“There’s nothing wrong with my balance,” Ruby had retorted, though she secretly loved hearing Ariana dote on her. Her sweet, strawberry blond-haired niece had the heart of an angel, though she was often too accommodating.
Ruby nestled the tip of her walking stick into the rocky ground. Here, right here, is where Niccolò and I planned our future. Dreams as big as the canopy of sky overhead, pinned in place by snow-capped peaks.
But we were so young, so naïve.
Acting had been her dream ever since she’d seen her first film, The Yearling, at the old movie theater. Her mother drove them more than an hour over rutted dirt roads in the rusty Ford pick-up they used on the ranch. They wore their Sunday best, too. Her mother made a new red-gingham dress with navy-blue piping for her.
From the first flicker on the screen, Ruby was immersed in the celluloid saga, identifying with the little boy on screen. A few years later, on a whim, her mother sent photos of Ruby to her sister, Vivienne, who lived in Hollywood and knew a talent agent. Her mother begged her father to let Ruby have a little adventure before she settled down with a husband and children. Before long, Ruby was on a train bound for Hollywood.
On the hillside, Ruby swayed a little, then righted herself with the walking stick. The past often seemed more vibrant than today. Lately, she’d found herself forgetting little things that hardly mattered, a date, or the name of an acquaintance. Not too bad for a youthful-looking woman of a certain age, she told herself. She wouldn’t admit to a day over sixty-five, at least not to the media. What difference did a few more years make? She didn’t feel old, except in her joints on rainy days.
But Ruby remembered everything that had happened in Italy. Reveling in her memories, she lifted her face to the sunshine. A moment later, she felt a tug on her sleeve and turned around.
“Scusi, Signora.” Matteo was by her side again.
Ruby lifted a brow. “I promise I’m not contemplating offing myself.”
The guide chuckled. “Honestly, I needed a moment myself. Sometimes I forget what a beautiful home we have here.” After gazing over the windswept lake, he turned to her. “Did you enjoy yourself in Rome?”
Another guide had led the tour there. “I did. I had a chance to relive an important chapter of my life. My first film, even though my part was cut in final editing. It starred Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, but you’re probably too young to know it.”
“Vacanze Romane, or as you say in America, Roman Holiday.” Matteo grinned, tenting his hand against the sun. “It’s still very popular here. That must have been an enchanting time.”
Ruby smiled. But not in the way you think. Securing her emerald-green, print silk scarf that was fluttering in the breeze, she said, “It certainly was. That was the first Hollywood film shot entirely on location in Italy. During those magical weeks, it seemed all of Rome buzzed with excitement. And we had a wonderful group of talented actors and technicians. Everyone knew Gregory Peck, of course. He was already a big star. In fact, he was in the first movie I’d ever seen, The Yearling.”
“Who directed the film?” Matteo touched her elbow to steady her.
“William Wyler—Willie to his friends, but Mr. Wyler on the set,” Ruby said. “He risked casting a relatively unknown actress who’d been working in England. Roman Holiday had been Audrey Hepburn’s big break. Mr. Wyler knew she had the potential to be a huge star.” Ruby paused. “I miss her so much. I really looked up to her on the set. Aside from being a brilliant actress, Audrey was such a fine woman with a huge heart.”
Matteo smiled at her comment. “If you don’t mind my saying, you seem awfully young to have been in that film.”
“You flatter me.” Ruby laughed. “I was barely seventeen, but that film paved my path to success. And after Roman Holiday came out in theaters, I went home to Texas and took my family to see it.” Amused, she shook her head. “I was in a few scenes as an extra, and you’ve never heard so much whooping and hollering about that.”
Her mother had been ecstatic, though her father didn’t approve of her acting. Her mother, Mercy Raines Smith, had spent weeks cajoling her husband to let Ruby go.
“In Rome, did you see any of the places where the movie was filmed?” Matteo asked.
“Oh, yes,” Ruby replied, tucking her hand through the crook of his elbow for balance. “We visited the Palazzo Colonna, the grand palace in the last scene of Roman Holiday. I strolled the cobblestone streets of Via Margutta, where all the bohemian artist studios were located and found the flat used as Joe’s apartment in the film. And then I had lunch at a café with a view of Castel Sant’Angelo and the Tiber River, or the Tevere. You might remember that setting. It was the scene of the melee on the barge, where Audrey smashed a guitar over a policeman’s head.”
“It must have been fun to be there for that.”
Ruby chuckled. “We’d had a long night of filming. I was in the scene as an extra, just one of the people dancing. We were all hot and tired, and after Audrey and the other actors crashed into the water at the end of the final take, we all jumped in for a late-night swim in the Tiber. What fun we had.”
“Sounds more like a magical summer holiday than work,” Matteo said, joining her in laughter.
“Indeed, it was.”
In Rome, Ruby had also left the tour group to find the pensione where she had stayed during filming. Outside, she’d gazed up at the second floor, locating the sunny room that had been hers. The building had been renovated, but the narrow staircase where she and Niccolò had chased each other up the stairs was still there. As she’d rubbed her hand over the worn railing, she could almost hear their peals of youthful laughter.
Matteo’s phone buzzed, and he silenced it. “I wish I could hear more of your stories, but that’s our signal to move on. Maybe you’ll share some over dinner tonight?”
“I’d be happy to,” she said, smiling.
“It will take me a few minutes to gather everyone,” Matteo said.
“I’ll wait here, if that’s okay.” She tapped her cane on the ground. “Don’t worry. I’m on stable ground.”
As much as Ruby loved Rome, the highlight of this trip was Lago di Como—Lake Como—or Lario, as the Latin poet Vergilius or Virgil referred to the magnificent Y-shaped lake. Its beauty had endured through the centuries.
To Ruby, the romance of the region was palpable. Bellagio was perched at the tip of the Larian Triangle. As she recalled, the evening lights glinted like diamonds in the moonlight dusting the surrounding slopes. On either side, the lake’s graceful arms cradled the village while orioles trilled their songs.
Ruby lifted her nose to the breeze as it swept across the lake, carrying the scents of a thousand gardens.
Glancing across the lake, she saw villas from centuries past hugging the shoreline. To one side was the village of Tremezzo with the lovely Villa Carlotta. Farther south on the lake, she recalled the stories of Cernobbio with the exquisite Villa d’Este. Yet the other shore and the sweet comune of Varenna, where a modest bell tower marked the location of a small church, drew her attention.
So many memories.
Ruby rubbed her arms and turned away, unable to look too long.