The Juliet Club by Suzanne Harper

asked. Even though Kate was concentrating fiercely on listening to the tour guide, she noticed that his English, spoken with a British accent, was quite good.
    â€œ Si, I mean yes,” Lucy said. “I’m from Jackson, Mississippi. I’m Lucy.”
    â€œ Piacere .” Pleased to meet you. “My name is Giacomo.”
    â€œGiacomo.” From the lilt in Lucy’s voice, Kate knew, even without glancing over, that Lucy was smiling and blushing. Kate’s eyes slid sideways just as Giacomo glanced over at her. Embarrassed, she looked away, but then she couldn’t help herself. She looked back.
    He winked at her.
    She stuck her nose in the air and, as pointedly as she could, turned back to listen to the tour guide.
    But at that moment the tour guide was ending her spiel. Her shoulders slumped, her voice listless, she finished by saying, without much hope, “If you would like to continue the tour inside Juliet’s House, the admission fee is only four euros.”
    Despite this warm invitation, the crowd began to disperse. Apparently, most people decided that, having seen the famous balcony for free, they had no need to spend money to see the rooms inside. Kate left Lucy, who was clearly enthralled by her new acquaintance, went inside to pay for her ticket, and climbed the narrow staircase to the first floor.
    At least it was much calmer inside and quieter, too. She wandered through surprisingly spare rooms with bare wooden floors and plain walls decorated with an occasional fresco. There was a fireplace with logs neatly stacked, as if ready for Juliet’s father (or servant, more likely) to set them ablaze. There was a heavy wooden chair ready for Juliet’s mother (or nurse, more likely) to sit down and take up some darning. And there was a door leading out to the balcony, ready for Juliet to step through and address the gentle, loving night.
    The rooms looked like an empty stage set, waiting for the actors to appear and bring the world to life. Except that understudies had apparently taken over the scene, and they were obviously ill rehearsed for their roles.
    For example, the two teens who were now standing on the balcony. They giggled and waved to their friends below as if they were on a homecoming parade float.
    â€œRomeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” one of the girls called out in a silly, high-pitched voice.
    Kate shook her head and turned away just in time to see Lucy and the boy from the courtyard enter the room, their heads bent toward each other, laughing. Quickly, she climbed the stairs to the next floor where more tourists were milling about, taking snapshots of the fireplace andirons and reading the informational placards out loud to one another.
    Sighing, Kate ducked into a side room that was blessedly free of other people. And, in fact, there weren’t many things to see except two glass cases displaying costumes for Romeo and Juliet, and a bed.
    Actually, it was The Bed.
    Then Kate read a sign on the wall and discovered that, far from being an antique, it was actually a movie prop from the 1968 film adaptation of Romeo and Juliet . Kate made a face at the bed and climbed the stairs to the next floor.
    As she was taking a closer look at a fresco on the landing, she heard Lucy’s breathless voice float up from the floor below.
    â€œOh, look! Is that—?”
    â€œYes. The very bed where Juliet slept,” he assured her.
    Honestly. The sign made it quite clear the bed was a fake—
    â€œIt’s pretty small, isn’t it?” asked Lucy, the daughter of the South’s Sofabed King. “You’d think Juliet would have had at least a queen.”
    Kate shook her head at that. It didn’t help when she heard him laugh as if Lucy was the soul of wit.
    â€œWell, people were smaller then,” he said solemnly. “Juliet was probably quite petite. About your size, I imagine.”
    Worse and worse! Annoyed, Kate cleared her