On the way into Florence, Howard and I filled Sonia in on our status as not related-sort of related.
She looked shocked. “You’re telling me you’re not actually father and daughter?”
“Not technically,” I said.
“And, Howard, you’ve known all along?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, then started fanning herself with her wallet. “Only in Italy.”
Howard looked at her. “And, Sonia, in the future please don’t redirect any of my deliveries. Although in this case I think it worked out okay.”
“Cross my heart. I’ll never do anything like that again.” She turned around so she was facing me. “What time does Ren pick you up?”
“At nine. But I’m not going with Ren. I’m going with Thomas.”
“Oh. But I thought that you and Ren . . .” She trailed off.
“You thought me and Ren what?”
Howard glanced at Sonia, then met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “You know how in English we say that people wear their hearts on their sleeves? Well, in Italian, you say ‘avere il cuore in mano.’ You hold your heart in your hand. Every time Ren looks at you I think of that saying. He’s crazy about you.”
“No, he isn’t.”
Sonia chimed in. “Of course he is. And you can’t blame him. Look at you. The poor thing can’t help himself.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
“He does?” Howard asked.
I nodded.
“Well, how do you feel about him?”
They both looked at me and I managed to stay quiet for about three seconds before blowing like a volcano.
“Fine. I’m in love with him. I’m completely in love with Ren. Besides Addie, he’s the only person I’ve ever been around who makes me feel normal, and he’s hilarious and weird and he has a gap between his front teeth that I love. But none of that matters because he has a girlfriend, and yesterday I must have had a momentary lapse in sanity, because I kissed him and it totally freaked him out. Also, his girlfriend looks straight out of a fashion magazine and whenever Ren sees me I’m either sweaty or crying. So now I’m dressing up and going to a party in hopes that I’ll get his attention long enough for him to at least talk to me, so I can tell him how I really feel and try to at least salvage our friendship. So there. That’s how I feel about Ren.”
Howard and Sonia both looked stunned.
I slumped back in my seat. “That’s why I need the perfect dress.”
It was quiet for a moment, and then Sonia turned to Howard. “Is money an object?”
“No.”
“Then turn left. I know where we need to go.”
Howard drove us straight to a dress shop near the center of the city, and after we’d parked, all three of us got out and ran the three blocks from the parking center. When we burst into the shop, the woman behind the counter looked up in alarm.
“Cos’è successo?”
“Stiamo cercando il vestito più bello nel mondo.” He turned to me. “She needs The Dress.”
The woman studied us for a moment, then clapped her hands. “Adalina! Sara! Venite qui.”
Two women emerged from the back room, and after going through the same exchange with Howard, they pulled out their tape measures and started measuring my waist and butt and bust and . . . yeah. It was pretty embarrassing.
Finally they started grabbing dresses from all over the store, then hustled me over to a dressing room and stuffed me and the dresses inside. I wriggled out of my running clothes and pulled the first one over my head. It was cotton-candy pink and reminded me of the time I’d thrown up on a Ferris wheel. The second one was yellow and feathery and looked suspiciously like Big Bird’s carcass. The third wasn’t terrible, but the straps were so big they hovered a full inch above my shoulders, and the party was tonight—I couldn’t just take it to a tailor for alterations. I looked at myself sternly in the mirror. Don’t panic. But my hair panicked anyway. Or maybe that was just how it always looked.
“How’s it going?” Sonia called from outside.
“Nothing yet.”
“Try this one.” She tossed another one over the door and I quickly changed into it. White and poofy. I looked exactly like a marshmallow. On her wedding day.
“Oh, no,” I wailed. “None of these are right. What if I can’t find it?”
“I brought you to this place for a reason. Let me see if the shopkeeper’s oldest daughter is around. She’s a dress genie. Be right back.”
I stepped up to the mirror and looked at myself again. Not only did I not look forgivable, but I looked ridiculous. There was no way I was going to win Ren back looking like something I roasted at Girl Scout camp.
“Lina?” Sonia knocked on the door. Then the door opened and she and another woman stepped in.
The woman was in her late thirties and had her hair pulled up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it. She looked like she meant business. She gestured for me to spin around.
“No. Tutto sbagliato.”
“D’accordo,” Sonia said. “She says this one is all wrong.”
“Will you ask her to find me one that’s all right?”
“Don’t worry. It’s what she’s good at. Let her work.”
The woman stepped forward, cupping my chin in her hands. She turned my face back and forth, studying my features, then stepped back and motioned for me to do another spin. Finally she nodded and held up her hand. “Ho il vestito perfetto. Wait.”
When she came back she was holding a pinkish-nude-colored dress with embellished lace all over the top and a short flowy skirt. I took it from her, holding it up in front of me.
“This one?” I asked.
“Yes. Thees one,” she said firmly. She stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
I took off the marshmallow dress and eased the new one over my head. The fabric was smooth and silky-feeling, and it slipped easily over my chest and hips, landing in the exact right spot.
I didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know that it was the one.
By the time Thomas pulled up in his dad’s car—a silver BMW convertible—I had managed to completely transform myself. Sonia had helped me style my hair so it fell in soft un-Medusa-ish curls, and had loaned me a pair of heels and diamond stud earrings. I’d put on makeup and perfume and had practiced my speech to Ren over and over. Ren, I have something to tell you. When I looked in the mirror I almost did a double take. I couldn’t believe how Italian I looked.
“He’s here,” Howard yelled from downstairs.
“Coming!” I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, then teetered down the stairs. Sonia’s high heels were really gorgeous but crazy high. I miraculously made it to the bottom of the stairs without performing any sort of involuntary gymnastics, and when I looked up, Howard was giving me this misty look.
“You look beautiful. I don’t care what Ren’s girlfriend looks like. She doesn’t stand a chance.”
“That would be nice. But I’ll be happy if he just talks to me again.”
“I’m betting on the former.”
There was a knock on the door and Howard crossed the room to open it. “Hello. Are you Thomas?”
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
I clattered over to the doorway.
“Woah! Lina, you look . . .” Thomas’s jaw literally dropped. But then he noticed Howard looking at him like he was a deer during hunting season and he quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry. Nice dress. You look really pretty.”
“You look nice too.” Gray fitted suit. Hair styled messily. I could practically hear Addie spontaneously combusting from here.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Ready.” I walked over and gave Howard a hug. “How long can I stay out?”
“As long as you want. Well, within reason.” He winked at me. “It’s going to work out.”
“Thanks.”
I followed Thomas out to his car and he opened the door fo
r me. “You really do look gorgeous.”
“Thanks.”
“What did your dad mean by ‘it’s going to work out’?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” I glanced at my phone for about the millionth time. All afternoon I’d been hoping Ren would call. And all afternoon he’d kept not calling.
Thomas got in the front seat and put the keys in the ignition. “Nice car, right?”
“Really nice.”
“My dad has a Lamborghini, too. He told me if I have a clean driving record for a year I can take it out sometime.”
“Too bad it’s not tonight.”
“I know, right?” He backed carefully out of the driveway, then took off down the road. “Did you know you have to be eighteen to drive a car in Italy? I think I’m the only one at our school who even has a license.”
“Ren will get one next year.”
“But he’s only a junior.”
“He’ll be eighteen in March.”
“Oh.” He pulled out onto the road and accelerated, turning up the music too loud to talk.
I’m sure riding through the Italian countryside in a luxury convertible with a young 007 should have been a magical experience, but it was lost on me. I was too busy mentally rehearsing what I was going to say to Ren. And trying to keep young 007’s hands off me.
“Valentina’s dad works with my dad, only he’s even higher up. I’ve been to lots of parties at their house and they’re always crazy. One year they did this big Japanese dinner and there were women lying on the serving tables. You had to eat your sushi off of them.”
“Ew. Really?”
“Yeah, it was awesome.” He slid his hand onto my bare knee—again—and I made a big show of rearranging my legs so he’d move his hand. Again. I looked at him and sighed. Any other girl would trade all the gelato in Florence for a chancing to be sitting in my spot. But they weren’t me. And they didn’t know Ren.
When we finally pulled up to the party, I was shocked. Not because the house looked like Dracula’s castle—of course it did—but because of how many people were there. Cars and cabs were all funneling into the driveway while throngs of ecstatic partygoers weaved their way toward the front door. It took us ten full minutes and three leg rearrangings just to wind our way up to the valet station.
When we got to the top Thomas threw his keys to the valet, then made a big show of helping me out of the car. A red carpet was draped on the big stone steps leading up to the entryway and tons of people were making their way inside. I’d been a little worried I’d be overdressed, but everyone looked like they were on their way to some kind of red-carpet premiere. This was definitely a The Dress occasion.
“This is way bigger than I thought it would be,” I said, grabbing Thomas’s arm before I could lose my balance on the stairs.
“Told you. It’s going to be awesome.”
“Do all of your friends live in houses like this?”
“Just the ones who throw parties.”
The entryway had a long, curving staircase and an extravagant chandelier made of colored glass. A man holding a big stack of papers stopped us.
“Name, please.” His accent was as thick as his biceps.
“Thomas Heath.” Thomas turned and grinned at me. “And my date.”
The man shuffled through his papers, marking Thomas’s name. “Benvenuti.”
“Do you mind if I check your list really quick?” I asked. “I’m wondering if my friend is here.”
“No.” He scowled at me, covering the list with his hand. “It is privato.”
It wasn’t like we were attending a party at the Pentagon or something. “I just need to look for one sec—”
“Come on.” Thomas grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the list and farther into the house. Everyone was sardine-ing themselves into this big, overly frilly room with high ceilings and like five more chandeliers, and we had to push our way in, tripping over all the fancy dresses and guys sweating into their jackets. All the furniture was moved to the outer edges of the room, and a makeshift stage had been set up in one corner. So far there was just a bunch of instruments up there, but music was playing from speakers around the room at a level that could kill small birds. It was so crowded. How was I going to find Ren?
“Lina! Thomas!” Elena emerged from the crowd, grabbing my arm. She was wearing a short gray dress and her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. “Wow. Lina, you look bella. This is the color for you.”
“Thanks, Elena. Have you seen Ren?”
“Ren? No. I don’t know if he’s even coming. Mimi would probably kill him.”
“Why?”
Thomas cracked up. “Guys, look. There’s Selma.” He pointed to a tall middle-aged woman who had climbed onto the stage and was fumbling around with cords. She was wearing a tiara and a hot-pink minidress that was about ten seconds from giving up on keeping her boobs covered.
“Ugh,” Elena said, shaking her head. “That is Valentina’s mom. She was a supermodel in the nineties, and she displays sexy pictures of herself around the house. I think I would rather die than see my mom’s cleavage on a daily basis.”
“Your mom’s bionic cleavage,” Thomas said. “We should try to get a good spot by the band. Valentina said they start playing at ten.”
Elena shook her head. “I’m waiting for Marco.”
“Marco, huh?”
Elena scowled at him. “Dai. I just told him I would. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Elena, if you see Ren, will you tell him I really need to talk to him?” I asked.
“Sure, no problem.” She glanced at Thomas, then leaned in. “Wow. Thomas looks incredibile.” She pronounced it the Italian way. “Good choice. He is troppo sexy. I’m pretty sure every girl who’s met him has tried for him. I guess you are the lucky one. It sucks that Ren broke up with Mimi for you, but I totally understand why you are here with Thomas.”
Eight hundred exclamation marks went off in my head. “Ren broke up with Mimi? When? Today?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe yesterday? Mimi said she was glad, though. No offense, but Ren can be very strange. He always says whatever pops into his head.”
“Yeah, but that’s what’s so great about him.”
She slid her eyes at Thomas. “Yeah, I guess so. See you later. I’m going out front.”
“Bye. Just tell Ren where I am if you see him, okay?”
“You okay?” Thomas asked when Elena had left.
“Yeah, sure.” Maybe better than okay. Ren had broken up with Mimi for me? Then what was all that in Rome? The urgency of my Find Ren mission had pretty much hit the roof.
“Let’s get a drink and go over by the stage,” Thomas said.
“Sure.”
The next couple of hours were incredibly slow. The band was Spanish, and after every couple of sets the drummer got carried away and threw his drumsticks into the crowd, where they had to be fished out again before they could start playing the next song.
Thomas kept disappearing for more and more drinks and Ren kept not showing up. Where was he? What if he didn’t show up? Was this whole The Dress thing actually a curse? If so, I would have come in running clothes.
Finally I excused myself. “Thomas, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a while.”
He gave me an unfocused thumbs-up and I pushed myself through the crowd, doing a quick scan of the party. As far as I could tell, Ren wasn’t in the main room. And he wasn’t on the front steps or in the entryway, either. Where was he? Finally I decided to actually use the bathroom, but there was a long line, and I kept my neck craned to watch for Ren.
When it was my turn I locked the door behind me, then looked in the mirror and sighed. My dress still looked great, but I was sweaty and I could tell my hair was plotting a mutiny. I pulled it back into a ponytail, then checked my phone again. Nothing. Where was he?
Thomas was waiting for me outside the door. “There you are. We have to hur
ry. Everyone’s supposed to go outside. There’s a big surprise.”
I gave up on my shoes, taking them off and carrying them as we moved with the crowds toward the back doors. When we finally stepped outside I sucked in my breath. The yard was the size of a football field, and dozens of large white blankets checkered the ground, their edges lit with tea lights. It was nauseatingly romantic. Half the people out there were going to get carried away and start professing their undying love to each other.
“Thomas, you didn’t see Ren while I was in the bathroom, did you?”
“No, no, no.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Let’s make a pact. No more talking about Ren. I just want to talk about you.” He grinned. “And me. Now come on.”
He pulled me forward, and I stumbled a little as we made our way across the grass.
“Where are we going?”
“I told you, it’s a surprise.”
We walked all the way to an empty blanket on the outskirts of the yard and Thomas sat down, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket. His shirt and hair were rumpled and I wished for about the thousandth time that Addie were here to enjoy all this hotness. It was totally wasted on me.
“Now lie down,” he said.
“What?”
“Lie down.” He patted the blanket.
“Thomas . . .”
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything. Just lie down for a second. I promise I’ll stay right here.”
I looked at him for a moment, then lay down on the blanket, smoothing my dress around me. “Now what?”
“Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open them.”
I looked at him, then exhaled, half closing my eyes. Did he have to be this gorgeous? It was really complicating my life.
He started counting down slowly. “Twenty . . . nineteen . . . eighteen . . .” By the time he got to “one” I’d been lying there for half a century, and I opened my eyes to the sound of a collective cheer going up from the lawn.
All around us, white paper lanterns lit by candles were rising into the air. There were hundreds of them.
Thomas grinned at my stunned expression. “Valentina told me they were doing this. Cool, right?”
Love & Gelato Page 23