intoxicating I welcomed the strange headiness overtaking my lagging brain as we walked upward through the marketplace and beyond.
“One can never have too many of the limoni ,” he said.
Sure but for what, I wanted to ask but needed the oxygen to preserve my remaining energy. Just a little longer I told myself when we entered a residential area of more pastel-colored buildings, apartments, narrow and stucco-covered, with green shutters flanking most windows and underneath those windows, magenta and pink flowers spilling over their boxes. When we reached a curve in the street that brought me to the verge of collapsing, I heard Lorenzo announce we had arrived. Almost but not quite, that is. I followed Lorenzo up three steep flights of stairs before we entered his apartment. The obligatory walk-around revealed antiques more rustic but every bit as charming as those in his La Spezia villa, plus a small balcony overlooking the street I’d struggled to climb only moments before. My view to the distant bluer-than-blue sea bowled me over now that the sun had made its appearance.
“Words can’t do justice to this ,” I said. “How many apartments are in the building?”
“At the present mine is the only one occupied. I plan to have the other two renovated.”
“ You must be very busy. Are you sure I’m not imposing on you?”
Lorenzo’s ears turned red agai n, rather un-macho for a full-fledged Italian or so I’d been told. According to Margo, some quirk in the DNA of Italian men made them incapable of blushing. He handed me two door keys and explained one was for the outer door, the other for his apartment.
“Please, signorina, consider my house as your house. You will find bread, cheese, fruit, and wine in the kitchen. I will take care of my business and should return around six.”
“Me too, I intend to go sightseeing this afternoon.”
His smile indicated he didn’t believe me, but what did he know. “In that case I suggest you take a taxi to the Church of San Giovanni Battista … very near to where we had coffee earlier today. From there it will be an easy stroll around the immediate area. Later, around seven or so, we can meet on the boardwalk.”
“ The boardwalk?” I asked, picturing an Atlantic City I hadn’t seen.
“Si, the concrete walkway above the seawall beach, you passed through it earlier today after getting off the boat.”
No wonder I didn’t remember it.
“From there decide on a place to eat and enjoy the incredible sunset,” Lorenzo said. “You will not be disappointed.”
Lorenzo’s words seemed more commanding than inviting but I didn’t care enough to object. As soon as he left, I eased my aching bones onto the nearest bed and released myself to sleep—and from there to endless dreams about spiteful gypsies, obnoxious cats, and deranged wives. The Evil Eye was chasing me through the pages of a Gothic novel when I heard a distant voice urging me back to the real world. I bolted upright, let out a scream, and flopped back onto the bed.
That’s when I saw Lorenzo standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face. “It is six o’clock, signorina. Did you go out earlier?”
Earlier, what earlier, I brushed the cobwebs from my brain before speaking. “Oh, crap, I must’ve slept the hours away. How dreadful—an entire day in Monterosso wasted.”
“Ah-h, but the hour of sunset will make up for any pleasure you may have lost through a much needed rest. I know a marvelous place where we can dine, one not too far and a comfortable walk downhill. After dinner, we can take a taxi back here before driving to my villa.”
“Sure, just give me a minute to freshen up.” I rolled to my side, only to stop from the stiffening pain that prevented me from moving any further.
“Or, we could have dinner here,” he said. “And watch the same sunset from the convenience of my balcony.”
I gestured a ‘whatever’ with eyes closed and let several minutes pass before willing
“One can never have too many of the limoni ,” he said.
Sure but for what, I wanted to ask but needed the oxygen to preserve my remaining energy. Just a little longer I told myself when we entered a residential area of more pastel-colored buildings, apartments, narrow and stucco-covered, with green shutters flanking most windows and underneath those windows, magenta and pink flowers spilling over their boxes. When we reached a curve in the street that brought me to the verge of collapsing, I heard Lorenzo announce we had arrived. Almost but not quite, that is. I followed Lorenzo up three steep flights of stairs before we entered his apartment. The obligatory walk-around revealed antiques more rustic but every bit as charming as those in his La Spezia villa, plus a small balcony overlooking the street I’d struggled to climb only moments before. My view to the distant bluer-than-blue sea bowled me over now that the sun had made its appearance.
“Words can’t do justice to this ,” I said. “How many apartments are in the building?”
“At the present mine is the only one occupied. I plan to have the other two renovated.”
“ You must be very busy. Are you sure I’m not imposing on you?”
Lorenzo’s ears turned red agai n, rather un-macho for a full-fledged Italian or so I’d been told. According to Margo, some quirk in the DNA of Italian men made them incapable of blushing. He handed me two door keys and explained one was for the outer door, the other for his apartment.
“Please, signorina, consider my house as your house. You will find bread, cheese, fruit, and wine in the kitchen. I will take care of my business and should return around six.”
“Me too, I intend to go sightseeing this afternoon.”
His smile indicated he didn’t believe me, but what did he know. “In that case I suggest you take a taxi to the Church of San Giovanni Battista … very near to where we had coffee earlier today. From there it will be an easy stroll around the immediate area. Later, around seven or so, we can meet on the boardwalk.”
“ The boardwalk?” I asked, picturing an Atlantic City I hadn’t seen.
“Si, the concrete walkway above the seawall beach, you passed through it earlier today after getting off the boat.”
No wonder I didn’t remember it.
“From there decide on a place to eat and enjoy the incredible sunset,” Lorenzo said. “You will not be disappointed.”
Lorenzo’s words seemed more commanding than inviting but I didn’t care enough to object. As soon as he left, I eased my aching bones onto the nearest bed and released myself to sleep—and from there to endless dreams about spiteful gypsies, obnoxious cats, and deranged wives. The Evil Eye was chasing me through the pages of a Gothic novel when I heard a distant voice urging me back to the real world. I bolted upright, let out a scream, and flopped back onto the bed.
That’s when I saw Lorenzo standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face. “It is six o’clock, signorina. Did you go out earlier?”
Earlier, what earlier, I brushed the cobwebs from my brain before speaking. “Oh, crap, I must’ve slept the hours away. How dreadful—an entire day in Monterosso wasted.”
“Ah-h, but the hour of sunset will make up for any pleasure you may have lost through a much needed rest. I know a marvelous place where we can dine, one not too far and a comfortable walk downhill. After dinner, we can take a taxi back here before driving to my villa.”
“Sure, just give me a minute to freshen up.” I rolled to my side, only to stop from the stiffening pain that prevented me from moving any further.
“Or, we could have dinner here,” he said. “And watch the same sunset from the convenience of my balcony.”
I gestured a ‘whatever’ with eyes closed and let several minutes pass before willing
Similar Books
