Read Online Italy to Die For by Loretta Giacoletto - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Loretta Giacoletto
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problem?”
With that, Margo started to sob, her voice choking with the next words. “You must come back, right away as in today. It’s Giorgio, he’s … oh, El, he’s—”
“My god, he’s dead?”
“Worse than dead, we had a terrible fight, over how long to cook pasta, for god’s sake. Al dente, Giorgio kept saying, pointing to his teeth as if I were some kind of idiot. All I could think was … dental hygienist. He threw me out, literally, tossed my luggage down the stairs. The entire episode was too mortifying for words. I’m back in the lobby of our former pensione, trying to decide what to do.”
I glanced over to Lorenzo who was standing in the doorway. He raised his brow, a polite way of asking how he could help.
“Ellen, a re you there?” Margo all but shouted. “Say something, anything. Just don’t leave me stranded in Florence.”
Florence, not Firenze. Not a go od sign. Could Margo have been reverting to her American ways—on the verge of boredom and expecting an immediate rescue from me, her younger sister and presumed protector, the intelligent one who was supposed to have all the answers? I needed to pull myself together before making a commitment I might later regret.
“Uh, I’ll ha ve to call you back.”
Margo responded with her usual sigh, followed up with the click of her phone. Gone forever were those days when an angry response got double the mileage by slamming the phone onto its receiver.
“My sister ’s plans didn’t work out,” I told Lorenzo. “She’s stuck in Florence and has no one to play with.”
“Stuck in Florence?” He spread his arms in disbelief. “How can this be? No one gets stuck in Firenze , one of the most intriguing cities in all of Italy.”
“You’d have to know Margo—she’s really quite remarkable. In any case, it’s hardly worth her time to come here, even by train. So, I must decide whether to return to Florence or stick to my original plan—two more days between Cinque Terre and La Spezia before meeting her at the airport.”
“Of course the decision is yours, signorina—”
“Ellen, we agreed you’d call me Ellen.”
The tinge again, this time it crept across his cheeks. “In Italy we say Elena. Would you mind if I pronounced your name the Italian way?”
E-LAY -nah , the name had a certain quality, almost lyrical. “I suppose I could get used to … Elena. Yes, I rather like Elena”
“Good, then it’s settled. You will stay.”
“What about Margo?”
“As you said, it would hardly be worth her while to travel the distance. But you are already here and must not deny yourself the opportunity to enjoy Le Cinque Terre. It would be my pleasure to show you the villages. We could start this morning in Monterosso.”
Lorenzo had repeated an offer too tempting for me to resist. While he straightened up the breakfast clutter, I walked out to the balcony and called Margo again.
She answered immediately, her voice evoking the same desperation as before. “Thank god, El, I knew you’d come through for me.”
Som ehow whatever words I’d planned to say stopped short of my throat. Not one of them found the nerve to venture out.
“El , are you there? Please, no more games.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, released those shy words from my mouth like the rapid fire of a machine gun. “I’d like to help you but I fell yesterday and really can’t return to Florence.”
“You broke something, a foot, an ankle, a clavicle, what?”
“Yesterday I was involved in a horrific … incident. Not to worry, I only bruised my hip and thigh,” I paused, gave thought to my next words before speaking them with a catch in my voice. “I know, I know, I should’ve seen a doctor but decided to tough it out—big mistake.”
“You’ve seen a lawyer?”
“You forget we’re in Italy. Today every inch of me is so stiff I can hardly move.”
“And every day will just get worse, trust me , I’ve been there. Healing takes time so don’t
With that, Margo started to sob, her voice choking with the next words. “You must come back, right away as in today. It’s Giorgio, he’s … oh, El, he’s—”
“My god, he’s dead?”
“Worse than dead, we had a terrible fight, over how long to cook pasta, for god’s sake. Al dente, Giorgio kept saying, pointing to his teeth as if I were some kind of idiot. All I could think was … dental hygienist. He threw me out, literally, tossed my luggage down the stairs. The entire episode was too mortifying for words. I’m back in the lobby of our former pensione, trying to decide what to do.”
I glanced over to Lorenzo who was standing in the doorway. He raised his brow, a polite way of asking how he could help.
“Ellen, a re you there?” Margo all but shouted. “Say something, anything. Just don’t leave me stranded in Florence.”
Florence, not Firenze. Not a go od sign. Could Margo have been reverting to her American ways—on the verge of boredom and expecting an immediate rescue from me, her younger sister and presumed protector, the intelligent one who was supposed to have all the answers? I needed to pull myself together before making a commitment I might later regret.
“Uh, I’ll ha ve to call you back.”
Margo responded with her usual sigh, followed up with the click of her phone. Gone forever were those days when an angry response got double the mileage by slamming the phone onto its receiver.
“My sister ’s plans didn’t work out,” I told Lorenzo. “She’s stuck in Florence and has no one to play with.”
“Stuck in Florence?” He spread his arms in disbelief. “How can this be? No one gets stuck in Firenze , one of the most intriguing cities in all of Italy.”
“You’d have to know Margo—she’s really quite remarkable. In any case, it’s hardly worth her time to come here, even by train. So, I must decide whether to return to Florence or stick to my original plan—two more days between Cinque Terre and La Spezia before meeting her at the airport.”
“Of course the decision is yours, signorina—”
“Ellen, we agreed you’d call me Ellen.”
The tinge again, this time it crept across his cheeks. “In Italy we say Elena. Would you mind if I pronounced your name the Italian way?”
E-LAY -nah , the name had a certain quality, almost lyrical. “I suppose I could get used to … Elena. Yes, I rather like Elena”
“Good, then it’s settled. You will stay.”
“What about Margo?”
“As you said, it would hardly be worth her while to travel the distance. But you are already here and must not deny yourself the opportunity to enjoy Le Cinque Terre. It would be my pleasure to show you the villages. We could start this morning in Monterosso.”
Lorenzo had repeated an offer too tempting for me to resist. While he straightened up the breakfast clutter, I walked out to the balcony and called Margo again.
She answered immediately, her voice evoking the same desperation as before. “Thank god, El, I knew you’d come through for me.”
Som ehow whatever words I’d planned to say stopped short of my throat. Not one of them found the nerve to venture out.
“El , are you there? Please, no more games.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, released those shy words from my mouth like the rapid fire of a machine gun. “I’d like to help you but I fell yesterday and really can’t return to Florence.”
“You broke something, a foot, an ankle, a clavicle, what?”
“Yesterday I was involved in a horrific … incident. Not to worry, I only bruised my hip and thigh,” I paused, gave thought to my next words before speaking them with a catch in my voice. “I know, I know, I should’ve seen a doctor but decided to tough it out—big mistake.”
“You’ve seen a lawyer?”
“You forget we’re in Italy. Today every inch of me is so stiff I can hardly move.”
“And every day will just get worse, trust me , I’ve been there. Healing takes time so don’t
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