Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

  “Wait.” Anna caught Sarah’s wrist. “What about the papers?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll figure them out later.”

  Anna turned down her mouth. “I don’t think so. Get on the phone.” She stood. “Now.”

  Sarah stepped back. “I don’t know, Anna.”

  “He’s bluffing.” Anna snatched Sarah’s purse and rifled the contents. “He knows you’re here, short on money, and desperate for this divorce to be over.” She pulled out Sarah’s phone.

  Sarah took a long look at Anna. A nervous energy tingled in her fingers, and she seized the phone from Anna’s outstretched hand.

  “Call the bluff,” Anna said. “Counter.”

  Inhaling deeply, Sarah pulled up her attorney’s number. Was she really taking the advice of a twenty-three-year-old whose longest relationship lasted six weeks?

  “What are you waiting for?” Anna scrunched her eyes and placed hands on her hips.

  “Um, I…” Sarah’s pulse quickened, but she pressed the green button. Please go to voicemail.

  “Judy French.”

  “Oh, uh, hi, Judy. Sarah Miller. I’ve, um, I’ve decided I’d like to counter.” Her heart thudded in her chest.

  Anna flashed a reassuring smile.

  “Great. What are the terms?”

  “Terms? Oh, fifty-fifty.”

  “What?” Anna opened her eyes wide, and she grabbed Sarah’s arm. “No! Sixty-five, thirty-five.”

  “Wait”—her voice quavered—“I mean sixty-five, thirty-five.”

  “And he pays lawyer fees,” Anna said.

  Sarah repeated the words to Judy.

  “All right,” Judy said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear.”

  “Thanks.” Sarah hung up. Had she really one-upped Philip?

  Anna grinned.

  “I can’t believe I just did that.” Sarah released a tight laugh.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  With a smile, Sarah wrapped her arms around her waist, a glow blossoming inside. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

  “Al Forno’s?” Anna lifted her chin.

  The glow morphed into tiny bursts of energy pulsating through Sarah’s chest, her arms, her fingers. She blinked and refocused on Anna, whose eyebrow was spiked up in question.

  Sarah smiled. “Spaghetti alla carbonara?”

  “You know it.” Anna linked elbows with Sarah. “You going for the caprese salad?”

  Sarah closed her eyes and imagined the scent of fresh mozzarella, thick slices of tomato with basil, and tangy balsamic vinegar. Her stomach rumbled. “As always,” she replied. She followed Anna out the door. “And you know what? Tonight, I’m definitely saving room for dessert.”

  “Ooh. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Sarah grinned and nodded.

  “Gelato!” Anna said.

  “Gelato!” Sarah said in unison. She grabbed Anna’s elbow and dashed to the restaurant.

  For the next few days, Sarah kept her phone with her at all times: on vibrate, shoved in her pocket during lessons or ringer on high, delicately placed on the edge of the sink during showers. But by Thursday’s play rehearsal, she still hadn’t heard from Judy.

  Sarah finished sketching the forefront of the panels—an outline of the buildings. The scale seemed right, but something was off—the image didn’t match the sketch in her book. She chewed the back of her pencil and stepped back. Why did the panels look so strange?

  “Signorina Miller,” said a voice behind her.

  Spinning, Sarah found Mr. Moretti standing before her. He stared at the backdrop.

  She dropped her sketchbook and stumbled back, nearly tumbling into the panels. She caught the edge of one with her hand and balanced herself. “Buongiorno.” She gave a tight smile.

  With a curt nod, he approached the panels, rambling in his nasal Italian.

  What was he saying? Order? Arrangement? She shook her head.

  He frowned then continued with more grandiose gestures. He pointed first to the joint between the panels and then to her sketchbook on the floor.

  “Oh, capisco!” She drew the blueprint for the right panel on the center one. How could she have been so distracted?

  He squeezed out a wry smile, accentuating his pudgy cheeks. His eye twitched before a scowl settled on his face. In a swift motion, he bent down and unlocked the casters on the base and reversed the panels.

  “Grazie,” Sarah said.

  He nodded then disappeared behind the curtain.

  Sarah surveyed the three panels. The scene took shape. And Mr. Moretti wasn’t upset. At least—no more than he usually was. She could cross out pissing off Mr. Moretti from her list of worries—well, for the time being. She made her way onto the stage.

  Near the curtain, students rehearsed with Anna, Lucia among them.

  Sarah planted herself behind Lucia.

  Lucia flipped the page of her script, revealing the highlighted text.

  Only a few lines remained before Lucia’s. Sarah tensed. Would Lucia be okay? She’d only practiced with her once.

  As she clutched the script, Lucia tapped her light-up sneakers.

  Sarah took a step forward and patted Lucia’s shoulder. “I’ll read with you,” she whispered in her ear. Lucia’s shoulder relaxed under Sarah’s hand.

  “Thank you.”

  When the time arrived, Sarah read the line loud enough to cover Lucia’s shaky voice.

  Anna raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry,” Sarah mouthed silently.

  As the words left her mouth, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Without bothering to excuse herself, she rushed off the stage, pressing the green icon as she barreled through the auditorium doors. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Judy? Is that you?” She wrung her skirt with her free hand.

  “Buonagiorno, Signorina Miller!” a computer-generated voice said.

  What? Telemarketers worked here, too? Sarah ended the call with an assertive thumb-click. She dropped her skirt from her hand and frowned. Would Judy ever call? Would this marriage ever be over?

  Sarah returned to the auditorium, kicking open the door with her heel. Rehearsal had apparently wrapped up, as the children gathered their belongings and joined their waiting parents—all except for Lucia. She stood with someone Sarah had never seen before—a man about Eduardo’s age, maybe slightly older, with slicked back hair and a goatee. Lucia cowered by the man’s side. Sarah’s senses rose to high-alert. As she started across to them, she narrowed her gaze, pursed her lips, and squared her shoulders. He’d need to show identification, hell maybe even provide fingerprints, before she’d let Lucia leave with him.

  “I’d stay away from that one,” Anna said.

  “Why?” Sarah spun. “Who is he?”

  “Remember our conversation about dads and their gestures? Lucia’s dad likes to communicate with his hands.”

  His hands? Oh, hell no. Sarah took a step in Lucia’s direction then stopped. “Wait—Lucia’s dad? He’s not Lucia’s father.” She searched Anna’s face for an explanation.

  Anna raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

  Did she have to be such a know-it-all? Sarah peeked over her shoulder; Lucia reached the man. Sarah’s pulse soared. She turned back to Anna and huffed.

  “No,” Anna said. “He’s her stepfather.”

  Stepfather? Sarah gasped. Then Eduardo wasn’t Roberta’s husband. She slumped her shoulders. What had she done?

  Chapter 12

  Montgomery, Alabama. Juneau, Alaska. Phoenix, Arizona.

  Sarah stared into the darkness. Was this the second or third time she’d recited the capitals? She pulled up the comforter, snuggled it under her chin, and forced herself not to check the clock.

  Little Rock, Arkansas. Sacramento, California. Denver, Colorado.

  She closed her eyes. Why wasn’t Dad’s trick working tonight? It always worked—except, apparently, when Eduardo’s warm eyes, his mellow
baritone, and his toned stature occupied her thoughts. She drove her foot into the mattress. God, she was stupid! How had she mistaken Eduardo and Roberta as a married couple? Judging by the way Roberta ranted at him, the pair wasn’t likely to spend much time in the same room, let alone share a house together. She sighed. Perhaps if she worked more on her Italian, she wouldn’t have been so confused.

  From her bed, she eyed the wrinkled business card. Why had she ignored him at pick-up? Now, he probably thought she was moodier than a pubescent teen. She squeezed shut her eyes.

  Hartford, Connecticut. Dover, Delaware. Tallahassee, Florida.

  A girly giggle resonated through the walls. Sarah checked the time, eleven thirty. With a groan, she crawled out of bed and grabbed her robe. Undoubtably, Flora was the offender; she was notorious for breaking curfew, especially on Sarah’s watch. Probably did on Anna’s watch, too, but Anna wasn’t a stickler for rules. And Anna didn’t have Sister Maria on her back.

  Sarah dragged herself to the second floor and followed the laughter to the room of two upper-school students. She knocked lightly on the door then used her key to open it.

  Inside, Flora twirled in a skin-tight dress.

  On the bed, Natalia sat with knees tucked beneath her, her eyes bright.

  “Girls, I called lights out at ten.”

  “Bene,” Flora grumbled, coming to a stop. She hopped onto the bed and picked up two pairs of tights. “Which one do you think, Ms. Miller? Black or blue?”

  Sarah frowned. “I said lights out.”

  “But Ms. Miller,” Natalia chimed in, “Flora has a date.”

  Sarah folded her arms over her chest. “Not on my watch she doesn’t.”

  “Not tonight.” Flora laid the tights against her red dress. “Tomorrow.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow then frowned. Even students at an all-girls school knew how to get a date. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed. But just before it clicked shut, she poked her head back in and gave Flora a once-over. “The black.” She smiled and closed the door. Flora had better hope Sister Maria didn’t catch wind of—

  At the end of the hall, Sister Maria stood. A glare etched into the nun’s gray eyes.

  Sarah froze. “Sister, I mean, Suor Maria…Flora… sentire.” She couldn’t string together the words. She puffed her bangs from her eyes and stepped forward, starting again in English. “Flora and Natalia were, you know, being girls. But I took care of them.”

  With a straight face, Sister Maria nodded. “I saw the light from my room. Did you assign them detention?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Just a warning.” Does that statement count as lying?

  Sister Maria turned toward the stairs.

  With Sister Maria’s back to her, Sarah silently crossed herself. Couldn’t hurt. She scrambled to catch up.

  “Quiet evening.” Sister Maria fixed her gaze straight ahead. “Will you turn in soon?”

  Faltering, she missed a step. She steadied herself with the banister. Was Sister Maria referring to her late-night—or rather, all-night-long—adventure with Anna? Sister Maria’s words were burned into her memory. I had hoped you would be a positive influence on Miss Franklin. Sarah’s cheeks burned. “Yes, I will,” she answered.

  “I don’t mean to imply you shouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Sister Maria continued. “Perhaps just not to the extent Anna does.”

  Sarah let her gaze drift to the chandelier. Rows of crystals bounced light over the sweeping, spiral staircase. I bet the theatres in Rome have even more grandiose décor. “I would like to see the orchestra or opera or attend an evening art exhibit. I just…” She bit her lip as she let her voice trail off. Why was she telling this to her boss?

  At bottom of the stairs Sister Maria placed a hand on her shoulder. “Time is needed to make friends in a new place.”

  “Yes, it is.” Sarah started toward her room.

  “I’d be happy to introduce you to some of the other teachers—or even some students’ parents.”

  Sarah paused, her teeth finding the inside of her lip; she didn’t turn back. Did Sister Maria know about Eduardo? Perhaps she’d caught Sarah staring like a schoolgirl? She didn’t relish the thought. She also didn’t relish Sister Maria’s help in that area. If Eduardo already thought she was moody, how would enlisting the help of Sister Maria make her look? Like a nutjob? She released the grip on her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you, but I can manage.”

  After saying goodnight to Sister Maria, Sarah returned to her room. Her back pressed against the door, she stared at Eduardo’s business card. A shiver tingled her spine. Sister Maria’s assessment couldn’t have been more dead-on. She should enjoy herself. She should make new friends. And…she should go out—maybe, even with Eduardo.

  Sarah smiled and rushed to her bed, eager for sleep and eager for a new day. Because tomorrow, she planned for all of those things to happen.

  ****

  The next morning, Sarah stood by the curb at drop-off, greeting the students as they exited their vehicles. Frowning, she picked a lint ball from her nicest twin-set; the pilling was compliments of the coin laundry on the corner. If only she owned a wardrobe like Anna’s, or even Flora’s—not that she could fit into either of their clothes. Well, maybe she could fit in Flora’s clothes, but not Anna’s toddler-sized get-ups. She sipped her third cup of Earl Grey tea. If she had many more nights like the previous one, she’d need to start taping up her eyelids.

  She spotted a dark car with Lucia in the passenger seat. She pinched her cheeks and rubbed her lip-glossed lips. Her heart thudded in her chest. Get a hold of yourself, Sarah. You’re a grown—

  The approaching car wasn’t a Mercedes, but an Alfa Romeo. And the driver wasn’t Eduardo. He was Lucia’s stepfather.

  Sighing, Sarah took a step back.

  Lucia rolled down her window. “Ms. Miller! Ms. Miller!”

  So much for retreating.

  The car stopped.

  “Good morning, Ms. Miller.” Lucia climbed out of the car.

  “Good morning, Lucia.” Sarah helped her from the car. She pressed a hand onto Lucia’s backpack, slammed the car door, and started toward the building.

  “Buongiorno,” a voice called out behind her.

  Sarah stiffened but forced herself to turn.

  Lucia’s stepfather leaned across the passenger seat. “Mi chiamo Leonardo de Luca.” He drawled through the rolled-down window.

  “Ms. Miller. Lucia’s English teacher.” Please let him not understand English.

  “I’m Lucia’s stepfather,” he said in thickly accented English.

  Today is not my day. “Nice to meet you.” Sarah’s phone vibrated, and she yanked it out as she backed away from the car. Who in the world called at this hour? Mom. Oh, hell. She turned back to Mr. De Luca.

  His gaze swept over her body.

  A flush rushed her chest. Dear God, was he appraising her? She gave a curt nod, turned, and answered the phone. “Mom? What’s wrong?” Behind Sarah, the Alfa Romeo revved.

  “Sweetheart, I’ve got the best news!”

  Sarah checked her watch and did the calculation. “At two in the morning?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was online, and guess what?”

  “Make it quick, Mom. My class starts in five minutes.”

  “I just landed the most fabulous deal on a hotel, and it’s only two blocks from your school.”

  Sarah’s stomach dropped. “Mom, that place is a hostel. You have to share a bathroom.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll just use yours.”

  Mine? Did people in their thirties have strokes, because she felt like she was about to have one.

  “And I’ve been meaning to ask,” her mom continued, “did the divorce papers come?”

  Definitely a candidate for a stroke. “Uh, no. Haven’t heard anything.” The crosses hanging at the entry of the school judged her. At least truthfulness wasn’t a commandment. Respecting one’s parents, on the other
hand… Sarah swallowed hard. “I’ve got to go, Mom. Love you.”

  Yep, definitely not my day.

  ****

  As the day wore on, Sarah’s interest in seeing Eduardo waned again. How had she considered dating so soon? She hadn’t even heard back from Judy—and if the news wasn’t good, then she’d really be in for an awkward conversation with her mother…and Meredith. Neither knew of the divorce dispute yet.

  As Sarah paced the rows in her classroom, she collected vocabulary quizzes from the primo tres students. At least she’d have something to keep her busy over the weekend. Would Philip’s reply really drag on until next week? Could she survive two more days of waiting?

  She scanned the papers as the students placed them on her desk. Lucia’s was definitely a hundred. But Cira’s? Sarah sighed. Did Mr. Moretti not encourage the child to study? She shoved the paper to the bottom of the stack—always best to grade the worst papers last. “Ten minutes left. Please take out your book and spend the rest of class reading.”

  The students pulled out their copies of Charlotte’s Web. Most flipped to the middle of the book. Some, like Cira, were still on the third chapter. Only Lucia didn’t read Charlotte’s Web at all. Leaning forward on her elbows, Lucia was engrossed in The Phantom Tollbooth.

  With a furrowed brow, Sarah walked over, knelt, and lowered her voice. “Lucia, where is your assigned book?”

  Lucia scarcely pulled her gaze from the book. “I finished it. I asked my dad to get me this one.” Her gaze locked on the page, she gave a head nod to the bulletin board. “I saw it on the board.”

  “Well, that book’s for primo quattro, but I’m sure you can manage.” Sarah smiled.

  Lucia looked up at Sarah then, wearing a wide smile.

  Sarah bent closer. “If you think it’s okay, why don’t you stay after to practice your line? Will your ride mind?”

  Lucia’s smile broadened, and she shook her head. “That would be great.” A few minutes later, when the students departed from the room, Lucia stayed back.

  Sarah took a seat atop a student desk.

  “You can put down the script, Lucia. I know you have it memorized.”

  Lucia lowered the script, which blocked her face. All trace of a smile was wiped from her face.