by Fiona Grace
Sabina took over, pouring a glass for herself and for Audrey, a half-glass for Vito. Vito took a single gulp and finished the whole glass. He said, “I told you, you’re going to be famous if you hang around here for long.”
She took a sip of her own wine and grabbed a slice of warm bread from the table. Taking a bite, she said, “I don’t understand. Isn’t there a veterinarian on the island that people can take their pets to? I thought you said there was?”
Sabina nodded. “Oh, there is. Dottore Luciano Mauro.” She looked over at Vito, who was shaking his head and grimacing. “He’s—how shall I say this? A—”
“An idiot,” Vito filled in, the smile on his face indicating he was only too happy to contribute the fact.
In shock, Sabina nudged him. “That’s not nice!”
“It’s true,” he grumbled. “It’s a wonder we have a stray problem here, considering he’s probably killed half the pet population with his bad advice.”
Sabina leaned in and patted his hand. “Vito. Pepe was just old. She was seventeen!”
Vito gave her a doubtful look. “Pepe was fine. She could’ve lived another couple of years at least. And he insisted on putting her down.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”
Sabina sighed and turned to Audrey. “Poor thing. Pepe was his first true friend when he moved here. Vito had a hard time adjusting. They went through a lot together. After Dottore Mauro got through with Pepe, Vito has never trusted the man.”
“Still don’t,” he mumbled, grabbing for the bottle of wine. Sabina started to put a hand on his, to stop him, but then shrugged and let him pour himself a full glass.
The waiter came back and asked for their orders. Audrey said, “Pasta alla Strombolana.”
Vito mumbled, “Your funeral,” and then looked up at the waiter. “Spaghetti.”
Audrey looked over at him and whispered, “What’s wrong with what I ordered?”
He shrugged. “They sucker everyone into trying it when they first come on the island. It’s super salty and weird. I had it when I was eleven and I still have nightmares.”
She laughed. “Well, I’m here in Italy to try new things. So I guess I’ll just try to stomach it.” When the waiter finished taking Sabina’s order and left, Audrey said to both of them, “I’m sorry this vet is such a problem. That’s a shame.”
Sabina nodded. “He’s not quite the horror show Vito is making him out to be, but I’ll admit he does not have the best reputation. There are cases of him misdiagnosing pets, treating them badly. His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, and—”
“Not to mention his clinic is a craphole,” Vito added bluntly.
Audrey swung her gaze to Vito. “It is? Where is it?”
“Oh, yeah. It makes our shelter look like a royal palace. It’s down the street. You should take a look at it,” he said, taking a piece of bread and dipping it in the oil with balsamic vinegar and rosemary. “But not on a full stomach because you’ll probably want to retch.”
Audrey looked at Sabina. “Well, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not all,” she said, shaking her head.
“There’s more?”
“Let’s just say that there are certain rumors about him.”
“Rumors?” Audrey leaned forward, intrigued. Whatever it was, it was clearly even worse than the other things they’d just spoken of. What rumors could be worse than him misdiagnosing and maltreating animals? Audrey couldn’t imagine.
“Yes. I’ll leave it at that,” Sabina said, giving Vito eye-daggers that were impossible to miss. She’d also gone to kick him under the table. The only reason Audrey knew that was because she’d kicked Audrey instead. Wincing, she looked at the blunt teenager, hoping he’d say what his grandmother was clearly too polite to say.
But he didn’t. Instead, he simply raised his eyebrows mysteriously and smirked.
Before she could ask him what that meant, the food came. She looked down at her dish—thick coils of homemade pasta, bits of olives and tomatoes, all in a creamy sauce. It looked and smelled heavenly.
She eagerly dipped her fork in, picked up one of the white, viscous things, and took a deep breath. It was salty, and a little sweet, like the sea. A bit like oysters. She tried another, with a bit of the pasta, and it practically melted in her mouth. She let out a little involuntary “Mmm.”
“I thought you said this was terrible,” she whispered to Vito. “It’s delicious!”
He laughed. “You don’t let anyone tell you anything, do you? That’s good. You’ll probably need it here, with the doctor. Because he’s like that, too. Stubborn.”
She leaned in. “What are these terrible rumors about him?” she whispered to him.
He glanced at Sabina, then back at her, then made like he was zipping his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure someone like you will be able to find out eventually.” His grin widened. “Because I can already tell. You and he are not going to get along.”
Audrey blinked. Was he really that bad? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out, but she had a feeling that eventually, whether she wanted to or not, she was going to.
They finished their meals, and, relaxed and rejuvenated, Audrey clapped her hands. “I think we have a lot of work to do,” she said, finishing her wine. “What do you say we get back to it?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Ouch!” Audrey shouted as a particularly feral black cat scratched her palm. She stared at the blood running down her hand, and yawned.
Then she went to the sink and ran the injury under the faucet. Covering it in a paper towel, she let Sabina bandage it as she looked around at all the faces of the animals, peeking out from the cages.
One hundred and seventy-six cats.
That’s how many cats were at Sabina’s shelter. Audrey and Sabina had completed the count shortly after eight PM that evening, and that was the latest tally. Then she’d set to giving each one a thorough check-up, determining any treatment needed, and making sure it had its necessary medicine. Vito assisted, while Sabina went through the shelter, cleaning up as much as possible.
At least she had a nice, full stomach.
By nine, they were all dragging, but Sabina was the worst. Vito said, “Nonna. You’re tired.”
“I’m fine!” the fiery old woman said, waving him away. “I have so much to do.”
“Oh, you’ve done so much,” Audrey said. “You should go rest.”
“Yeah, Nonna. Go up to bed. I’ll finish up here with Dr. Smart,” Vito said. “We won’t be much longer.”
Audrey smiled at him. “Please. Just call me Audrey. Both of you.”
Sabina came over to her and gave her a big hug. “You are so wonderful. We are so happy to have you here. I know I have said it so many times,” she said, cupping her face in her hands, “but I want you to know how much we appreciate you.”
“Thank you. But I’m happy to help. This is what I love to do.”
Sabina shuffled off to her apartment upstairs, and Audrey yawned and turned her attention to tackling the tenth cat of the night. It was going to be a long slog, for sure. Coffee would’ve helped, but she couldn’t get the thought of that cat-hair coffee out of her mind, so she stifled her next yawn and set to it.
She weighed it, then cradled the wriggling little cat on the examination table, checking its eyes and ears, feeling for any internal injuries, making sure its mouth and paws were healthy and unblemished. All looked normal.
“This one’s fine,” she said, handing the gray one back to Vito.
He lifted him up and stared into his eyes. “He’s cute. I’m gonna call him Spike.” He put him in his cage and started to fill out an information card for him.
“Sounds good,” Audrey murmured, already reaching for the next one, a tan, older female who’d definitely had a litter or two before. She wondered how many cats in this shelter were hers as she set her on the scale to get her weight. Marking it down in her log book, she said, “So when was the last tim
e this other vet, this Dr. Mauro, was up here?”
“A month ago.”
“Really? And he never suggested that Sabina cage the animals?”
He laughed bitterly. “Making a suggestion like that would imply that he cares. And he doesn’t.” He shook his head. “He neutered a couple of animals and then billed her a crazy amount of money for it. He’s worthless. But he thinks he’s hot stuff.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s a big blowhard.”
Vito’s face was twisted in distaste. Audrey could almost feel his hate for the man, radiating off of him. No wonder he’d been so negative when she first met him. “I’m sorry he’s been so terrible to you and your grandmother.”
He shrugged. “I can deal with him. My grandmother can’t, though. She’s too nice. And he took advantage of that. He needs to take a long walk off a short pier, if you ask me.” He paused, and the next time he spoke, he was quieter. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here. We all are. I wish you could be here permanently.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry. I wish I could.” She looked around. “I guess I’d better call it a night and get to my hotel. Can you take me?”
“Which hotel?”
“The Hotel Lipari.”
He nodded and grabbed his keys. “Whenever you’re ready.”
They walked together out to his car, and she sat in the passenger seat and braced herself for the wild ride. As they drove, she thought about what Vito had said. She hated leaving any animals in need. It was a shame that this vet didn’t feel the same way. “I know I can’t stay here permanently,” she said to Vito. “But maybe I could give your vet some pointers?”
He snorted as he took a downhill bump so fast that they caught air, and bounced so hard the top of her head grazed the roof of the car. “Like he’d take them. I don’t think he’d listen to anyone. Especially someone younger than him.”
She gripped the armrest for dear life. “You never know. I can try. He might just surprise you, like that dinner tonight surprised me. I thought it was going to be awful.”
He shook his head. “Trust me. Dr. Mauro is awful. The only way he’d change is if he was dead.”
*
Audrey climbed the stairs to her hotel room in the Hotel Lipari on aching feet. When she opened the door, her first instinct was to collapse on the bed and never wake up.
But she was covered in cat hair, and she knew she’d probably have a hard time falling asleep once she got into bed. She always had trouble on a new bed, in a strange place. The room was small but well-appointed, and had an enormous claw-foot tub. She planned to make good use of that. She walked through the room and smiled. Very charming.
Yawning, she went to the window and threw back the drapes. There was a gorgeous view of the harbor, the dimly lit pier, and the sea glimmering in the moonlight. In the far distance, the twinkling lights of the town of Messina pressed against the hulking silhouette of Mt. Etna.
She found the crank on the window and opened it, taking in the cool sea air, letting it fill her lungs. Nowhere in America could she see anything so beautiful. She stood there, listening to the waves lapping at the shore, and decided that yes. Even with all the trials she’d had, coming all this way from Boston had been worth it, even just for a sight like this.
Then she kicked off her shoes, went to the bathroom, and ran herself a nice bath.
As the water filled the giant tub, she checked her texts. Nothing from Concetta. She had one from Brina, a picture of her young nieces snuggling together on a couch. She wished she could be there to give them a hug.
That was one thing she missed most of all . . . family. Mason had at least gotten his mom to visit. And . . . his girlfriend? But no one had visited Audrey yet. Having no family at all in this hemisphere made her feel lonelier.
Well, she did have one person . . . maybe . . .
She stripped off her clothes and slid into the warm water, thinking of her father. He was a general contractor in Boston. She’d been his right-hand woman right up until her early teens, always accompanying to his renovations of Back Bay mansions.
Then, suddenly, he was gone. No phone calls, no letters, nothing. It was like he’d vanished into thin air. No, it was even more than that. Her mother never spoke of him. It was as if he had never existed at all.
But from her dreams, she’d had an inkling of where she might find him, if ever she got up the nerve to look.
Montagnanera. It meant Black Mountains. He’d kept a postcard of it, and had wanted to travel there one day. It wasn’t far away, in the north of Italy, on the Mediterranean Sea. She’d seen pictures of it, with whimsical, brightly colored buildings in the warm sun, cobblestone streets, quaint cafes.
She’d never been this close to that place. She could go there, one day. Soon.
But her life was busy. There was so much to do, here and in Mussomeli.
Of course, that was just an excuse. Really, she was afraid of what she might find. Or what she might not find. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if when he left her, all those years ago, it was on purpose, because he didn’t want to talk to her ever again?
She dunked her head, took the sweet-smelling shampoo from the corner of the tub, and lathered up her hair. As she did, she forced herself from thoughts of her father and concentrated on her to-do list for the following day:
Morning house call to the sick puppy of the waiter at Pietro’s.
Visiting the shelter and giving check-ups to the remaining animals.
Neutering any males that have been caught.
Catching additional stray males to neuter.
Yes, it would be a long day. Not only that, but she’d have to meet up with the other veterinarian, eventually, to see how she could help him.
As she washed the suds from her hair, she thought about what Vito had said about Dr. Mauro. Was he really that bad, or was Vito just teasing her, like he’d done with the pasta? She had to wonder. Trust me. Dr. Mauro is awful. The only way he’d change is if he was dead.
When she opened her eyes, Nick was sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at her curiously. “So, what do you think, bub?” she asked him. “Do you think Dr. Mauro is as bad as they say?”
He merely looked at the soapy water with a hint of disgust. She flicked a little water at him, and he scampered off, yelping. She climbed out of bed and sighed when she saw the time on her phone. It was almost midnight. “I think we’d better get to bed.”
She had a feeling that tomorrow, she’d have her work cut out for her.
CHAPTER NINE
The following morning, Audrey set out bright and early. The GPS on her phone told her that the waiter’s apartment was only a couple of blocks from the Hotel Lipari, so she walked outside, enjoying the cool morning air. Seagulls squawked above and locals called Buongiorno to her as she walked. Nick stayed close by, weaving in and out of the many bicycles parked on the sidewalk. Occasionally, he’d stop to sniff something interesting, then quickly scamper to keep up with her.
As she was walking, a car beeped next to her. She looked over and saw Vito, leaning over from the driver’s side.
“Hey,” he said. “I thought you’d be up early! Nonna said to come down and see if you needed a ride to the shelter.”
“I do,” she said. “But first I need to pay a house call to this person. Our waiter, remember?”
“Right,” he said, flipping the locks on the old car. “I’ll take you. Hop in.”
She winced. They’d nearly gone off a cliff the last time. She’d need a ride up to the shelter later, since that was an uphill mile, but for this, she preferred to keep her feet on the ground. “I don’t think it’s very far . . .”
“Suit yourself.” He jerked the car into drive and screeched off.
She came to a small townhome with a peeling blue front and checked the address. Dodici via la Rada. “This is it. Apartment A,” she said to Nick, climbing the front step.
As she did, someone came up behind her. S
he whirled to find Vito. He grinned.
She gave him a confused look. “You’re coming with me?”
He nodded. “Marco doesn’t speak English. You don’t speak Italian. You need me.”
“Oh.” He was right. She hadn’t realized he’d even spoken Italian, because everything he’d said to her so far had been in English, but it made sense that he knew the language. Yes, he could be helpful to her. “All right. Thanks. Come on.”
She knocked on the door.
The waiter who had served them last night opened the door immediately. His eyes widened with delight. “Dottore!”
“Ciao, Marco. Posso . . . vedere . . . il tuo . . . cane?” she spit out with some difficulty. Marco winced, so she looked at Vito, who shrugged. “I came to check on your dog? Cane?”
“Grazie!” He took her hands in both of his and dragged her inside to a small, dark apartment, with dark paneled walls and seventies decor. As he brought her down the hallway, she looked around and saw crosses and religious relics all over the walls. A television played at a low volume somewhere. The hallway opened up to reveal a larger room with an overstuffed couch. Lying atop the couch was one of the biggest Mastiffs she’d ever seen.
And it was definitely no puppy.
“What’s his name?” she said, dropping her first aid kit and kneeling in front of him.
Vito did the translation. “Fabio.”
“What seems to be the problem with you, Fabio?” she asked the poor animal in her sweet, baby voice, lifting his paw. He gave her his sad puppy eyes as Vito did the translation.
Vito said, “He thinks it’s mange.”
“Mange? Who told him that?” she said, checking his skin. Sure, his fur was uneven and patchy in places, but his gums weren’t healthy and his eyes were glassy. This was something completely different, the classic signs of a malnourished pup.
“Why, it’s not?” Vito asked.
She shook her head. “Not at all. Not even close. What has he been eating?”
Vito translated to Marco, who responded. Marco brought out a brand of kibble that Audrey had never seen before. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the good stuff. The poor pup definitely needed a new diet right away.