by Noni Calbane
“I can’t,” she whispered at him.
“Think about it, will you?” he replied simply.
CHAPTER TWO
It was no good. She couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, the events of the previous day played over and over again in her mind. And with them came the same response to her Grandfathers request. Preposterous!
Getting out of bed, Gaby looked at the clock. It was 9 a.m. Switching on the bathroom light, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror. The same face that greeted her every morning for twenty-six years stared back at her. Her green eyes were definitely brighter than usual, not to mention a little bloodshot. The hair was a total disaster. The sample size hotel conditioner just wouldn’t cut it this morning. Wearing a tight tank top and shorts, she stretched her arms up over her head.
Thank goodness she’d had the willpower to pass on the doughnuts that seemed to appear in the faculty room every morning where she worked. Altogether, her figure could be much worse after spending a year with her sugar junkie colleagues. Curvy, but firm in all the right places she noted, running her hands down her body. Certainly not fit enough to leap across the building tops of Florence to escape the law. She trembled at the thought of carrying out such an escapade.
Of course, the law wouldn’t be after her. They thought the necklace stolen in 1952. The current Count Manetti knew nothing of its whereabouts. It was only a case of gaining access to the hiding place. Gaby bit her lip. Could she?
Shaking her head at her reflection, she knew she didn’t have the intestinal fortitude needed. Her Grandfather may think she was like him, but in truth her parents influence was far more dominant when it came to being responsible, morally upstanding and completely ... dull. No, she told herself, it wasn’t dullness –it was common sense. How on earth could she even be considering something so … so …, reckless and completely foolish.
Swallowing hard the lump in her throat, she decided that when the time came, she would do everything within her power to have the funds to send her Grandfather off in a dignified and respectful way. Besides, she was sure that he was just trying to scare her into accepting his proposition. The old coot was nowhere near death’s door. There was simply too much life in him. And only the good die young, don’t they? Well, according to the saying they do.
Her cell phone rang and she jumped. All this talk of skullduggery had her nerves on edge. Rushing to get it from the bedside table, the caller ID flashed ominously, Sunset Care Facility.
“Hello?” she answered breathlessly. “Yes, this is Gabriella Walker.”
“Miss Walker, I’m calling regarding your Grandfather.”
Fearing the worst, she sank down on the bed, “Oh my God. Is he…?”
“No, no, he’s fine. I’m from the administrative department. It’s regarding an outstanding balance owing on your Grandfathers medical requirements.”
Gaby let out a long breath and relaxed a little. Unfortunately, by the time she’d finished the conversation, the tension had returned two-fold. It seemed there had been a mistake in the calculation of her Grandfathers long term care and the facility was hell-bent on rectifying the situation. Oh, they were being most kind about it, and giving her till the end of September to remit in total.
Sitting in stunned silence, Gaby reviewed her options. She could call her sisters and talk about how they were going to handle it. But Frances and Grace were no more monetarily viable than she was at the moment. Perhaps she could talk to the bank again about another loan? Maybe sell her clunker of a car. But the proceeds would be nowhere near what was owed; and how then would she get to work.
Picking up the phone again, she dialed absently.
“Hello Gabriella,” he answered without fanfare. “I’m guessing you made a decision?”
“Tell me everything I need to know,” she said quietly.
“Come see me later today and I’ll fill you in,” he replied nonchalantly. “Cheer up Gabriella, you’re going to Italy!”
Gaby hung up the phone and let loose a long sigh. Oh my god! This was a bad idea. And she was certifiable for sure. But secretly she wondered if she was more exhilarated than terrified by the idea.
CHAPTER THREE
Settling into her seat, Gaby fastened her seat belt in readiness for takeoff.
She hated flying.
You could quote the facts until you were blue in the face at her. Automobiles were much more likely to have an accident. There was more chance of being hit by a bus crossing the road. None of that mattered. She was sure she was going to be one of the unfortunate few that met their end having had airplane food for their last meal.
Closing her eyes, she wished for sleep to claim her for the next ten hours or so, and that she’d awaken on the tarmac in sunny Italy.
“Are you alright?” a deep voice to her left enquired.
Clutching the armrests in a white-knuckled grip, Gaby replied without opening her eyes. “I’ll be fine, as long as the pilot knows what he’s doing and stays clear of the Italian Alps.”
“I’m not exactly fond of flying myself. It helps to try not to think about.”
Thanks, you’re a big help fella.
Turning towards the voice, Gaby found herself looking into the face of what could only be described as the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Although wearing what was obviously an expensive designer suit, she couldn’t help thinking that he would look more at home on a Californian beach, with his sandy windblown hair and blue, blue eyes.
Gaby found her gaze drawn to his full lips and absently licked her own. Clearing her throat she replied, “I know it’s irrational, but I just can’t wrap my head around something so big, made of steel managing to stay up the air. I mean really, it just shouldn’t be possible!” Oh no! Now she was blathering. A full on case of verbal diarrhea could ensue at any moment!
“Hey?” Reaching out, he placed a warm hand on her arm. “I’m sure we’ll get there in one piece.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Actually, I know for a fact that nothing can possibly happen to this plane.”
His breath was warm on her neck and she shivered. “How can you possibly know that?” she asked nervously.
“Because fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny me getting to know you,” he smiled sexily.
Gaby opened her mouth, but “Oh” was all that came out. She was, to put it bluntly, flabbergasted. Men, especially gorgeous men, just didn’t say things like that to someone like her. Of course, opportunities were limited when you spent most days in the company of seven year olds.
It was hard to believe that four days ago she’d been quite content to while away the summer till school began again in September. But now, she was sitting next to a charming, too sexy for words, hunk of a guy who was flirting with her. Why not just give in and enjoy the moment? She could pretend to be anyone she wanted to be and no-one was around to say otherwise. But no. Instead she was acting exactly like herself -a socially stifled schoolteacher who spent more time organising lessons than going out, and it showed.
Then again, most schoolteachers were not on their way to Italy to steal a priceless 18th century necklace from a Count’s Florentine Villa, were they? So much for acting like herself!
She glanced nervously in his direction, afraid to make eye contact or speak. Great! She was ‘now’ suffering from verbal constipation!
“I’m sorry if I’ve come on a little too strong,” he stated simply, “but in case you haven’t noticed …”
“Yes?” Gaby said expectantly, her eyes meeting his.
“… we’re in the air,” he chuckled, removing his hand from her arm.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” she stammered. Was he laughing at her? Talk about feeling like a fool. He was obviously just trying to get her mind elsewhere during the takeoff. Probably could sense her obvious terror and didn’t want her going hysterical next to him, or clutching for the air sickness bag and missing.
“David Whittaker,” he held out his hand to formally shake hers.
> Taking his hand, she ignored the faint rumblings of awareness shooting through her body. He was still devastatingly handsome, but for all his good looks, she suddenly liked him less for making her feel foolish. “Gaby Walker,” she replied in her best businesslike manner.
Gaby tried to pull her hand away from his, but his grip was firm. “You know Gaby, I really did mean what I said about getting to know you.”
“Did you?” she replied stiffly, finally extricating her hand from his.
“Yeah, I did,” he laughed. “Just my luck this flight will take hours and I can do just that!”
*****
The flight from hell. That’s what it was, Gaby decided. David Whittaker was not the charmer she’d suspected, or rather hoped him to be.
Within two hours of takeoff, her initial attraction had waned to the point of pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak with him. Not that she would have managed to get a word in edgewise. He was nothing if not vocal about all aspects of his life. In fact, Gaby was pretty sure she could write the David Whittaker Story for him if the occasion were ever to arise. So much for wanting to get to know her.
“So after I made my first million, I went back to my first love…”
Yourself? Gaby thought sarcastically.
“… race car driving,” he finished. “But I found it didn’t really fulfill me, you know.”
Gaby checked the overhead screen which showed the flight path, distance and expected time of arrival. Two more hours! Ugh!
He certainly gave new meaning to the song, “You’re so vain”. Absently, Gaby began humming the Carly Simon hit to herself and tuned him out.
“… at the Manetti Villa. Would you?”
Gaby’s ears pricked up at the name. Manetti?
“Huh? What did you say?” Did this guy even notice she hadn’t been listening for the past five minutes?
“I’m invited to a party at Luca Manetti’s on Saturday. I was wondering if you’d like to go?” he repeated, leaning intimately towards her.
Oh. My. God. Gaby couldn’t believe it! Without even trying or having set foot in Italy, she had her In. “I’d love to David,” she replied as sweetly as she could, holding her repulsion to his closeness at bay. “Tell me, how do you know the Count?”
“Well, it’s a long story …,” he began.
Gaby inwardly groaned. Oh, great! The next two hours will just fly by!
CHAPTER FOUR
Her Grandfather had chosen the hotel Relais San Domenico for not only its close proximity to the Villa Manetti, but also for its reputation for being frequented by the wealthy, the famous, and persons who pretended, but fit into neither category. Its luxury was well-known throughout Europe. But, unfortunately its price tag reflected the opulence and grandeur of its hallowed halls.
He had also insisted on her flying first-class, explaining that appearances were everything in upper society. By doing this, he had pretty much guaranteed Gaby going through with the scheme. According to her bank account, the option to back out was all but over, financially speaking.
Gaby had argued that no-one she met in Italy would have the slightest notion that she’d flown coach, but in retrospect her Grandfather’s idea was spot-on. She would never have met David Whittaker if she had been in coach.
Of course, she was using him to gain access to the party thrown by the Manetti’s, and that bothered her immensely. But it bothered her more that she had no qualms about using him. The man was a terrible bore, but that didn’t automatically entitle her to manipulate him in such a way.
She walked over to the antique armoire doubling as a closet and started hanging her clothes on the hangers provided. The hotel provided a maid service to unpack for her, but every penny, or rather euro, was staying firmly in her pocket for essentials only. This was no holiday; this was … what? A scheme, a caper, a foolish endeavour, or was it really just an old man’s last stand against the system –living vicariously through his Granddaughter to do one last job.
Putting the last of her clothes away, Gaby made her way to the room’s small balcony that overlooked a quiet piazza below. A fountain featuring a man and woman embracing caught her eye; the water spilling over them erotically. Smiling at its beauty, she couldn’t believe it. She was in Italy. And she was actually going through with Gran-pop’s crazy plan; even though it went against everything she’d ever believed in.
Her face fell at the thought. There was no way that Gaby had ever imagined herself a saint, but what she was planning to do was so fundamentally against her grain, it had her questioning her ethics. Morally, it was totally reprehensible and she should be ashamed of herself. But surprisingly, she wasn’t? The words of her Grandfather repeated in her head, “You, Gabriella, are the most like me”. Was it true? Was she more like him than she cared to admit?
Pushing the disquieting thoughts from her head, Gaby quickly showered and got into her pajamas. She would hardly be mistaken for a Victoria’s Secret model in her modest attire, but comfort beckoned after such a long and tiring trip.
Lying on the super-soft mattress, she gazed at the frescos on the ceiling. According to the guest handbook they were original to the building. For centuries they had graced this bedchamber, now a hotel room for the elite traveller.
She wondered who had lain in the very same spot and looked as she did at the angels floating above. Did a mother give birth while the angels watched? Did a woman see them over her lovers shoulder while he made passionate love to her? Or did an old man lie dying and think the angels were welcoming him through St Peters gates?
Gaby closed her eyes and thought of her Grandfather. There was a lot to do tomorrow. Two days till the party. She’d call Gran-pop in the morning, tell him about her luck at getting an In so quickly, and go over it all once again. If all went to plan, she’d be in and out of Italy much sooner than she had anticipated.
He’d told her before she left, “Quit worrying! Nothing will go wrong”. And she had to believe him on this point, for she knew he loved her dearly.
Clinton Walker may have been many things. A notorious thief, a bad husband and an equally bad father, but there was no way he would put his granddaughter in harm’s way. Or so she hoped.
*****
Gaby breathed a sigh of relief as the Villa came into view. Thank goodness they’d arrived. Having fought off David Whittaker’s wandering hands the entire ten minutes it took to get from her hotel to the party, Gaby was eager to escape him at the first opportunity. He was almost as much a lech as a bore!
Upon entering Villa Manetti on David’s arm, she noticed that unlike other historical buildings, this one had a decidedly modern feel. Although the structure was definitively 16th century in its architecture, the furnishings were either eclectically modern or antiques that had been updated with boldly coloured geometric upholstery. It could all have been quite over the top, but whoever had a hand in the design, managed to strike the perfect balance of old and new.
From the looks of it, it had been redone quite recently and Gaby hoped the library remained untouched. If not, it could throw one gigantic spanner in the works.
“David!” A beautiful, elegant blonde dripping with diamonds rushed over and hooked her arm with his. “You bad boy, how dare you be in town and not look me up!”
“But baby, I only just got into Florence,” he drawled. “We have plenty of time to catch up.” Ignoring Gaby, it was obvious that after rejecting his advances in the limousine, the blonde was now the focus of his amorous attentions.
Gaby smirked. There’s nothing quite like being invisible. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to spend the night trying to shake him. All the better for her to scope out the Villa and not have to listen to the Chronicles of Whittaker!
Edging her way over to the corner of the room, Gaby observed the mix of people drinking and socializing before her. The dress she chose for the evening may not have been the latest in haute couture, but at least it suited her body type. What looked good on the runway
didn’t necessarily translate to the average woman. A fact that most of the society matrons seemed to have missed from what she could see. The men were all decked out in Savile Row and Italian designer suits of the finest quality. It was all so glamorous and intimidating at the same time.
She looked down at her dress from Macys and wondered what they’d all think if they knew she’d gotten it on sale for $99.99 last year. Thank goodness, she’d ignored her Grandfather’s request to splurge. As far as she was concerned, she looked fine. The green strapless silk cocktail dress hugged her curves, but was hardly a memorable fashion statement. She’d let her hair hang loose in soft waves, cascading down her back to her shoulder blades. Simple, classy, but not flashy. No attention seeking get-up tonight. Standing out was not a good idea considering she wanted to slip unbeknownst around the Villa, locate the library, the hiding place and the necklace and get out without detection. She only hoped she had the time and opportunity to be able to do what she needed.
The party was being held in the main reception room and Gaby tried to remember its exact placement on the palm-sized map her Grandfather had sketched for her. She needed to look at the map again and get her bearings. A copy was safely stashed down the front of her dress, but a ladies room would be required to retrieve it.
Grabbing a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter’s tray, she wandered through the crowd, listening to bits and pieces of conversation as she went. For the most part, Italian and French was being spoken, and she found that she could still understand what was being said. Gran-pop had said her linguistics would come in handy. But so far, just fashion, investments and parties were the topics of conversation.
“Wonder where Whittaker picked up his latest conquest. From the looks of it, his taste is slipping!” a woman chuckled in Italian.
Gaby spun around. Were the couple with their backs to her talking about her? She quickly ducked behind a column near the door to the terrace, where she could hear, but not be seen in the shadows.