Theodore colored, realizing he had spoken out of turn, and looked away.
“But I hope to,” Grace said. “Someday.” She dipped her fingers into the cold water of the lagoon. “Where should I go, if I had the choice?”
The gondolier smiled again. “Italy,” he said. “Venezia.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, smiling back. “Though this is likely the closest I will ever get.”
She said it without a hint of bitterness. Her future in Kansas City could still be a beautiful one. She would rather be there amid pleasant people who had big ideas and small pocketbooks than spend the rest of her life surrounded by people obsessed with nothing but class and money and the precise order of their forks.
“What is your name?” she asked the gondolier.
“Giorgio,” he said.
She felt Theodore’s eyes on her, watching her with curiosity, and perhaps a bit of surprise. Maybe he’d never seen people of lower classes interact with one another before.
“Tell me, Giorgio,” she said. “Do rich people in Italy seem to care an inordinate amount about the proper order of their cutlery?”
“Er,” he said, sweeping the oar with a quizzical look. “Cutlery?”
“Never mind,” she said, and Theodore snorted.
At least she could escape him soon. Beyond the final bend of the canal was a replica of a Spanish courtyard. Warm lights spilled across its cobblestone square and a neoclassical cathedral rose up behind it. Tables were set around a central fountain, where musicians milledaround playing a bandurria, castanets, an accordion, and a flamenco guitar.
Grace bent down to hide herself from her aunt and uncle’s gaze as their gondola floated past the party, and Theodore shot her a look of annoyance when her leg grazed his own—as if she had planned it. As if she were trying toseducehim. She wanted to tell him not to flatter himself, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. Instead, she drank in the scene, pretending that she really was in Spain. If she would never actually go, there was no harm in imagining it, was there? Guests in their finery were nursing glasses of vermouth or creamy lechemerengadatopped with cinnamon sticks. Some were perched on the fountain made from a mosaic of painted tiles, and there were colors and music everywhere, and ceramic pots spilling over with crimson carnations and pink roses. Grace was itching to leave the boat and find her cousins. Her heart soared. This night was already beyond her imagination. Thankfully the boats unloaded at a pier in the shadows so that she and Theodore were able to disembark without being seen.
“Thank you, Giorgio,” Grace said to the gondolier, and ignored Theodore’s perfunctory hand to step out of the boat. She marched toward Oliver, seething, and let herself be only slightly distracted by the hundreds of candles that flickered in a cascade of votives from the cathedral.
“Is that real?” she asked Oliver breathlessly, reminding herself that without him, she wouldn’t even be here.
“Drink?” he replied instead of answering, handing her a half-frozen lechemerengada. “They’re meant to be for dessert, but I couldn’t help myself.” He didn’t seem remotely apologetic about what he’d just put her through on the boat ride over. After all, she supposed, why would he? She’d never mentioned Theodore to him, and Theodore must nothave said anything about their encounter to him, either. Oliver looked radiantly happy as he clinked his glass with hers in celebration. “You look lovely,” he said to her, but his eyes were still on Harriet, who was making her way around the party. Grace relaxed a little, feeling her annoyance melt away. She would tell him the whole story later, at a time that wouldn’t ruin this night for either of them. For now, she’d just leave all thoughts of Theodore Parker behind and have as much fun as possible. She wanted to remember this week forever. She would drink deep of its intoxicating nectar, even if it hurt her all the more later.
“I absolutely insist you try this.” Lillie placed a small plate of citrus-marinated olives and impossibly thin strips ofjamóninto Grace’s hands.
“Just make sure to use the right fork,” Theo said under his breath, so that only Grace could hear.
“Oh, I can think of many good uses for this fork right now,” Grace retorted as they were ushered to a round table in the courtyard to sit down for dinner. There were large, vibrant clay plates set on a mosaic-patterned tablecloth. Oliver and Lillie were seated across the table. Grace’s name was scrawled in elegant script on a place card between a man named Earnest Allred and… Theodore Parker.
She sighed and swept into her chair, dejectedly eating an olive.
“Well, I suppose that’s two things I’ve never done before tonight,” a man said, taking his seat next to her.
“Arrive at dinner by gondola?” she asked, turning toward him and pointedly away from Theodore’s brooding presence.
“Visited fake Spain and had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” the man said. “I’m Earnest.” He extended a hand to her. “Allred.”
“I’m Grace,” she said, “Covington. I’m Oliver and Lillie Carter’s cousin,” she said clearly, so that Theodore could hear her—so that she could prove to him that she had nothing to hide.
Theodore cleared his throat into his water glass.
Grace examined Earnest as he said hello to Theodore and Harriet. He had strawberry blond hair, dimples like Oliver’s, and a friendly face. He seemed quick to laugh and was everything that Theodore wasn’t. As such, she took an instant liking to him.
The waiter lit the candles on the table and served them bowls of something he explained was calledsalmorejo.
“Your surname is Allred?” Grace asked Earnest, taking a bite of the soup. It was rich with cream and tomato, one of the most flavorful things she’d ever tasted. “You’re related to Frannie, then?”
“Her brother,” he clarified, stealing a look at where Frannie was engaged in conversation with Oliver. He made a knowing face at Grace. “I take it you’ve met?”
She smiled a little into her spoon as she took another bite of soup.
