “Well…if you feel comfortable with my being there. But I’m just a stranger.”
“We can change that.” Gio murmured in a low, intimate voice as Sabrina wondered what his intentions were. “Are you free Saturday afternoon? Afterwards we could spend the evening together, maybe take a drive through the mountains.”
His offer caught her off guard and she said, “OK---but before we go to Mount Hollow, we’ll need to figure out our strategy.”
“You leave that to me. I’ll do some brainstorming, see if Max can trail us in his car, and we’ll drive over in my photogenic truck.” He winked on those last words, and the pair spent the remainder of the evening in much lighter discourse.
They ordered a dessert sampler of tartufo, mini cannolis, and biscotti---perfect for dipping in their extra frothy double cappuccinos. Before they headed to their cars, Gio kissed Sabrina’s hand, detecting the pleasant scent of lilies or some other sweet flower on her skin. This romantic gesture was very out of character for the surly, sometimes chauvinistic fireman who courted women mechanically. But this whole evening had been out of character for him. Grimly, he shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to ignore Sabrina’s lingering scent on his skin.
Chapter 3
An invigorating breeze drifted into the bay window as sun rays created a blinding glare in Sabrina’s living room. The air outside was crisp and beckoning, a natural tonic to Sabrina as she slid brown suede boots over her favorite pair of stonewashed denims. Gio would be at her door any moment to embark on the hour-long drive southeast to Mount Hollow. She had felt comfortable enough by the end of Thursday’s dinner to give him both her home address and phone number.
Disappointingly, he hadn’t called her at all since their date, and Sabrina had to take him on his word that he would be there. She glanced at the cherry oak wall clock and noted that it wa
s a quarter past one. He was fifteen minutes late. With a sinking, foreboding sensation she wondered if Gio had decided not to reopen this agonizing chapter in his life after all. She wouldn’t blame him for that, but she still deserved the courtesy of a formal cancellation!
Northern Moonlight Page 3