“Mine too. So, black-and-white skirt?”
“Black-and-white skirt. You’ll thank me later. And call me as soon as you’re home. I want to talk more about the journal. I think I’m going to hire a film crew to start following you around. Your life would make awesome TV.”
“Lina! Dinner is ready.”
I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d gone against Addie’s advice and settled on my favorite jeans. And I was way too nervous to eat.
I guess there’s a first for everything.
“Did you hear me?” Howard called.
“Coming!”
I put on some lip gloss and smoothed my hair one last time. I’d had to spend a solid forty-five minutes with a flat iron, but at least now my hair looked like a normal person’s. Not that that was any sort of guarantee. If someone looked at it funny, it would assume its natural craziness in about half a second. You’re sort of like Medusa, Addie had once told me helpfully.
Howard met me at the bottom of the stairs and handed me a giant bowl of pasta. I could tell he was making a big effort to make things feel less tense, and so far it was working.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry about dinner being so late. We had an issue with maintenance. I thought I was going to be working all night.”
“That’s okay.” I set my bowl down. “And thanks for dinner, but I’m actually not all that hungry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not hungry? How many miles did you run today?”
“Seven.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I guess I’m kind of nervous.”
“I understand. Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking. But they’re going to love you.”
BEEP! We both looked out the window to see Ren driving up the road on a shiny red scooter. My stomach clenched. Why did I agree to go? Was it still possible to get out of it?
“That’s the Ferrara boy?”
“Yes.”
“He’s early. He’s not taking you on that scooter, is he?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I shot Howard a hopeful glance. Maybe he’d say I couldn’t go! That would solve everything. Except, are brand-new fathers allowed to tell you what you can and can’t do?
Howard crossed the living room in three long strides, then opened the door. “Lorenzo?”
I hurried after him.
“Hi, Howard. Hi, Lina.” Ren was wearing jeans and expensive-looking sneakers. He pulled the scooter back onto a kickstand, then bounded up the stairs, his hand extended to Howard. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. I’m really sorry about the mix-up on the phone earlier. I had you confused with someone else.”
“That’s okay. I’m just glad to know you’re not going to come after me with a chainsaw anymore.”
Oh, boy. Howard was really taking his new role seriously.
“Lina, you ready to go?” Ren asked.
“Um, I think so. Howard?” I looked at him hopefully. He was eyeing Ren’s scooter, his face grim.
“You been driving that thing for a while?”
“Since I was fourteen. I’m a really safe driver.”
“And you have an extra helmet?”
“Of course.”
Howard nodded slowly. “All right. Drive carefully. Especially on the way back.” He tilted his head toward me. “è nervosa. Stalle vicino.”
“Si, certo.”
“Um, excuse me. What was that?” I asked.
“Man talk,” Ren said. “Come on. We’re missing the party.”
Howard handed me his cell phone and a twenty-euro bill. “Take this, just in case. The cemetery’s number is in there. If I don’t answer, Sonia will. What time will you be home?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can have her back whenever,” Ren said.
“Let’s say one.”
I looked at him. One? He must really want me to make friends.
Howard settled himself on the porch swing and I followed Ren to his scooter, where he handed me a helmet from the compartment under the seat.
“Ready?” Ren asked.
“Ready.” I clambered awkwardly onto the back, and suddenly Ren and I were zipping down the road, cool air flowing past us. I grabbed tight around Ren’s waist, grinning like an idiot. It was like riding on a motorized armchair, superfast and supercomfortable. I glanced back to see Howard watching from the porch.
“Why do you call him ‘Howard’?” Ren shouted over the noise of the scooter.
“What else would I call him?”
“?‘Dad’?”
“No way. I haven’t known him long enough.”
“You haven’t?”
“Just . . . long story.” I quickly changed the subject. “Where’s the party?”
He paused to signal at the main road, then turned away from Florence. “At my friend Elena’s house. We always go there because she has the biggest house. Her mom is a descendant of the Medici, and they have this giant villa. You can always tell when Elena’s had too much to drink because she starts telling people that back in the day they would have been her servants.”
“What’s the Medici?”
“Really powerful Florentine family. They basically funded the Renaissance.”
I had a sudden image of a teenage girl in flowing robes. “Did I dress up enough?”