The man’s voice was pleading. “We can go, darling. Later. But the festival’s going to start tomorrow. But don’t you want to see the city of Verona?”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “No, not unless it has a beach!” she snarled, the chair scraping on the stones as she pushed away from the table and stormed off.
Diana ventured a glance at the man. He looked at her, smiled, and shrugged, like What can you do?
I would’ve gone with you, Diana thought, as the man walked away.
Diana slid off her chair and noticed a brochure spread out on the table that the couple had just abandoned. She went over to it and lifted it up. Sure enough, it was for a summer-long Shakespeare festival in Verona, with music, special events, shopping, and, of course, theater. Diana studied the photograph of the crowded outdoor theater-in-the-round, with people dressed in Elizabethan doublets and ruffs acting on stage. She imagined herself there, and shivered from the thrill of it all.
This was what she wanted to do.
Not some horrible dinner where she had to pretend to be happy for her ex-husband while he fawned over some brainless tart.
But she couldn’t back out now. Grabbing her purse, she went through to the lobby and stopped at the concierge. “Ciao,” she said to the man at the desk. “Can you call me a cab?”
“Yes, signora. Where to?”
She opened her purse and pulled out the slip of paper that Evan had given her. “Ora d’Aria?”
As he picked up the phone to call, she noticed the same brochure for the Shakespeare festival that she’d seen outside. “How far away is Verona, from here?” she asked him once he’d finished making the call.
“It is about a three-hour train ride,” he said, as she pulled open the brochure and gazed at the photographs of the old city.
“How do I reserve tickets?”
“You may do that here, signora,” he said, typing away on the computer in front of him. “Two tickets for tomorrow at nine a.m. would be eight hundred forty euros.”
“Two? Oh.” She shook her head. “No. It would just be me.”
“Oh, scusatemi, signora. Then four-twenty euros, for just you.” Maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to look her over with a glance that said, And what is wrong with you? His eyes landed on her frumpy dress, pausing there, as if he’d found the reason.
She crossed her arms over her chest, thanked the man, and headed out to wait for the cab. She’d get her ticket to Verona later. Right now, she had dinner with the family to think about.
*
“Mommy!” a voice called from the bar of the restaurant, the second Diana stepped inside.
Suddenly, a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous woman flung herself into Diana’s arms. Though her youngest looked different, she hugged very much the same, as if trying to squeeze the life out of her. Diana smiled. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”
It’d been too long, over thirteen months, since Bea had left the United States to teach in Japan. Bea was Diana’s wanderer child, her free spirit. She never stayed in place for too long. “Same here, Mommy,” she said, pulling away so that they could look at each other.
Diana probably had a few more wrinkles, since the divorce hadn’t exactly been kind to her, but Bea had blossomed. Gone was the college-aged girl in the messy bun, glasses, and shapeless sorority sweatshirt. Now, she had a sleek, short pixie-cut and a feminine pink sundress which enhanced her small frame. The same freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose, though. “You look lovely. Where is Hai?”
Bea laughed. “Bring him? Please. This is a girls’ trip!” She laughed. “Well, except for Dad.”
Just then, Lily appeared between them and hugged her. Lily was even taller than Bea, with the long, more serious face of her father. She was a classic beauty, statuesque and trim, with long raven hair like Diana’s, and the bright blue eyes of Evan. “Yeah, Mick was happy to get rid of me.” She snickered. “Just kidding. He had to work. As usual. You know him, nose to the grindstone all the time.”
As she pulled away, Diana couldn’t resist peeking at her tummy. Still flat . . . but was that perhaps the hint of a bulge there? “Well, I’m glad to see you both.”
“Mom. I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Lily muttered. “If this isn’t the most dysfunctional family dinner . . .”
Diana had to agree on that one. “I couldn’t not! When he told me you two were going to be here . . . what was I supposed to do?”
Bea’s jaw dropped and she exchanged a glance with her sister. “Wait . . . Dad told us that you were coming, and that’s why he said he wanted us here. Are you telling us that you had no idea about this?”
Diana shook her head. “No, what do you mean? I only found out about it this afternoon, when I saw him at Ponte Vecchio. I was surprised to find him there.”
Lily, the skeptic, squinted. “Something smells fishy to me.”
“Definitely. Something’s up. Well, come on,” Bea said, grabbing Diana’s hand and smirking at her as she led her through the crowded restaurant. “Let’s not keep the happy couple waiting. Just a warning. Vidal’s already had two glasses of wine, so she’s a little happy.”
They’d gotten a tight corner booth with a bench seat that went all the way around a circular table. Vidal was on the very end, and thankfully, Bea knew to slide all the way in to sit next to her dad. Lily went next, and Diana sat on the other end, right across from Vidal.
It was an unfortunate position, to say the least. Tilda was wearing a red dress that had perhaps less material than the one she’d been wearing earlier that day, if that was even possible. From Diana’s spot, she could see straight down the plunging V of the form-fitting gown, almost to her navel. Her abundant hair was down and so full that it needed its own place at the table, and her face was so made-up, she looked like one of those Bratz dolls her kids used to play with.
As Diana got comfortable, Evan poured her a glass of wine from one of two bottles on the table. At least he hadn’t forgotten her choice of white over red. Tilda giggled and kicked her under the table with a sharp kitten heel. Probably an accident, but pain shot up her leg. Tilda leaned forward and took another sip of her wine, her eyes bleary. “Nice dress, Mrs. . . . um, Diana. Is it okay if I call you Diana?”
Diana smiled. At that moment, she preferred it. “I love your dress, too.”
Tilda looked down and jutted her boobs out in a way that made every male in the place take notice. “Thanks. Evan bought it for me. He’s so sweet.”
Evan grinned. Until that moment, Diana had thought he had taste. She hadn’t realized he was into the painted-on, Frederick’s of Hollywood look.
Bea looked over at her father. “Mom says she didn’t know about this little soiree until this afternoon. So how did it come about?”
Evan’s goofy grin disappeared. “What do you mean? It was perfectly innocent. I call it serendipity.”
Tilda nodded and lifted her glass. “Yes! To serentiddity!”
Bea burst out laughing. Lily elbowed her.
Diana laughed. She could definitely drink to that. And she did.
Evan beamed around the table at them, just as the waiters arrived with plates of food. “Diana. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering for us all. It’s all family-style here, and everything’s incredible, from what I hear.”