Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

“Leave at intermission?”

  The valet opened the passenger door and extended his hand.

  “Not a chance.” She exited the car, and the cool air nipped her cheeks.

  Eduardo trotted around the car, passing the keys to the valet.

  “Besides,” Sarah continued, “Traviata was written by your favorite composer, remember?”

  Eduardo slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. He gave a sigh. “Be thankful tonight’s performance is a Verdi masterpiece and not a Puccini melodrama, or I’d never let you through the door.”

  Smiling, Sarah tucked closer and followed him through the column-lined entrance. Crystal sconces illuminated their private box, and soft red fabric covered the seats and lined the walls. Before taking her seat, Sarah leaned against the balcony and scanned the domed auditorium. Hundreds of boxes circled the room, each identical to theirs. On the floor, at least as many chairs separated the box seats from the stage. Above, sparkling chandeliers illuminated a fresco-embellished ceiling.

  Sarah’s spine tingled. Meredith would never believe this grandeur. She snapped a picture on her phone then took a seat next to Eduardo.

  He thumbed his phone as well. “Just reminding Matteo I’ll be in late tomorrow.”

  Sarah frowned. “I didn’t realize you’d gone back to work.”

  “The place won’t run itself. I’ve been out a week already.”

  “Oh.” Sarah turned her attention to the program. When was the last time she’d thought of work? One—no, two weeks ago. She sank farther into the plush cushion. When school started again next week—was that only four days away?—she’d mostly see Eduardo on the weekends.

  She tightened her hands on the program and snapped her head toward Eduardo. “You don’t work on weekends, do you?”

  “Weekends?” He didn’t look up from his phone.

  Sarah stared. This conversation was reminiscent to one she’d had with Philip.

  In his seat, Eduardo flicked his gaze from his phone, to Sarah then back to his phone.

  The orchestra warmed up, dissonant chords resonating through the hall. Sarah kept her gaze on Eduardo.

  He tapped the screen one last time then slipped the phone into his breast pocket. He shifted his hand to her knee. “What were you saying?”

  Applause rumbled through the room. Sarah drifted her gaze to the stage.

  The maestro, who wore a tuxedo and held a baton, took the podium.

  Her fingers tingled with anticipation of the overture. She inched forward in her chair. “Nothing.”

  For the next three hours, the stage consumed Sarah. She bobbed up and down to the brindisi. When Violetta abandoned Alfredo, she clutched the edge of her seat. During the death scene, she choked back tears. And when the curtains were drawn, Sarah wept openly. Clapping between sniffles, she turned to Eduardo to ask for a tissue.

  His seat was empty.

  Sarah scanned the box.

  In the shadow of the entrance, Eduardo stood scowling, his phone pressed against his ear.

  Concerned, Sarah grabbed her purse and joined him. Applause sounded behind her, and the audience rose to their feet.

  Eduardo returned his phone to his pocket and said something to Sarah.

  Under the noise of the applause, all she caught was the name Matteo.

  He tugged her hand and pulled her into the foyer. “Matteo’s mother,” he said. “She passed unexpectedly.”

  His eyes were dark. Sarah squeezed his hand. “Oh, no. That’s awful.”

  “Tomorrow.” Eduardo hung his head. “I’ll have to go in tomorrow to cover Matteo’s meeting.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry about me. I can take the bus back from your place.”

  Eduardo jerked up his head. His eyebrows met, and his gaze drifted from her to the entrance behind her. “I meant, we should postpone tonight. I need to prepare. The Giuseppe case is one of our biggest clients.”

  Heat brushed Sarah’s cheeks. “Oh.” The expression popped out, and she forced a smile, but inside her heart ached. “It’s fine, really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  His muted eyes told her the question was asked out of politeness, not sincerity. He was probably already mentally scanning the files on his desk.

  The doors behind them opened, and patrons rushed the foyer.

  Sarah stepped back from Eduardo, letting bystanders brush between her and Eduardo.

  “Of course,” she said. But with the clatter of shoes and the swooshing of dresses, she was sure he didn’t hear. How could he so easily be swept away with work?

  ****

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

  Sarah tossed over in her bed, the coils creaking. How idiotic was she to invest so much energy into their first night together? She’d purchased two negligées and three pairs of panties. She sighed. Stupid. Eduardo couldn’t spare an hour of his night to be with her? How much preparing was necessary?

  She glanced at the alarm clock. Three a.m. She jammed the pillow over her face.

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

  Sighing, she loosened her grip on the pillow. Could she really be mad with Eduardo? She’d been the one to spring the idea of staying the night. The meeting was with one of his biggest clients. He wasn’t brushing her off…was he?

  No, no, no. They’d make up for it tomorrow. Sarah pulled the pillow from her face and considered her packed bag. As soon as he got off work, he’d call. She’d grab the bag, and voilà. No big deal.

  She kneaded her fingers into the pillow. He would call, wouldn’t he? Certainly, he wouldn’t have brought any work home. Tomorrow was the weekend. Wait—had he ever answered the question about the weekend? Sarah groaned and flopped onto her stomach.

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

  A floorboard creaked above her. What would she say to Anna? If she could fall asleep sometime before sunrise, she might wake before Anna. And then what? Avoid her forever? Ignore her texts?

  Sarah rolled to her side. This reaction was too much—especially for a conversation about sex. She rounded her mouth into a smile.

  Tomorrow she’d find out what sex with an Italian was like. She closed her eyes, hugged the pillow tighter, and imagined Eduardo’s warm arms around her.

  Atlanta, Georgia. Honolulu, Hawaii. Boise, Idaho.

  ****

  Sarah sipped her second cup of tea, this one with two bags of her strongest black tea. What a shame she didn’t like coffee—waking up would certainly be easier. Light streamed through her classroom window, dappling her lesson plans with winter’s strong, morning light.

  Today was a perfect day to take in a museum or wrap herself in a scarf and frolic through the city. Who wouldn’t want to explore beautiful Rome on their last day of vacation? But the weeks of touring with her mother and Eduardo spoiled her; now she’d rather wait to have him by her side, his hand enveloping hers. She’d received no messages. That meeting must be damned important. Why else would he skip his usual morning text?

  Yawning, she pushed the phone to the side. The students would be back on Monday; spending the day planning was a more practical choice, anyway. She flipped open her lesson plan book and penciled inside.

  Several hours later, with a few days of lessons completed, Sarah received no message from Eduardo. She fidgeted with her phone instead of preparing for class. Should she text him? Ask him again if he worked on the weekends?

  No. He was busy with his top client, remember? And what about poor Matteo? Maybe Eduardo needed to attend the funeral this weekend, not spend time with her. If that was the case, she couldn’t avoid Anna that long. Sarah was surprised not to have gotten any scandalous texts. Then again, the time was only two p.m. Wonder Girl didn’t get up until at least half past three.

  One p.m. Nine in the morning back home. Amber should be off to school by now and Meredith free to chat. Tapping her phone’s screen, Sarah pulled up her picture fro
m the opera house, sent it to Meredith, and waited. Two minutes later, her phone rang.

  “Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Meredith said without a greeting.

  She heard the envy in her friend’s voice. “Yep.”

  “And that’s all you send? No sound bites, no video? Just a still image?”

  Sarah smiled. “I had to sneak even that.”

  “I suppose that will have to scratch my itch then.”

  “But the show was wonderful. No, spectacular. Their voices soared, and I swear I’ve never seen an orchestra that talented. Verdi. Did I mention the performance was Verdi?”

  Meredith huffed. “Are you trying to make me jealous? I’m here cleaning up kid puke, and you’re delighting in Rome’s opera. How’s that for fair?”

  “Kid puke?” She straightened in her chair. “Really? Who’s sick?”

  “They both are. Today’s main event is tag-team barfing, and I’m the referee.”

  “Oh, no,” Sarah said through a laugh. “At least you don’t have it.”

  “Yet. At least I don’t have it yet.” Meredith sighed. “But I can’t complain. We got through the holidays without a sneeze, so this calamity is what I get, right?”

  “That is always how life works, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. But enough about me. Tell me, who took you to the opera? I can’t imagine you went by yourself.”

  “Well, since you asked,” Sarah strung out the word and widened her smile, “I did have a companion.”

  “A companion. Now that is interesting. Please tell me more—” A muffled call sounded in the background, and Meredith cut off. “Crap.” She sighed. “Or should I say puke? Either way, Mommy duties beckon. But please, I want a full rundown tomorrow, okay?”

  “Tomorrow, sure thing.” If she was lucky, tomorrow she’d have a lot more to tell.

  “Oh, and before I forget,” Meredith said, “Amber’s teacher just announced her retirement. So, a position will be free for first grade.”

  “First grade, huh? Well, I’ll have to give applying some thought.” After tonight, that is.

  ****

  Eduardo didn’t call until close to nine o’clock. Back in her room, Sarah was so tired she strongly considered taking a shot of espresso.

  “What a day,” Eduardo said.

  What a day, indeed. A boring morning followed by an equally mundane afternoon and evening. Hell, the highlight of Sarah’s day was an afternoon nap strategically scheduled to avoid Anna. “That bad?” she asked.

  “Well, getting two hours’ sleep is never a good start.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sarah yawned. But Eduardo—only two hours? Was he doing work that whole time, or thinking about her?

  “But I was prepared, hell, over-prepared for the Giuseppe meeting.”

  So, his night was filled with work. Sarah pictured the desk in his living room—the stacks of files and papers. How often did he use that desk?

  “The meeting finished early, and I had a late lunch then got back at it.”

  Late lunch? And he didn’t bother to call or text? Or had he worked through lunch, fork in one hand, a report in the other?

  “I just got back. Do you want to have dinner?”

  “Dinner?” The question came out in a half-screech. “At half past nine?”

  “Oh, right. I guess I worked through dinner. Well, do you want to come over? I could swing by and get you.”

  Sarah perked up. She reached for her overnight bag but froze, clutching the straps. “You don’t have plans for the morning? Work?”

  “Nope.”

  “Or the funeral?”

  “Funeral?”

  Sarah dropped the handles. “Matteo’s mother?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  “Forgot? Aren’t you supposed to send flowers or something?” Hell, even Mr. Rosen sent flowers when Sarah’s father passed. A long silence reverberated on the line. Heat rushed Sarah’s face. So not only was he blowing her off, but Matteo, too? “Actually, Eduardo, I’m exhausted. Can we reschedule?”

  “Reschedule?”

  Sarah collapsed into her chair. “Yes. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Why don’t we touch base in the morning?” Sarah brushed a hand over the laptop keyboard, jostling it from sleep.

  “Okay. What time?”

  “Time? I don’t…” A pop-up window announced a new e-mail from Meredith. Subject: FWD: Ms. Greiger’s retirement.

  Sarah clicked on the email and scanned through the paragraph. With thirty-five years teaching, Ms. Greiger would be missed, et cetera. Arduous search ahead to find a replacement.

  “Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tomorrow,” Eduardo said. “What time did you want to get together?”

  “Um…” Sarah pulsed her finger on the touchpad. “I’m not sure, Eduardo. I’ll text you in the morning. G’night.”

  If Eduardo said something more, Sarah didn’t catch it. Her heart thudded as she opened another window, pulling up her resume. She hung up the phone. Could this job be any more perfect?

  Chapter 27

  A knock sounded on the door. Sarah opened one eye, and the blurry numbers of her alarm clock came into focus. Seven a.m. She threw the covers over her head and let out a humph. Anna really was taking retaliation to a whole new level. So what if Sarah ignored her repeated texts? Since when was she a pillow-talker anyway?

  The knock sounded again. Since when did Anna knock? Sarah flung the covers off her face.

  “Sarah? You up?” Eduardo’s voice floated through the door.

  She bolted upright. “Just a minute!” She slipped on a robe and stumbled to the door. “Eduardo, what are you doing here? How did you get—” She paused, her gaze down the hall. “Sister Maria?”

  Eduardo shook his head. “Anna. Does that girl ever sleep?”

  Sighing, Sarah opened the door a couple more inches. “She’s pretty much a vampire. A genius, but a vampire.” She motioned to enter.

  Eduardo edged inside and shoved his hands into his pockets. His gaze shifted from his shoes to Sarah’s face. “Sister Maria isn’t here, anyway,” he said in a somber tone. “She’s gone with Matteo to the funeral.”

  Sarah softened her stance. Eduardo’s eyes were apologetic.

  “I called him last night. You were right, Sarah. Poor guy, he’s a wreck. Sending flowers was the least I could do.” He removed a hand from his pocket and took Sarah’s in his own. “I should have sent you some, too.”

  Sarah’s grogginess abated. “You don’t need to do that.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Yes, I do. I was an ass. Here I was, a few days earlier, lamenting my wrongs with Lucia and Roberta, and then I do the same thing with you.” He stepped closer and placed his other hand on her cheek.

  His palm was warm and smooth, like the sensation coursing through her.

  “I wanted to make it up to you. Make it up to us.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth.

  “Right now?” The steeliness in her voice was cut by a mild quiver.

  “In that bed?” Shaking his head, Eduardo gestured to the bed and smirked. “Is your bag still packed?”

  Sarah followed his gaze to her bag, which sat next to the door and gave a weak nod.

  He dropped her hand. “Good. Because the train leaves at the top of the hour.”

  “Train? Where are we—”

  “Florence.” He shrugged. “I figured you’d like that more than flowers.”

  Florence! A shiver prickled her spine, and Sarah stopped herself from clapping her hands. The Uffizi? The David? The Arno? She planted a kiss on Eduardo’s cheek, smacking her lips for emphasis.

  He grinned and picked up her bag. “Shall we?”

  Sarah gazed at the bag, and she bit her lip. “Just give me a few minutes.” She ushered him out the door, ran to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth. She snatched her matching set of undergarments from the shower rod. Thank God she’d had sense enough to wash them. S
he threw them on, along with her favorite pair of jeans and a top, and rushed out the door.

  ****

  The train eased out of the station, picking up speed, and Rome’s buildings faded in the distance. Suburbia slipped into rolling countryside, and Sarah relaxed in her seat. “This trip won’t put you behind on work?”

  “Would it matter if it did?”

  Sarah frowned.

  “Relax.” Eduardo patted her knee. “I told you I worked late yesterday. I have the weekend free.”

  Sarah fingered the soft fabric covering the seat. “So, if you don’t work late, does that mean you work on the weekends?”

  With a sigh, Eduardo pulled back his hand and rubbed at a crease in his forehead. “Running a business requires a lot of work. It takes more than just managing the cases. I monitor cash flow and market for new clients. Hell, I even have to make sure the office gets cleaned.”

  “Don’t you have an office manager who can take care of that?”

  Eduardo lowered his hand. “I have a secretary, but she can’t handle those sorts of things.”

  I’m pretty sure every secretary in America performs those tasks. “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  “Then hire someone who can.”

  Eduardo pinched the corner of his mouth. “You sound like Sister Maria.”

  “Come on, Eduardo, you’re talking about cleaning your office and getting receipts to an accountant, not adding spices to your bolognese sauce.”

  “What’s wrong with my bolognese? That’s a family recipe.”

  Sarah snapped down her tray table and extracted a paper and pen from her purse. “Payroll, marketing, cleaning.” She scribbled the words.

  Cocking his chin, he lifted a brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing a job posting. So, what else does this person need to do?”

  Eduardo paused, leaning his head against the glass. He tapped a foot against the floor.

  “Well?” Sarah prodded.

  He shifted, squaring his shoulders so he faced her. “Well, the person would oversee the secretary and help with billing.”

  Secretary. Help with billing. Sarah added the tasks to her list.

  Eduardo picked up the disposable cup of coffee and raised it to his mouth. He stopped, the paper cup just shy of his lips. “And coffee,” he said. “The person would need to make a proper cup of coffee, because I’m spending half the day picking grounds out of my teeth.”