The Five-Day Dig

by Jennifer Malin

  “As a matter of fact, an amazing opportunity came up. I’m going to need to stay here a couple more weeks.”

  “A couple weeks?” Christina’s tone hardened. The note rang all too familiar. “Are you sure it’s important?”

  Winnie let herself flop back on the bed. “Why? Is something wrong at home?”

  “I’m worried about Sam. I think he’s on one of his downslides.”

  A knot wound in her stomach. Bipolar disorder had probably had a hand in destroying their father, and mood swings had stalked their brother since childhood. “He’s disappointed that he didn’t find anything among Dad’s papers?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on. He left Mom’s three days ago, but he hasn’t been home, as far as I can tell. I tried both his house and cell, then stopped by his place this morning. My message was still on the machine.”

  “Did Mom say he was upset when he left?”

  “He seemed fine to her. But she didn’t ask him anything about going through Dad’s things. She didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ugh.” Winnie drew in a deep breath. “I’ll call his cell. Or I’ll text him. He may respond better to that.”

  “Better say a prayer, too.”

  The knot in her gut tightened. “You know I don’t do prayers.”

  “Not even for your brother?”

  “Why do we have to talk about this?” This was why she didn’t like to call her sister. “It only stirs up bad memories. We’ve been over it a thousand times since we were kids.”

  “Which only proves you’re being childish.”

  A candle and a matchbox on the nightstand caught her eye. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll light a candle. There’s one right here.”

  “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  Of course, it wasn’t enough. With Christina, nothing ever was.

  Winnie picked up the matches, but she needed both hands to light one and decided to do it after the phone call. As she tossed the matchbook back on the table, the Madonna painting caught her gaze again. The mother sat on a throne with her child balanced on her knee. In the background, something was written. Winnie made out the words Sedes Sapientiae – Latin for “Seat of Wisdom.”

  Curious.

  Gears began to turn in her brain. The intellectual side of her personality kicked in, squelching the emotional side. She went still as she focused on the text. “Christina, what would the words ‘Seat of Wisdom’ mean inscribed on a Madonna and Child painting?”

  A couple ticks of silence passed. “Why?”

  “There’s a painting in my room with those words in Latin.”

  “I guess it’s one of the Virgin’s titles.” Her voice was dull. “She has a lot of them.”

  “Mary is the Seat of Wisdom?” Winnie stared at the poker-faced woman in the painting. “Why is she associated with wisdom?”

  Christina let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. She is the Mother of God. She’s associated with good things in general.”

  “There must be more to it than that – some kind of tradition that explains the title – though it’s possible the origins have been lost to us. It’s interesting that although ancient women weren’t often educated, representations of wisdom are traditionally female. Sophia and Athena are two other examples.”

  “As usual, you’re analyzing something that needs no explanation. Let’s talk about something else. What’s the opportunity that came up for you?”

  Winnie continued frowning at the painting. A shade of an idea teased her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. It’s late here. Give Eddie and the kids my love.”

  “OK. Good night.”

  “Buona notte.”

  She put the phone down then climbed onto the bed in a kneeling position to get a closer look at the painting. Simple rigid lines composed the two figures, but the throne boasted delicate details. The artist had placed the emphasis on the seat. It reminded her of something ... but what?

  After pondering it for another moment, she had to concede defeat. Maybe it would come to her at some random time when she wasn’t trying so hard.

  She got off the bed, lit the candle for Sam as promised, then sent him a short text message. After waiting a few seconds to see if he responded, she set the phone on the nightstand and lay down with a book: Metamorphoses by Apuleius.

  An hour or so later, her phone buzzed with a text. She snatched it up and checked the screen, but the message was from Chaz. He’d never texted her before. Concerned that he might have a problem, she clicked on the message.

  “r u up?” it read.

  That didn’t sound urgent. She recalled that she was annoyed at him for blabbing her news to Farber after she had told him not to. Pursing her lips, she thumb-typed a response: “aren’t u on a date?”

  His answer came back quickly: “ditched me 4 dunk.”

  She rolled her eyes but had to admit to herself that the bluntness of his response kind of amused her. She typed, “what do u want?”

  “got info about the dig,” he wrote. “can i come by?”

  The promise of new details about the project interested her, but seeing him this late at night didn’t seem appropriate. His comment in the car about coming to her room popped into her mind. Did he remember it? Doubtful. It hadn’t meant anything to him.

  She glanced at the digital alarm clock on the night table: 23:30 – almost midnight. Shaking her head to herself, she typed, “can u wait till morning?”

  “rather not. excited.”

  A laugh slipped out of her. “u always r,” she wrote.

  His answer came back a minute later: “u don’t want 2 douse my enthusiasm?”

  That possibility didn’t worry her, but she did feel another tug of curiosity. She was still dressed and didn’t feel tired. Giving in, she wrote, “ok, 4 a few minutes.”

  “cool. tvb.”

  The abbreviation drew a blank, but before she had time to question him about it, a knock sounded at the door. She got up, checked the peephole, and opened the door for him.

  “What does ‘TVB’ stand for?” she asked.

  He grinned at her. “Ti voglio bene. I picked up the abbreviation from the locals.”

  “That’s how they sign off from texting?” She stepped back to let him inside. “I thought it meant, ‘I love you’ – roughly.”

  “Roughly, it can, but translated more literally, it’s ‘I wish you well.’ I figured, being language-oriented, you’d translate it literally.”

  He understood how her mind worked, she thought, impressed and flattered. “If I’d thought about it, I would have, assuming I knew what the initials stood for.”

  “Now you do. Of course, the Italians do express affection more freely than we Anglos. They also close texts and e-mails with un abraccio or un bacio. Would you rather I do that?”

  A hug or a kiss? She shot him a wry look but didn’t dare hold his gaze. “Didn’t we cover this earlier?”

  “We didn’t exhaust the subject.”

  “We’re not going to.”

  He glanced around the small room, furnished with only a double bed, a dresser and a nightstand. His gaze came to rest on the burning candle. “I like the mood lighting.”

  His flirting seemed to have stepped up a notch. Was there some way she was encouraging him? Pheromones? Letting him in her room at midnight? Foolish mistake.

  She walked over to the lamp and turned it all the way up. “Why did you tell Dr. Farber about ‘The Five-Day Dig’ when I asked you not to?”

  His eyes widened. “I thought he knew. I didn’t run into him until half-eight. I was sure by then you would have told him.”

  She had to admit that any reasonable person would have told him by then. “OK. I can understand that.” Sitting down on the bed near her pillow, she asked, “So, what’s the scoop that brings you here?”

  He took a seat at the foot of the mattress – a position she noted with heightened awareness. “Enza and I ran int
o Dunk Mortill at the wine bar. Being acquainted with him personally is brilliant.”

  “Even when he steals your date?”

  He gave her a mischievous look. “I suppose you were right when you said I wouldn’t get anywhere with Italian girls.”

  Repeated to her, the words sounded horrendous. “Did I really say that?”

  “I knew you were just jealous.”

  She looked away. In retrospect, the comment did sound like jealousy. How mortifying. Scrambling to make light of it, she could only manage a grimace, no retort.

  He picked up the book she’d been reading and studied the cover. “Dunk filled us in about the grocery list and the triticum purpurea.”

  “So he told you I translated the recipe.” To distract herself, she picked up her phone and checked text messages. None in the last two minutes. No surprise there. “What else did you find out?”

  “One of the local punters says he has this purple wheat growing wild on his land. Dunk is getting some tomorrow so he can brew the recipe. We’ll have the beer in time for shooting.”

  She snorted. “Well, I guess if we have to do experimental archaeology, we might as well be drunk for it.”

  Laughing, he flipped through her book. “Instead of ‘In vino veritas,’ our motto will be ‘In cerevisia veritas’: ‘In beer, there is truth.’ ”

  “Good one. Anything else?”

  “Dunk mentioned you’re going to be a priestess for the reenactment segment of the episode.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Oh, no, I’m not. I’m taking a background role, if any.”

  “You’re the only one who speaks Latin well enough to lead the rituals.”

  She weighed the point, then shook her head. “Wouldn’t doing them in English make the segment more accessible to viewers?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” He closed her book and set it aside on the mattress. “I’ll be a supplicant begging for your favor. Of course, I’m used to that role.”

  Since he had been an ace student and a top-notch assistant, the remark was absurd – or laced with double entendre. “Oh, please!” She snatched up her book and put it on the nightstand. “Didn’t you learn anything relevant to the dig itself?”

  “Not much. One thing is that Signore Rentino is limiting the area where we can excavate. Enza is furious with him.”

  She shrugged. “We only have five days to excavate, anyway. How much can we get done in that time?”

  “Also, their house is being prepared for us to shift into. It will be much more posh than this place.” He looked around again. “My room here is even smaller than yours.”

  “Well, it’s time for you to get back to it.” She went to the door and opened it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He took his time about getting up, smiling pointedly at her as he did.

  That was when she knew for sure that he was every bit as conscious of the intimacy of the setting as she was – and that her nervousness about it amused him.

  “Buona notte, Chaz.”

  “Buona notte, Winnie.” His gaze locked on hers. “Remember: We’re meeting for breakfast.”

  She couldn’t hold his stare. “Right.”

  As soon as he exited, she shut the door and locked it.

  Egads. She combed her fingers through her hair. He had always been a bit of a flirt, but before this trip she had shrugged off his wisecracks without any thought. She still didn’t believe for a second that her own misplaced lust was requited. He was teasing her, and she was feeding the joke by responding like a schoolgirl.

  Now they were lined up to work side-by-side on an intense project in a foreign country. The temptation would be to stick close to him, but she couldn’t let him get any further under her skin. She had to back away. Having breakfast with him the next morning might be OK, but the late-night visits to her room and the car rides alone with him had to stop.

  Sighing, she went into the small bathroom off her room and splashed cold water on her face. On top of all her other qualms about doing “The Five-Day Dig,” she couldn’t believe she was battling a crush on her TA.

  She wondered what had really happened on his date with Enza Rentino. Even if the girl was a little starstruck by Dunk, it seemed unlikely she’d be attracted to a guy the same age as her father. Maybe she’d keep seeing Chaz, and he wouldn’t have time to hound Winnie. Then Winnie could console herself by flirting with Domenico.

  For the sake of her dignity, she hoped so.

  SETTE

  FIRST THING IN the morning, Winnie checked e-mail and text messages. Sam still hadn’t responded, but she had a message from Liz inviting her to accompany the Weiland U crew that evening on a light-and-sound tour of Pompeii.

  At first she wanted to bow out. Her family had gone to Pompeii on that fatal vacation, and she still felt reluctant to return to the places they’d visited. On the other hand, she had wonderful memories of the ancient town, and if she went tonight, she would be visiting in the dark, which would be a different experience. She’d also been handling Italy well so far. Why not push herself a little further?

  She wrote back and accepted but added a request for Liz to call her as soon as she got a chance.

  On her way to the breakfast room, her phone rang with the call. She explained her misgivings to Liz, and her friend assured her that in a worst-case scenario, they could leave the tour early.

  Thanking her, Winnie got into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby. “I don’t think it will come to that, but it’s good to have the option. On a brighter note, I also wanted to tell you that I’m staying in Italy for two extra weeks. It’s bizarre, but I’ve been asked to translate inscriptions for an episode of ‘The Five-Day Dig.’ ”

  “That’s fantastic!” Liz sounded excited. “I know you were hoping to come up with a project while you’re here. And my flight home isn’t until Friday, so now you and I will have time to do some sightseeing.”

  “I’d love that.” She watched the floor numbers light up and go out as the elevator descended. “What do you think about the opportunity, though? Have you seen the show?”

  “I’ve watched it a few times, but, frankly, their methods bother me. They cut corners, and I’m sure they damage artifacts in their rush to uncover ‘high-status’ finds on each episode.”

  Winnie bit her lower lip. “I got that impression, too. Of course, Chaz and I will try to prevent that sort of carelessness, if we witness it. He’s doing the show with me.”

  “I’ll feel better with you two keeping an eye on them.” Her friend paused. “It will be nice to have your TA working with you, especially such a cute one.”

  She couldn’t seem to come up with a response. Her lack of one made her look suspicious.

  Liz laughed. “Is there something going on between you two?”

  “Of course not. He’s too young for me.”

  “Cougars are fashionable these days.”

  “Ugh. I’m sure the thought would repulse him.” The elevator doors opened, and she stepped into the lobby, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “If I have time to flirt with anyone during the filming, it’ll be Domenico Rentino.”

  “I approve of that plan, too. How does he fit into the picture?”

  Winnie filled her in on the details about the excavation, then hung up and went to the breakfast room.

  Chaz sat in a corner with a cup of cappuccino, thumb-typing into his smart phone. Just spotting his black mop of hair gave her a thrill, followed instantly by a rush of shame.

  Sensing her gaze, he looked up and smiled. He put his phone away and got up to join her at the breakfast buffet. “I was just e-mailing my mum. She wants to see me, so she’s paying for my flight home tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week.”

  “Oh, great.” She felt relieved. The time away from him would do her good.

  While they looked over a selection of baked goods, fruit and yogurt, she considered offering him a ride to the airport, but setting up a dramatic good-bye scene
seemed unwise. Maybe after a week apart, she could relent on her self-imposed restrictions and pick him up.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Dr. Farber is leaving at the same time, and he offered me a ride in his limo.” He grinned at her. “I’ll miss the Punto, though.”

  She laughed. “Then it will be all the sweeter next week when I pick you up in it.”

  “That will indeed be sweet. Thank you.”

  They chose breakfast items and sat down to talk about the details Dunk had e-mailed about the filming. After they’d gone over the information, she asked Chaz to tell her about his favorite episodes of “The Dig,” as he referred to it.

  He described several shows that revolved around fascinating Roman sites. All had all taken place in the early days of the program, she noticed. She suspected his enthusiasm for it hinged on getting his first glimpses into an era that captivated him, but she kept the thought to herself. Her opinion of the show didn’t change.

  As they wrapped up their meal, the party from Weiland U came in. Liz rushed over to their table. “I’m glad we caught you. I forgot to tell you we’re meeting in the lobby at seven tonight.” She turned to Chaz. “Are you coming with us? The more, the merrier.”

  He looked at Winnie, his expression curious.

  She faltered. If not for her crush on him, she would have seconded the invitation without hesitation – not that she would have expected him to go. He probably had something better lined up for his last night in Italy.

  The realization eased her mind, and she smiled. “We’re going to do the Pompeii night tour. It’s touristy, not scholarly, and I know that you worked on the site one summer, so I guess it’s probably not worth your while.”

  “I’d love to go.” He looked back at Liz, missing the surprised reaction from Winnie. “I spent a little time documenting the site, but ... it’s Pompeii. You never stop learning from a place like that.”

  Liz smiled. “Fabulous. We’ll see you both tonight.”

  Winnie drew in a deep breath. At least they’d be with a group, not alone.

  “If we’re going out tonight, I’d better get my packing done now.” Chaz got up and addressed Winnie. “Are you going upstairs?”