Diana shook her head. The faster they ate, the faster she could leave this circus. “How kind of you.”
The plates were set down. Big, heaping piles of some seafood dish with mussels, a dish of cavatelli in a blush vodka sauce, bruschetta, and a vegetable dish made of mushrooms. It all smelled wonderful, though Diana didn’t have much of an appetite.
Lily took a sip of her Perrier, then reached over and grabbed a slice of bread from the basket, dredging it in oil. “Mom, I’ve called you three times in the past three days and you never got back to me. What have you been doing? I thought an axe murderer—”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Lily was her worrier.
Bea nodded in agreement. “We were taking bets on how long it would be before you decided to come home. Dad already lost. He said you’d be back in the first week.”
Diana’s mouth opened. “Really?” She glanced at her companions around the table, speechless. So, what? They’d been sitting around, discussing her craziness, without her? Sure, she’d done something rash, but at least she hadn’t gone and proposed to someone half her age. She’d discussed Evan’s mid-life crisis with her kids, but she hadn’t even thought about taking bets to see how long the marriage would last.
Evan shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “Well, Di. We all know how much you like to have control. And a trip like this requires a fair amount of flex—”
“I don’t like to have control that much!” she said, laughing.
They all stared back at her, as if to say, Blind much?
“Forget it.” She set her glass down and pulled out a pen, and slid a napkin toward her. “I lost your numbers when I lost my phone.”
Bea’s mouth was full of pasta. She swallowed and gasped as if Diana had lost a major body part. “You lost your phone?”
Diana nodded.
“Oh my god!” Now, Lily was joining in on the shock.
“Girls. It’s not a big deal. I have to wait for the iPhone, but in the meantime, I have this thing.” Diana pulled out the old dinosaur and set it down on the table for their inspection. “Like I said. I’m not as big a control freak as you might think! Can I have your numbers? It takes me forever to add in contacts on it, so I’ll do it tonight.”
Bea lifted it and opened it. “Oh my god. What—Why—” Her mouth made all sorts of beginnings to questions before settling on one. “What, did you not think you could afford a new phone? This thing is practically useless.”
Diana’s eyes rose to the ornate chandelier above. “I did. Of course I could afford a new phone. But it’s on backorder. Besides, it might be a good thing to try to ween myself off my phone. I recommend you try it. There’s a whole other world out there, girls, and it’s lovely.”
Bea looked at her as if she’d just suggested stapling her own eyelids open instead of imbibing her morning coffee. She reached over and petted her iPhone, resting on the table next to her. “No, thanks. I like my phone.”
Tilda unleashed that laugh, so loud that it was almost as effective as her boobs in making everyone in the vicinity turn to look at them. “Can you believe it, BB?” she said, looking over at Bea. “I said we haven’t seen one of those things since we were like, in diapers!”
Bea scowled at her. She never did like being called BB. Then she pulled out her phone. “Mom, do you know your number? I’ll just call you and you can add it.”
She gave it to her, and a moment later, her phone rang. She added all of their numbers. Evan slid his over to her. “Just add mine.”
Diana picked it up and noticed a lock screen picture of Tilda against a crystal ocean and pink sunset in Haiti, holding a tropical drink and wearing an almost-obscene pink bikini. It was almost like he was rubbing it in her face. She quickly shoved the cell back over to him. “Just get my number from the kids, if you want it.”
He shrugged and put it away.
“Oh. Girls. Don’t text me. I don’t think my phone allows texts. Or if it does, I don’t think they can be very long.”
Suddenly, Tilda guffawed as she twirled her long hair around a finger. “Oh my gawd! That thing doesn’t even text? What’s it for, then?”
“It’s for people who have other priorities in life than their phones,” she replied tersely.
Tilda snorted and once again kicked her shin under the table. This time, Diana wasn’t so sure it was an accident. Now, her shin was practically bleeding, along with her ears, from Vidal’s painful laugh. As nice as it was to see the girls, she couldn’t take this anymore.
Diana finished her food and slipped her napkin off her lap. “You know, lovelies, I’ve had a great time, but—”
“Mommy, you’re not going!” Bea whined, sounding every bit four years old. “What about dessert? They have tiramisu!”
Diana shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really do have to go. I have an early morning tomorrow,” she lied. “Very busy.”
“Oh?” Evan wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Where are you headed?”
There was no way she was going to spill that information. She wasn’t sure what had happened here in Florence, but she wasn’t going to chance it happening again. “Just doing a little sightseeing.” She looked at the girls. “I’ll call you two later.”
Evan looked a bit shell-shocked. “What . . .” He motioned to Tilda to get up so that he could slide himself out. When she did, rather annoyed by the direction, he rose to his full height and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t leave so soon. We were having a nice night. And who knows . . . if you’re going to be in Europe for as long as you say, I might not see you again for a long, long time.”
Good, she thought, smiling up at him. “If you do, consider that serentiddity.”
Then she turned to walk out of the crowded restaurant. She had some serendipity of her own to arrange—and it involved a one-way ticket to Verona and the Shakespeare festival.
CHAPTER SIX
It was a beautiful night, warm and temperate, and the hotel wasn’t far away. Since Diana was wearing her sensible shoes—all she’d brought with her—she decided to walk it. As she traveled down the winding street, admiring the symmetry of the Elizabethan architecture in various edifices, she came upon a piazza with bowl-shaped lights and a fountain with a Roman goddess. The gardens sprang to life in the fading Tuscan sunlight, buzzing with fireflies and other insects. Across the street, from a corner café, romantic accordion music wafted through the air.
On the narrow walk, she navigated around couples, strolling arm-in-arm, and sighed.
Florence was nice, but yes. It would be nicer still to be in love here. To share this with someone who she cared about, who cared about her.
Night fell and the stars popped out as she meandered home, still thinking.
There was no doubt about it. Her family obviously still thought she was insane. She’d dropped everything—family, job, house, obligations—to come out here for a year. And though she often thought that she might’ve made a mistake, a big part of her believed that she was on a great quest, one that was not nearly complete.