Lucky Break by J. Minter Page B

Here,” he said, taking the box from the delivery boy. “It’s my daughter’s first time in Italy—she should have the first bite.”
    â€œYou know what they say.” the boy grinned. “One bite of Tony’s mozzarella and an American girl cannot help but fall in love.”
    With both my parents, the chauffeur, Alfonso the yacht captain, and the more-and-more-gorgeous-with-every-accented-word-he-said delivery boy all watching me, I nervously opened the box of pizza, picked up a wide floppy slice, and took a bite.
    Ohhhmygod. You grow up in the city and think you know a thing or two about good pizza. Then you go to Italy and your mind gets absolutely blown.
    â€œYou’re right,” I said to the delivery boy, my mouth still full of hot tomato sauce and cheese. “I think I am in love.”
    â€œSweetheart,” my dad said, putting his arm around me, “there’s more where that came from. Hop on the
Duchess
and we’ll see how many times you fall in love this week.”
    With those auspicious words, we waved good-bye to the pizza boy and the driver, and spread out on the top deck of the yacht. Alfonso came by to kiss both of my parents on both cheeks. When he was introducedto me, he wrapped me in his arms and kept saying the word
bellissima
.
    â€œItalian men have a soft spot for blondes,” my mom explained, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you’re going to get quite a lot of attention this week.”
    It was kind of unexpected to have strangers kissing me and showering me with compliments, but then again, in light of the Jony saga, maybe attention from strangers was exactly what I needed.
    A few minutes after Alfonso steered the yacht out of the Naples marina, he came by with a tray of sparkling water, olives, and a bowl of sliced citrus fruit, marinated in this sweet, tangy syrup.
    â€œSweet, sparkly, and a little bit salty,” he explained with a twinkling grin. “Just like we hope your trip will be in Italy.”
    The trip from Naples to Sorrento, the small coastal town where we were staying, took about forty-five minutes. My parents and I found spots to recline on the soft seats of the deck and closed our eyes. I could feel the warm sun beating down on us, but a cool ocean breeze kept it comfortable. And little by little, the noise from the marina was replaced with the lapping sounds of the sparkling Mediterranean.
    Before I knew it, we were docking again. When I opened my eyes this time, the view of Sorrento tookmy breath away. There were high stone walls leading up to the city, and orange trees in full bloom dotting almost every part of the coast. I could see umbrellas set up all along the waterfront and tables full of very stylish patrons enjoying a leisurely lunch.
    â€œI knew you’d love it here,” my dad said, grinning at my excited expression. “Just wait until you take a spin through town.”
    A crew arrived to transport our bags up the high stairs to where the large, private villa my parents had bought last year stood at the edge of the coastline. They’d been here several times since then, and I’d seen more than a few slide shows of photos from their travels, but nothing prepared me for the view when my parents opened up the French doors to the room where I’d be staying.
    â€œDo you think you can manage here for a week?” my mother asked, suddenly sounding nervous. “I hope it’s not too drafty. If we’d known you were coming sooner, I would have had them install another skylight, but—”
    â€œIt’s perfect,” I breathed.
    The cool stone tiles were the same golden color as the sun, which was now high in the sky. The bed faced the balcony, which looked out at the sea, which seemed to go on forever. From here, New York felt sofar away—and for the first time since we’d left the city, I was glad.
    â€œWe thought we’d have a relaxing day after all