I stepped sideways, putting an extra six inches between us. “Sorry, but I really need to take a shower. Maybe some other time?”
“Oh.” ?The space between her eyebrows creased. “Sure. Just let me know when you have a minute. Actually, I could just—”
“Thanks a lot. See you around.”
I broke into a jog, Sonia’s gaze heavy on my back. I didn’t want to be rude, but I also really didn’t want whatever it was she had for me. People were always giving me things that belonged to my mother—especially photographs—and I never knew what to do with them. They were like souvenirs of my previous life.
I looked out over the cemetery and sighed. It’s not like I needed any more reminders that things had changed.
Chapter 4
AS SOON AS I GOT inside I headed straight for the kitchen. I had a feeling that if asked, Howard would give the standard mi casa, su casa speech—probably with Italian pronunciation—so I skipped the asking and went straight to raiding the fridge.
The top two shelves of the refrigerator were packed with things like olives and gourmet mustards—stuff that makes food taste good, but isn’t actually food—so I rifled through the drawers, finally coming up with a carton of what looked like coconut yogurt and a thick loaf of bread. I was pretty much devastated to not find any lasagna leftovers.
After devouring half the bread and practically licking the bottom of the yogurt carton (hands down the best yogurt I’ve ever had), I looked through the cupboards until I found a box of granola that said CIOCCOLATO. Jackpot. Chocolate spoke to me in any language.
I ate a huge bowl of the granola, then cleaned the kitchen like a crime scene. Now what? Well, if I were still in Seattle I would probably be getting ready to go to the pool with Addie or maybe pulling my bike out of the garage and demanding we go get one of those triple chocolate shakes I pretty much lived on. But here? I didn’t even have the Internet.
“Shower,” I said aloud. Something to do. And besides, I really needed one.
I went upstairs and grabbed the stack of towels from my bedroom, then went into the bathroom. It was incredibly clean, like maybe Howard scrubbed it every week with bleach. Maybe that was the reason he and my mom hadn’t worked out. She’d been unbelievably messy. Like once I’d found a Tupperware of pasta on her desk that had been sitting so long it had turned blue. Blue.
I pulled back the shower curtain but had no idea what to do next. The showerhead was tiny and flimsy-looking and underneath it were two nozzles that read C and F.
“Cold and frigid? Chilly and frosty?”
I turned on the F and let it run for a few seconds, but when I put my hand under the stream it was still ice-cold. Okay. So maybe C?
Exact same results, maybe half a degree warmer. I groaned. Were freezing showers part of what Howard had meant when he’d said Italy wasn’t on the cutting edge of technology? And what choice did I have? I’d traveled for a full day and then done one of the hardest speed workouts of my life. I had to shower.
“When in Rome.” I gritted my teeth and jumped in. “Cold! Cold! Ahh!”
I grabbed a bottle of something off the edge of the tub and rubbed it over my hair and body, rinsing and jumping out of there as fast as I could. Then I grabbed the entire stack of towels and started wrapping myself up like a mummy.
There was a knock on the door and I froze. Again. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Sonia. Are you . . . all right in there?”
I grimaced. “Um, yeah. Just having some water issues. Does this place not have hot water?”
“We do, it just takes a while. At my house I sometimes have to let the water run for a good ten minutes before its ready. C stands for ‘caldo.’ It means ‘hot.’?”
I shook my head. “Good to know.”
“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you again, but I just wanted to tell you that I left the journal on your bed.”
I froze. The journal?? Wait, I’d probably just misheard her. Maybe she’d said “the gerbil.” A gerbil would be a totally thoughtful gift. And if I were giving someone a gerbil I would definitely put it—
“Lina . . . did you hear me? I brought you a journal that—”
“Just a minute,” I said loudly. Okay, she’d definitely said “journal.” But that didn’t mean it was any journal in particular. People gave each other journals all the time. I quickly dried off and got dressed. When I opened the door Sonia was standing in the hallway holding a potted plant.
“You got me a new journal?” I asked hopefully.
“Well, an old one. It’s a notebook that belonged to your mother.”
I slumped against the doorway. “You mean like a big leather one with lots of writing and photographs?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what it’s like.” Her forehead scrunched up. “Is it something you’ve already looked at?”