Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

  “Good.” Sarah stared Lucia in the eye. “Now, I’ll tell you a trick. Instead of looking me dead on, stare at my forehead.” She pressed a finger to the center of her forehead.

  At the front of the classroom, Lucia’s gaze tracked upward.

  “Excellent. To the audience, you appear to stare them in the eye, when you’re not.”

  Lucia’s brow line softened.

  “Now, say your line.”

  Lucia’s voice lowered to a whisper, her words indecipherable.

  Sarah let a smile consume her face anyway. “Excellent!” She clapped. “Now say it loud—” Sarah’s phone buzzed on her desk. She jumped up and grabbed it. Judy. Her breath caught, and she turned to Lucia. “I’m sorry, Lucia, but I have to take this call.”

  Her fingers shook—no, her whole body. She barely heard the faint thud of the door closing as Lucia left. She pressed the green button. “H-hi, Judy.” The shakiness caused her to stutter.

  “Good afternoon, Sarah. I’ve just heard from Philip’s attorney.”

  “Yes?”

  “The news isn’t great, but he’s reverted back to the original agreement, except…”

  Jitteriness gave way to tightness. Sarah clenched her fists. Except I have to pay his lawyer fees? Except now he’s requesting alimony payments? Except Philip Flynn always has the last word?

  “…except he pays your lawyer fees.”

  Sarah nearly dropped the phone. “Come again?”

  “I said, he agreed to pay my fees.”

  “Really?” She giggled the word.

  “Yes, really.”

  After a celebratory dance around her classroom, Sarah rushed to the school entrance. Students gathered on the staircase and the sidewalk. Sarah elbowed past backpacks and pushed through a pair of giggling upper school girls until she found Anna.

  “Anna! Anna!” She yanked on her friend’s hand. “He took it. He took the deal! Well, not the whole deal, but almost.” The story spilled out faster than Mr. Moretti could spew Italian. After she’d shared all details, Sarah sucked in the tepid autumn air, and her insides tingled with electricity. With a scrunched brow and open mouth, Anna looked like her head might start to spin. Then she broke into a smile—a genuine one. Not her usual smartass, I-told-you-so grin.

  “That’s so great!” Anna embraced her. “I knew it. We should celebrate, gelato, prosecco, the works. But—”A horn blared, and Anna glanced in the direction of the car. “But not tonight.”

  The jolt inside Sarah lost some of its energy. “That’s right. Your weekend with Juan.”

  Anna picked up her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Bad timing. We’ll celebrate Tuesday, when I’m back. I promise.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Sarah gave Anna a send-off pat on the back. “I’ll live vicariously through you.”

  Anna flashed a grin and hurried toward Juan’s Ferrari.

  Sarah gazed dreamily after them. Wouldn’t a weekend in Florence be great? Not partying in the Piazza della Signoria like Anna but touring the halls of the Uffizi. She could walk the shores of the Arno; she could study the David.

  “Ms. Miller,” a low timbre resounded.

  Sarah turned to see Eduardo approach. The sun glistened off his shiny curls, and his white shirt magnified his tanned skin. But something was different—a tightness set into his jaw and a stiffness consumed his usually relaxed shoulders. Moody. He definitely thinks I’m moody.

  “Sister Maria tells me you’re helping Lucia with her lines,” he said.

  “She does?”

  Behind Eduardo, and across the schoolyard, Sister Maria stood with Lucia.

  “Sister Maria doesn’t miss anything.” Eduardo ran his fingers through his hair. “I learned the hard way—more detentions than I can count.”

  Sarah gasped. “She was your teacher?”

  “Principal. Six years.”

  “Is that why she’s at a girls’ school now?” She tipped up her lips in a smile.

  Eduardo studied her for a moment, before he laughed.

  His brown eyes gleamed, and his laugh was easy, almost playful. The electricity in Sarah’s veins recharged.

  Eduardo’s laughter subsided, and an uneasiness settled over him again. “I don’t think she’d disagree. Anyway,” his gaze shifted to his feet then Sarah’s face, and back to his feet, “I just wanted to say thanks.” He started toward Lucia and Sister Maria.

  “Eduardo,” Sarah called.

  He stopped and wheeled around.

  Sarah let the energy in her veins direct her. She swallowed hard, rolled her shoulders back, and smiled. “I wondered if you’re still willing to help me with my Italian. I mean, if you’re not too busy.”

  Eduardo’s jaw softened, and his shoulders relaxed. His lips rounded into a smile. “Sure. When would you like to start?”

  She relaxed her shoulders. “Whenever suits you.”

  “I’ve got Lucia this weekend. How about Monday? After school?”

  “That would be great.” Sarah’s voice came out in an enthusiastic hurrah. She pulled it back, biting her lip. “I mean, I’d appreciate your help very much.”

  He smiled and held her gaze for a moment before turning to retrieve Lucia.

  Sarah waited for them to depart—waited for one last infectious smile and carefree wave from Eduardo before they pulled away. A heady feeling swarmed her, threatening to make her sway. But beneath the dizziness, the electricity charged.

  On the far side of the courtyard, Sister Maria stared at Eduardo’s exiting car.

  Was the stickler nun smiling? Sarah didn’t step closer to see. Too many things raced through her mind: the divorce, the deal, and a first date. She had to tell someone, and Sister Maria definitely wasn’t that person. She raced back to her room, dialing Meredith on the way.

  One ring.

  Two rings. Shoot, was Meredith dropping Amber at the bus stop?

  Three rings. Was Steven napping?

  “Sarah? Is that you?”

  Sarah reached her room, slipped inside, and slammed the door. “Meredith, I’ve got so much to tell you.” The excitement in her voice returned, and she did nothing to mask it.

  “What? What is—”

  “I’m two signatures from divorce. Philip is paying my lawyer fees, and…” Sarah flounced on the bed, twirling her hair around one finger. “I’ve got a date.” Hopefully, she didn’t royally muck it up.

  Chapter 13

  The following Monday, Sarah sat in her classroom. She pulled her makeup from her desk drawer and applied a coat of mascara and a warm peach-colored lip gloss. With hardly a minute to spare between the children’s departure and Eduardo’s expected arrival, she settled on pulling her bangs into a clip. Why hadn’t she thought to schedule their date for later in the day? Then she could have slipped into something more flattering than her frumpy work clothes. Not that the timing mattered much—she’d spent most of Saturday in search of a new outfit, but without Anna’s help, finding a viable one was impossible. Did every boutique have to cater to five-foot-four-inch women who wore a size four, or whatever number that size translated to here?

  She smoothed her skirt. At least she hadn’t borrowed Sister Angelica’s iron for nothing. Her work clothes would have to do.

  A knock sounded on the classroom door.

  “Come in!” Sarah shoved her makeup inside the desk.

  Grinning, Eduardo entered. “Just making sure I don’t plow into you again.”

  “How considerate,” she teased, returning his smile.

  He hesitated for a split-second as his gaze flitted from her eyes to lips then back. “You look different…”

  Sarah held her breath. Was the makeup too much?

  “…nice.”

  A smile curved Sarah’s lips. “Thanks.”

  Eduardo took a step toward her. “Did you want to work here or somewhere else?”

  “Oh, anywhere is fine.” Anywhere with some privacy.

  “It’s a nice day. How
about the park?”

  What could be more perfect for a first date than a quiet bench secluded from passersby? “Sure.” She forced any excitement from her voice. She walked a few blocks by Eduardo’s side to one of the parks flanking Balduina. The lush green trees were a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of Rome. The scent of fresh grass and newly blossomed flowers filled the air.

  Eduardo took a seat on a wooden bench shaded by evergreens. “So”—he crossed his long legs—“I haven’t actually taught Italian to anyone before.”

  As Sarah joined him on the bench, she considered her response. “Why don’t we talk about something else instead,” or “Let’s skip the lesson and move on to necking”—okay, maybe that idea was a little much. But the thought of making a move made her breath shake. “I appreciate your offer to help.” She took care to make sure her voice came out steady.

  “I thought maybe we could start with greetings then move on to typical phrases, questions.”

  “Sounds good.” Sarah scooted a little closer.

  He stared through his glasses then he cleared his throat, stiffened his posture, and delved into a lecture on formal and informal greetings: ciao, buongiorno, and addio.

  His enthusiasm was cute, but Sarah inwardly swooned. Why couldn’t they pick up that conversation they’d started in her classroom a few weeks ago? The Barber of Seville was much more interesting than Italian greetings. Sarah suppressed a yawn, leaned on one elbow, and feigned as much interest as she could, but her gaze wandered to the sun dancing off the gray streaks in his hair.

  Ten minutes into his lesson, Eduardo peered at her with a steady gaze. “Now,” he said, “let’s practice.”

  Sarah nodded. Was this a test? And more importantly, would he find her more attractive if she played the dumb blonde or the goody two-shoes student? Given her terrible Italian skills, hopefully he preferred the dumb blonde. Speaking only in Italian, she stumbled through a brutally slow exchange of vital information: names, where they lived, and jobs.

  “Insegnante, teacher, has the same form for masculine and feminine,” Eduardo explained. “The only difference is in the article. A man would say io sono un insegnante. A woman, io sono un’insegnante.”

  Uh…he said something different? She furrowed her brows. Yep, dumb blonde it would have to be.

  “You try.” Eduardo stared with raised eyebrows.

  “Uh…” Sarah repeated what he’d said, but she sounded like a stuttering parakeet.

  Eduardo laughed. “Well, that’s a start.” He scooted closer.

  Yes! Hurray for dumb blondes.

  “How old are you? Quanti anni hai?”

  Sarah replied with what she thought was thirty-three.

  He signaled the numbers three and three on his hands.

  Sarah nodded. “Quanti anni hai?”

  “Trentasei.”

  After taking a moment to translate, Sarah held up her fingers—first three then six.

  “Brava.” He smiled then looked away. “Are you married? Sei sposata?”

  “Si.” The response spilled out before Sarah could stop it.

  Eduardo jerked back, and his eyes shot wide.

  “I mean,” Sarah added in English, “I’m getting divorced. I just received the papers last week. That’s why…why I’ve been a bit distracted.”

  “I understand,” he responded in English. “I remember going through that process with Roberta. The negotiations, the custody battle.” His eyes darkened. “Probably the hardest few months of my life.”

  “I can only imagine the difficulty when children are involved. Fortunately, Philip and I—” She stopped abruptly, shifted in her seat then started again. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the other day at school.”

  Eduardo waved a hand. “Eh, I chalked it up to unruly children.” He inched a little closer. “So, hai un ragazzo?”

  “A boyfriend?” Sarah raised an eyebrow playfully. “Is this part of the lesson or for your own interest?”

  Laughing, Eduardo spread his left arm over the back of the bench. “Both.”

  Shaking her head, Sarah smiled—no, she beamed. Her smile lifted her cheeks so high, she swore they obscured her sight. “I want to jump.”

  “Hai un…” Should she begin with una or un? Ragazzo or ragazza? She hmphed. The words didn’t matter. His answer would. She opened her mouth again, but his phone interrupted her sluggish response.

  Eduardo sat back and pulled the phone from his breast pocket. His face soured. “Sorry. Work.”

  Sarah forced a smile, but the longer he talked, the more it slipped from her face.

  When Eduardo clicked off the phone, he stood. “I have to get going.” A sinking feeling seized her gut. She hadn’t even found out if he had a girlfriend. She sighed, stood, and reluctantly followed him to his car.

  “I’m sorry to cut our lesson short.”

  “It’s no problem, really. You’re busy.”

  Eduardo sighed. “Running a firm is hard. I have a secretary and an associate now, but work always creeps into my personal time.”

  Sarah lifted her chin. At least he categorized their meeting as “personal time.”

  “Perhaps we could continue later this week? Friday?”

  “I’d love to.” She smiled. “Same time?”

  His phone rang again, and he groaned as he picked it up. “See you Friday,” he whispered before hopping into his car.

  Eduardo’s car pulled away, and Juan’s red sports car zoomed in.

  Sarah waited by the curb. Anna would never believe her luck—not just one meeting, but a second one planned? Now they really had a reason to celebrate.

  Juan strolled to the passenger side and opened the door, but Anna didn’t get out. He leaned in, picked up a pair of bare legs by the knees, and twisted them out of the car.

  Anna’s clunky shoes hit the pavement with a thud, and her jelly-like body spilled out of the car.

  “Anna, my God.” Sarah brushed aside Juan and supported Anna. “Are you sick?”

  Anna waved her off. “I’m fine.”

  Juan leaned into Sarah. “She refused to sleep, and…” He tipped back his head and mimicked drinking from an imaginary cup.

  “I heard that.” Anna shot a glare from dark-circled eyes. “I slept on the train.”

  “Six hours over three days isn’t enough. Get some rest.” Juan smacked Anna’s ass. “Doctor’s orders.”

  Sarah couldn’t help but cringe. Was he really a doctor, or just some rich man with a fetish for roleplaying? Good looks and expensive car aside, if Sarah ever met him in a doctor’s office, she’d declare herself healthy in a hurry. She grabbed Anna’s elbow. “I’ll take her inside.”

  He shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and slipped into his car.

  Anna’s knees gave out, and she started to fall. “Sorry.”

  Sarah clutched her waist, holding her upright. She slung Anna’s duffel bag over her shoulder and started toward the dorm. “I figured the vampire lifestyle would catch up with you sooner or later. I thought you were the bunny who never stops.”

  Barely standing, Anna cocked an eyebrow.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Advertising gimmick, my dear.” With Anna attached, Sarah trudged into the dorm and up the stairs. For the first time since arriving, she wished for an elevator—Anna’s bag weighed at least sixty pounds. Hell, carrying Anna might have been lighter.

  Reaching Anna’s room, Sarah flopped Anna into her desk chair. She bent down to yank off Anna’s boots. Only Anna could pull off green combat boots with a mini-skirt. “You heard your boyfriend.” She hoisted Anna’s arm over her shoulder. “Off to bed with you.”

  “Not yet.” Anna’s rag-doll body perked to life, and she pulled free her arm. “I’ve got to finish something first.”

  “Finish what?”

  Anna flipped open her laptop.

  A website was already up on the screen. Oxford Graduate School Application.

  “It’s due today.”

  “A
nna, how could you have left it until the last minute? You’re applying to Oxford, not a country club.”

  “I know, I know.” Anna’s hand fumbled with the mouse. “It’s almost done. I…just need…” Her head sank into her elbow then plopped onto the desk. “…a little…” A steady whistle of breaths replaced her voice.

  “Anna.” Sarah planted her hands on her hips. “Anna!”

  Anna didn’t move; she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Well, if I ever,” Sarah grumbled under her breath. She wheeled Anna’s chair to the bed, tipped it, and dumped Anna in. Uncurling Anna’s limbs, she covered her with a blanket. Sarah stepped to the desk. What was the harm in seeing how much she’d completed? If all Anna needed to do was click a couple bubbles, Sarah could do it for her.

  She scrolled through the application: graduation with honors, scholarships, and publications. Anna hadn’t fibbed—the application was nearly complete. Even the transcripts were uploaded. Only one question remained unanswered. Why do you want to study at Oxford? Anna typed in three words: Enigma, cryptography, encryption.

  Enigma? Cryptography? Encryption?

  Sarah nudged Anna’s elbow. “Anna, what’s the difference between cryptography and encryption?”

  Anna muttered gibberish and raised an eyebrow but didn’t open her eyes. She wriggled her nose, snorted, and then rolled to her side.

  Great. Maybe if Sarah dated a computer engineer way back when, she’d have some idea what the hell Anna intended to write. What did codes have to do with Oxford? Sarah scowled in Anna’s direction. But she owed Anna big time for the divorce settlement. She had to help her out, and if Sleeping Beauty wouldn’t tell her, she’d have to figure it out herself—or at least, the Internet would.

  Two hours, a slew of websites, and half a jar of Choctella later—thank goodness Anna had some food stashed in her desk—Sarah solved the puzzle. The Germans created the Enigma machine during World War I to encrypt messages; a British team later broke the code, greatly aiding the Allies in World War II. Oxford housed one of the world’s most renowned cryptography research teams. Anna’s motivation for studying at Oxford made perfect sense.

  Sarah eased back in her seat and dipped her spoon into the Choctella. She licked off the sweet, gooey glob. And now, to concoct a response Anna might write. Sarah typed.