An Apartment in Venice

by Marlene Hill

  “We never do know our true heritage, do we?” he said ignoring her comment about his car. “I mean, if we go back far enough—”

  “You could be right.”

  “Of course the tradition doesn’t include daily care and feeding, but it does mean that when I’m in need, you will rush to my rescue. And what I need most is to have dinner with you.”

  “You’re good,” she said putting her hands on her hips. “It’s tempting to say no just to hear what other plan you’ll come up with, but—”

  “But you’ll say yes, right? I know of a Chinese restaurant in the northern part of Vicenza called La Muraglia.”

  Giulia wrinkled her nose in distaste and said, “A Chinese restaurant called The Wall. How clever of them.”

  “Uh oh. Guess I hit the wrong wall with that idea. How about a Pugliese restaurant? I know a good one, Zio Zeb.”

  “Uncle Zeb, huh? That does sound better than Chinese cuisine in Italy. I haven’t enjoyed Chinese food anywhere except San Francisco or Seattle.”

  “Neither have I. It just popped into my head. You see, Giulia, I’m not nearly as slick as you might think.”

  She liked that touch of vulnerability about him or was it? A man like Chuck would surely know women like a touch of vulnerability in a man. She could go back and forth on this forever and hated feeling so cynical. She smiled and let it go knowing that once again she’d miss the inside of the Villa.

  “How’d you get here today?” he asked.

  “Bus and feet.”

  “Could I offer you a ride in my limousine?” He started to get up to walk around to the passenger side.

  “Save your ankle,” she said. “I can open the door.” Once she was in and looked around, she said, “There’s a lot more space inside this piccola macchina than I ever expected. I’ll take back my remark about you wearing it. But,” she stifled a giggle. “I have to admit it did look as if you were putting it on.”

  He laughed, too. “It’s surprisingly spacious for long legs, and it offers more head room than some larger cars.”

  After a couple wrong turns, they arrived at the trattoria, and this time Chuck was out of the car and around to Giulia’s door before she had located the handle. His ankle seemed no worse for that quick action, and she questioned just how bad that tumble had been. She felt warmth spread through her body. It had been ages since someone had seemed genuinely interested in wanting to be with her—only for her and not what she might do for them.

  As they entered the restaurant, traces of garlic, oregano and rosemary wafted from the kitchen. “There’s nothing quite like the aroma of Italian cooking,” Giulia said.

  “It’s one of life’s greatest pleasures,” he said. But not the only one, he thought, while he watched the natural, feminine sway of her hips as she followed the waiter. Her slacks weren’t skin tight but still, they fit her round ass perfectly. Down boy.

  People were chatting and laughing at nearby tables. Chuck spoke to the waiter and soon they were taken into a quiet, dark alcove. “Hope this corner suits you. The other diners are having too much fun.”

  “Oh yes. I like it more quiet, too. What’s good here?”

  “I haven’t eaten here much. Usually eat in Venice or at my own place, but they have an interesting specialty, Ricci di Mare, sea urchins, with pasta. No oil, no cheese, just the taste of the sea with maybe some parsley thrown in. As you know, ‘Pugliese’ cuisine comes from Apulia which is pretty much one long seashore down there on Italy’s heel. Everyone grows up eating lots of raw fish. Sashimi isn’t new to Apuliani, they just didn’t know what to call it until the Japanese told them.”

  “So the ricci di mare aren’t cooked except by the hot pasta?”

  “That’s right. Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all. But what do sea urchins taste like?”

  “The truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “In my opinion, they taste like lobster liver.”

  Giulia wrinkled her nose again. “Isn’t that the green stuff that’s really the lobster’s digestive tract?”

  “It is,” he said with a lop-sided grin that deepened his right dimple.

  “Hmm. Any other recommendations?”

  He burst into laughter leaning back on his chair. Then he held the menu under the lamp curved over their table, pointing to Orecchiette Barese, little ear-shaped pastas, Bari style. It was described as including rapini and sweet Italian sausage. “This one was delicious the last time I was here. My mouth’s already watering.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  “Red or white wine?” he asked.

  “Red please.”

  The waiter took their orders for Orecchiette, to be followed by green salads. Now what, Giulia wondered?

  * * *

  With another half grin, Chuck said, “Thanks for taking the first step toward your commitment.”

  “Is this for life?” she said, raising her voice in mock amazement, wondering if he knew how sexy he looked when that dimple appeared.

  “We aren’t eating Chinese food but you’re not off the hook.”

  “Next time, maybe I won’t shout when you’re being attacked.”

  “Would you be that cruel?” He asked, engaging her eyes.

  “Maybeee.” She hadn’t bantered this way for… how long? Maybe never. “Have you been to Apulia?” she asked, hoping to switch attention back to him.

  “I have. My mother’s family’s from Apulia. When she was alive, I took her to visit her grandparents and cousins and aunts and second cousins. You get the idea. And you?”

  “All my relatives are in the North and not one big family. Until I was an adult, our trips were always to the Veneto. I’ve often thought about visiting the South, but family constraints held me back. I have been as far as Rome and Naples. Now though,” she lifted her glass but didn’t drink. Her voice trailed off as she focused on her dream of life in Venice.

  “Now though?”

  “I drifted didn’t I?” she said smiling. “Since I was about seven—when Mom first took me into Venice—I’ve been determined to live there. Finally, I think it’s going to happen.”

  “Why didn’t you take an apartment in Venice right away?”

  “Financial reasons. It will take awhile yet before I can afford the apartment I want. As a student, I accepted cramped quarters with lousy plumbing and leaky roofs, but with savings and an inheritance from my Aunt Loretta, I’m getting closer.”

  “You’ll be buying an apartment?”

  “Oh no. My dreams aren’t that lofty. I have student loans to pay, but a spacious rental with a water view might be in my price range. Do you know anything about rental apartments near San Giobbe? Marlowe and I were there yesterday. Because of her, I finally got inside that little church. Apartments might be less expensive in that area.”

  “I know where you mean,” he said, “but I’d think the noise from the causeway would be a problem.”

  “I thought so too, but for the short time we were there, it was blessedly quiet. I’d need to check it out at other times of the day and night. For sure, one reason I want to live in Venice is the quiet.” Great job of getting him to talk about himself.

  Their wine and bread were served and when the waiter left, Giulia said, “You know where I grew up, how about you?”

  “You want a resume?” he asked with a full-fledged grin.

  She took a sip of wine, her eyes focused on his mouth and waited.

  “Okay, fair enough. I grew up in the tenements of Elizabeth, New Jersey. One sister, two brothers. Dad worked in a refinery—when he wasn’t drunk. Mom worked in the factory when we kids were old enough for school. At seventeen, I had an opportunity to get out by entering the Air Force Academy but…”

  This time, he was quiet as he broke off a piece of bread and held it mid-air instead of eating it.

  “Obviously, you took advantage of that chance.”

  “Yeah, I did,” and he laid his hunk of bread down s
till looking at it. “I hated to leave Mom in that situation, but she insisted I go. With hindsight, I know she had cleverly convinced me I was doing it for her.”

  “Seventeen. Isn’t that too young?”

  “Not with parental permission, at least at that time.”

  “Was that a good experience going from New Jersey to Colorado?”

  He let out a strained snort. “It took serious adjustment, but I saw it as a great opportunity for someone like me. I got my education, applied for as many training programs as I could, and felt I’d hit the jackpot when I was accepted into Pepperdine’s graduate business school in Irvine. Not a bad drive from the March Air Force Base near Riverside where I was stationed. But talk about adjustment. The Pepperdine environment was the most difficult. It was a whole different world.”

  “How so? I’ve heard it’s a respected institution.”

  “It is. But… it’s private and costly. Mostly well-heeled students from other expensive colleges attend. Pepperdine was originally founded by conservative Protestants. Even though my family didn’t observe Catholicism except for holidays, the strong Protestant influence felt like being in a foreign country. Marc and I met in the MBA program. He felt like a duck out of water, too. As you might have guessed, we stayed in touch and both ended in the Veneto. And that’s enough about me.” And he turned eagerly toward the approaching waiter. “Here comes our pasta.”

  They ate in silence. He noticed that she enjoyed the combination of strong garlic and spicy sausage with the braised green rapini.

  “Are your brothers and sister still in New Jersey?” she asked.

  “Relentless aren’t you?” he said, but didn’t feel upset. Lord how could anyone be upset with her? Those intelligent eyes, her smooth olive skin and brown curls with tawny streaks in them. “Do you realize you have two colors in your hair as well as your eyes?” he said.

  “Well, uh yes, I think I do.”

  He laughed. “Of course you do. We’ve only met but I can’t believe you would sit with strands of hair pulled through holes of diabolic headgear.”

  “You’re right. I don’t go through that torture, but how in the world do you know about that?”

  “My ex-wife,” he said, flattening his lips as firmly as a closed door.

  They both dipped their heads and continued to eat.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m enjoying myself too much to pursue that story. Maybe another time?”

  “We all have uncomfortable baggage.”

  “We do.” He laid his hand on hers for a moment and let his thumb move back and forth across her knuckles.

  After a few moments, she withdrew her hand. Damn. She’s uneasy again.

  They spent the rest of the meal in light conversation. He answered her questions about how the two separate military groups functioned on the base—the Army and the smaller combat-ready members of the 173rd Airborne. She sparkled as she told a few amusing incidents in her classes, and Chuck wondered if he was falling for her. He’d played the smooth operator for too long, and now, it felt strange to not be playing games—to feel tongue-tied.

  * * *

  He parked in front of the pensione and, without a limp, made it to her side of the car as she opened the door herself.

  “It’s only fair that I take you back to the Villa since you barely got past the ticket shack.”

  She didn’t answer.

  At the door, he put his hands on her shoulders, leaned down to give her a light—a very light—kiss. She didn’t flinch. He was tempted to deepen it but instead, took her hands and looked into her eyes. As he turned to go, he swung back to remind her of the dinner on Friday evening with Marlowe and Marc. “I’ll come by to take you to the train about six. Okay?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Six. Yes. I’ll be here. And thanks for dinner. It was fun.”

  When he was gone, she made her way to her apartment, touching her lips and remembering his sensual touch along the back of her hand. She wondered why he’d been at Villa Rotonda.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I will not meet you at the Hotel De La Ville! I will never go there again.”

  “Coccolona, what’s wrong?”

  “You know what’s wrong. I’ll be at Osteria il Grottino having a glass of wine this afternoon at four thirty. Come if you want to discuss this. It’s sotto—”

  “I know where it is. Under the Palladiana. Calma, calma. I’ll be there, little one. I’ll be there.”

  She felt shaky after yelling at her nonno. But thought maybe she was learning how to deal with him. Maybe he’d never had a woman tell him where to be and what time to be there. He’d seemed almost nervous. Hunh. It’s about time I stand stronger against men like Nonno Tony. He’s a rogue who comes in and sweeps you off your feet. Is that why I was drawn to bad-boy charmers like Ricky and Jason?

  * * *

  Monday afternoon, she watched as Tony rushed through the door of the cave-like café located beneath another famous Palladio building. He stood silhouetted against the light from the entryway at the top of the stairs. She admired him, always had. At seventy-seven, he still cut an exciting figure. Suddenly, he spied her and dashed down the steps to her table. He leaned down to give her a kiss—she’d thought—but instead, he lifted her out of her chair into a big bear hug. And, of course, she laughed and hugged back.

  “Ah, you are as beautiful as ever, piccolina. Now, what are you having? Prosecco?”

  She held up her glass to show him its ruby liquid. “A local Valpolicella, Ripasso style, but this one’s not too sweet. Try it, you’ll like it.”

  “Is that an order?” he said grinning.

  “Of course not.”

  “Who’s buying?” he asked.

  “You are.”

  He burst into laughter and went to the bar to request his order then joined her again. “Allora. Why are you upset with your old nonno?”

  “You didn’t keep your promise. You told Signor Botteri I was your granddaughter. Don’t try to deny it. The way he leaned over to stare into my eyes was a dead giveaway.”

  “But I’m proud of you and also wanted to make sure he would trust me.”

  “Why do you need me for him to trust you?”

  “This is my first time to deal with him—he’s a big dealer in the region. I heard he’s a family man and thought sending my own granddaughter would convince him.”

  “Well, you blew it. He may never trust you again since I didn’t have eyes like yours or dark curly hair.”

  He sighed. Short of apologizing outright, he took her hands and held them to his heart. “You are strong, piccolina. How did you get that way?”

  “Life, Nonno Tony. Life.”

  “La mia dolcezza, my sweetie, did someone break your heart?”

  Thinking of Jason’s lies, she sighed. “A long time ago.”

  “That’s lucky for him or I’d break—”

  “No need for rough stuff. He said one thing, I believed another.”

  He nodded. “Now. Tell me how your life in Vicenza goes. Surely with all those young stalloni at the base, you’ll find your Signor Perfetto.”

  “Hunh. They’re too much like my brothers.”

  “The officers?”

  “Maybe. When I’m ready. But Nonno, do you know much about this jeweler, Botteri? I fear he may deal with human beings more than diamonds.”

  “Dimmi, dimmi, tell me, tell me.” Nonno leaned close, cupping his hands around her face.

  “Let me back up. Before classes started, I walked into town and stopped into Bar La Ville. He’d been sitting in the back and sent a drink to me via the barista. I sent it back and left.”

  “E cosi? And so?”

  “Last Monday, I remembered where I’d seen him.”

  Tony nodded, “And?”

  “After I gave your gems to him and was walking out of the hotel, an elegant woman stopped me and invited me for tea. Seemed strange, but I was curious. Turns out she was a solicitor for an escort service. If I agreed
to join her service, a certain gentleman, who had noticed me earlier, wanted to be my exclusive client!”

  Nonno sat back astonished.

  Finally, he’s taking me seriously. “I think your big-man jeweler is more than a gem dealer. Nonno do you want to be il mio ruffiano, my pimp?”

  “Dio mio,” he groaned. “No! I cannot believe this.” He scooted his chair next to hers, pulling her into his arms. They stayed close a few moments.

  “Good,” she said. “I knew so, Nonno. With all my heart I knew so.” When he released her, they both had tears in their eyes. She trembled. He pulled her close again, moving his hands in soft circles on her back as he had done long ago when she’d been afraid of shadows in her attic room.

  “I will ask around about this man. Of course when he first saw you, he didn’t know you were mio angelo. And not being blind, he was attracted to you.” He kissed her forehead.

  She shook her index finger at him. “But I told you,” then she poked him twice in his chest, “that I’d wear a disguise.”

  “You did,” he said grasping her finger. He kissed it and hung his head like a school boy caught in a lie. She wondered how often he was contrite like this with Nonna. “I admit, piccolina, I didn’t take you seriously.”

  “By the way, I didn’t take one of the gems as you had suggested. In fact, I didn’t touch any of it. Not at all. When I handed over the packet, I was wearing the black kid gloves you and Nonna gave me last Christmas. From the start, I didn’t feel good about this, and now I worry about you. A friend said that suspicious deals go on at Hotel De La Ville.” She lowered her voice, “Maybe even the ’Ndrangheta are involved. I will not go there again.”

  “Good, that’s good, bambina. Stay away. And now, we’ll have a few bites before I leave for home.”

  After they ate, they stood and hugged again. “I’m glad we had this conversation,” he said.

  “Me, too. Take care of yourself, Nonno Tony. Think of Nonna, she loves you so much, you know.”

  “Si, si. E lei è la mia ancora di salvezza, and she’s my anchor, my salvation.”

  “And you are hers. Give her a hug for me.”