thing now,” Stuart said. “I know you’re anxious to see Father Corletti. Why don’t we go to Forza first?”
From behind Stuart, Allie’s eyes went wide. I looked down, focusing on pushing the stroller on the uneven street without injuring my son, myself, or an unsuspecting pedestrian.
“No can do,” I said, once again displaying my amazing skill at the deceitful arts. “I called while you were napping. He’s booked solid until later. And this works out great. Allie wants to shop, and we all need to eat.” And, now that I thought more about it, the longer I put off seeing Father, the more likely I would have heard from Laura about Thomas Duvall. Always nice when your manipulation and deception actually serves a legitimate purpose.
We turned the corner and paused, taking in the site of the white stone marketplace and the quaint shops covered by a smattering of flowering vines. Home . It hit me right in the gut, and I reached out automatically for Stuart’s hand. It was right there, and he held me tight, twining his fingers in mine.
“I never even came here that often,” I admitted. “But it’s just—”
“You’ve missed it.”
“Yeah,” I said. I raised myself up on my toes and kissed him. Truth was, I missed more than just Rome. “I love you, you know.”
He met my eyes and held them a beat longer than I expected. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”
“Guys,” Allie said. “Seriously? This is a vacation, not a honeymoon. Two kids with you, remember? Can we get on to the good stuff?”
I laughed. “And that would be?”
“Duh. The clothes. I mean, look. There. Right there .” She was pointing to a leather goods store two doors down, and I knew immediately what had drawn her attention—a very stealthy looking black jacket hanging limply on a too-skinny mannequin in the store window. “Can we?”
I considered. “Tell you what. Tim and I will head to the market and get some things for lunch,” I said, referring to the Trionfale market. “There are tables over there, see? Meet me there in half an hour and we’ll eat.”
“Better idea,” Stuart said. “I’ll endure the trauma of clothes shopping while you get the food, and then we’ll take a picnic lunch to the Trevi fountain.”
“Oh, can we, Mom?” Allie asked.
I consulted a mental map. The subway station wasn’t far. And we had bought a stroller for easy traveling. And Stuart had spent all those hours highlighting his guide book. . .
“Sure,” I said. “Thirty minutes? Right here?” We’d paused by an ornate fountain.
“Roger,” Stuart said and saluted.
I rolled my eyes. “Watch your wallets,” I admonished, looking at both of them in turn. “From pickpockets and,” I added, focusing on Stuart, “from overeager teenagers who will undoubtedly fall in love with the first jacket they see.”
“I hear Rome is overflowing with that type,” he said, then waved me off. Allie was at the shop door before I’d even gotten Timmy’s stroller turned around.
“Okay, kid. It’s you and me.”
“I hungry,” he said, then shoved Boo Bear’s ear into his mouth and bit down. I frowned. Not because the bear was filthy and my child was in danger of contracting impetigo (whatever the heck that was) or some other dread disease. But because I knew better than to let the bear leave a hotel room. But it was too late now. We were just going to have to be extra, extra careful.
One close call with a stuffed friend was one too many, and I doubted that if we lost the bear again that there’d be another nice friendly demon around to help us.
The market really was amazing—filled to the brim with booths and stations selling every manner of cheese, meats, fruits, vegetables, breads, pasta, coffee and on and on and on. I made a mental note to bring Allie and Stuart back, especially in light of Allie’s newly implemented all-natural, all-the-time eating regimen, which I expected to last at least until she found a
From behind Stuart, Allie’s eyes went wide. I looked down, focusing on pushing the stroller on the uneven street without injuring my son, myself, or an unsuspecting pedestrian.
“No can do,” I said, once again displaying my amazing skill at the deceitful arts. “I called while you were napping. He’s booked solid until later. And this works out great. Allie wants to shop, and we all need to eat.” And, now that I thought more about it, the longer I put off seeing Father, the more likely I would have heard from Laura about Thomas Duvall. Always nice when your manipulation and deception actually serves a legitimate purpose.
We turned the corner and paused, taking in the site of the white stone marketplace and the quaint shops covered by a smattering of flowering vines. Home . It hit me right in the gut, and I reached out automatically for Stuart’s hand. It was right there, and he held me tight, twining his fingers in mine.
“I never even came here that often,” I admitted. “But it’s just—”
“You’ve missed it.”
“Yeah,” I said. I raised myself up on my toes and kissed him. Truth was, I missed more than just Rome. “I love you, you know.”
He met my eyes and held them a beat longer than I expected. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”
“Guys,” Allie said. “Seriously? This is a vacation, not a honeymoon. Two kids with you, remember? Can we get on to the good stuff?”
I laughed. “And that would be?”
“Duh. The clothes. I mean, look. There. Right there .” She was pointing to a leather goods store two doors down, and I knew immediately what had drawn her attention—a very stealthy looking black jacket hanging limply on a too-skinny mannequin in the store window. “Can we?”
I considered. “Tell you what. Tim and I will head to the market and get some things for lunch,” I said, referring to the Trionfale market. “There are tables over there, see? Meet me there in half an hour and we’ll eat.”
“Better idea,” Stuart said. “I’ll endure the trauma of clothes shopping while you get the food, and then we’ll take a picnic lunch to the Trevi fountain.”
“Oh, can we, Mom?” Allie asked.
I consulted a mental map. The subway station wasn’t far. And we had bought a stroller for easy traveling. And Stuart had spent all those hours highlighting his guide book. . .
“Sure,” I said. “Thirty minutes? Right here?” We’d paused by an ornate fountain.
“Roger,” Stuart said and saluted.
I rolled my eyes. “Watch your wallets,” I admonished, looking at both of them in turn. “From pickpockets and,” I added, focusing on Stuart, “from overeager teenagers who will undoubtedly fall in love with the first jacket they see.”
“I hear Rome is overflowing with that type,” he said, then waved me off. Allie was at the shop door before I’d even gotten Timmy’s stroller turned around.
“Okay, kid. It’s you and me.”
“I hungry,” he said, then shoved Boo Bear’s ear into his mouth and bit down. I frowned. Not because the bear was filthy and my child was in danger of contracting impetigo (whatever the heck that was) or some other dread disease. But because I knew better than to let the bear leave a hotel room. But it was too late now. We were just going to have to be extra, extra careful.
One close call with a stuffed friend was one too many, and I doubted that if we lost the bear again that there’d be another nice friendly demon around to help us.
The market really was amazing—filled to the brim with booths and stations selling every manner of cheese, meats, fruits, vegetables, breads, pasta, coffee and on and on and on. I made a mental note to bring Allie and Stuart back, especially in light of Allie’s newly implemented all-natural, all-the-time eating regimen, which I expected to last at least until she found a
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