I nodded, then set my backpack on the nearest chair before practically fleeing the room. The bathroom was miniature, barely big enough for a toilet and a sink, and I ran the water as hot as I could stand it, scrubbing the airport off my hands with a chip of soap from the edge of the sink.
While I scrubbed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and groaned. I looked like I’d been dragged through three different time zones. Which, to be fair, I had. My normally tan skin was pale and yellowish-looking, and I had dark circles under my eyes. And my hair. It had finally figured out a way to defy the laws of physics. I wet both my hands and tried to smash down my curls, but it seemed to only encourage them. Finally I gave up. So what if I looked like a hedgehog who’d discovered Red Bull? Fathers are supposed to accept you as you are, right?
Music started up outside the bathroom and my nervousness kindled from a flame to a bonfire. Did I really need to eat dinner? Maybe I could go hide out in a room somewhere while I processed this whole cemetery thing. Or didn’t process it. But then my stomach roared in protest and ugh. I did have to eat.
“There she is,” Howard said, getting to his feet as I walked into the dining room. The table was set with a red-checkered cloth, and an old rock song I sort of recognized was playing from an iPod next to the entryway. I slid into the chair opposite them, and Howard sat down too.
“I hope you’re hungry. Sonia’s such a great cook, I think she missed her calling in life.” Now that it wasn’t just the two of us, he sounded way more relaxed.
Sonia beamed. “No way. I was destined for life at the memorial.”
“It does look good.” And by “good,” I meant amazing. A steaming pan of lasagna sat next to a basket of thickly sliced garlic bread, and there was a salad bowl piled high with tomatoes and crisp-looking lettuce. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to dive right onto the table.
Sonia cut into the lasagna, placing a big gooey square right in the center of my plate. “Help yourself to bread and salad. Buon appetito.”
“Buon appetito,” Howard echoed.
“Buon appe . . . something,” I mumbled.
The second everyone was served, I picked up my fork and attacked my lasagna. I knew I probably looked like a wild mastodon, but after a full day of nothing but airline food, I couldn’t help myself. Those portions were miniature. When I finally came up for air, Sonia and Howard were both staring at me, Howard looking mildly horrified.
“So, Lina, what kinds of things do you like to do?” Sonia asked.
I grabbed my napkin. “Besides scare people with my table manners?”
Howard chuckled. “Your grandmother told me you love running. She said you average about forty miles a week, and you’re hoping to run in college.”
“Well, that explains the appetite.” Sonia scooped up another piece, and I gratefully held out my plate. “Do you run at school?”
“I used to. I was on the varsity cross-country team, but I forfeited my spot after we found out.”
They both just looked at me.
“. . . When we found out about the cancer? Practice took up a lot of time, and I didn’t want to leave town for all the meets and stuff.”
Howard nodded. “I think the cemetery is a great place for a runner. Lots of space, and nice smooth roads. I used to run here all the time. Before I got fat and lazy.”
Sonia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You couldn’t get fat if you tried.” She nudged the basket of garlic bread toward me. “Did you know that your mother and I were friends? She was lovely. So talented and lively.”
Nope, didn’t tell me that, either. Was it possible I was falling prey to some elaborate kidnapping scheme? Would kidnappers feed you two pieces of the best lasagna you’d ever had? And if pressed, would they give you the recipe?
Howard cleared his throat, snapping me back to the conversation. “Sorry. Um, no. She never mentioned you.”
Sonia nodded, her face expressionless, and Howard glanced at her, then back at me. “You’re probably feeling pretty tired. Is there anyone you want to get in touch with? I messaged your grandmother when your plane arrived, but you’re welcome to give her a call. I have an international plan on my cell phone.”
“Can I call Addie?”
“Is that the friend you were living with?”
“Yeah. But I have my laptop. I could just use FaceTime instead.”
“That might not work tonight. Italy isn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology, and our Internet connection has been pretty slow all day. Someone’s coming by to take a look at it tomorrow, but in the meantime you can just use my phone.”
“Thanks.”
He pushed back from the table. “Would anyone like some wine?”
“Yes, please,” Sonia said.
“Lina?”
“Uh . . . I’m kind of underage.”
He smiled. “Italy doesn’t have a drinking age, so I guess it’s a little different around here. But no pressure either way.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Be right back.” He headed for the kitchen.