“I reminded her that everyone in the Cinque Terre has a close relationship with Lorenzo and my family. No person would believe any of her falsehoods. I warned her that if she had the audacity to try any further funny business, I’d ring the police myself.”
Nora is fearless, wise, and a natural born leader. She’s so protective of her family.
Sabrina placed her hands on top of her head. They sat in silence for several moments, each lost in thought. She stared out the window. The electric hum of the train and buzz of muted conversations around them served as background noise.
“I can’t apologize enough to you, Sabrina.”
“You don’t owe me any sort of apology. We both broke down.” Sabrina furrowed her brow. “Everything that happened today was more of a matter of circumstance than anything else.”
Lorenzo and I both clearly have a lot of demons in our past we need to work through
Sabrina steepled her fingers against the armrest of her seat. “Nora, I’ve hit the maximum of what I can mentally endure. I feel like Lizzy when she received Jane’s letter about Lydia running off to elope with Mr. Wickham. I need space and time to heal and process today’s events. Can we please change subjects?”
Nora dipped her head and breathed deeply. “Si. Of course.” She repositioned the dining-tray table and opened her laptop. Her face was illuminated by the backlight of the computer screen. “I’ve been working on the outline of my first non-Austen Regency romance novel. Which trope sounds more appealing to you? Penniless, country-born girl who is taken in and raised by a rich aunt, or a penniless natural child who suddenly inherits a windfall?”
Sabrina closed her eyes and relaxed against the seat. “Neither. I would write about a lady whose reputation is accidentally compromised and must marry immediately to avoid scandal.”
Nora typed, and without looking up from her screen, asked, “And would said gentleman who offers for her be a rake?”
Sabrina shook her head. “Save the ‘reforming the rake’ plot for your next novel. The gentleman can be the friend of the sister or something along those lines.”
Nora snapped her fingers together. “Brava. That will work perfectly. I’ll have him seeking out ways in which he might be able to escape the marriage mart and all the matchmaking mamas.”
Sabrina opened her eyes and sat up taller. “And are you going to give him a title? Or just make him rich?”
Nora cracked her knuckles. “Both. I was thinking of creating a backstory similar to Darcy. Lord Malcolm, as I’ve named him, has tragically suffered the loss of both his parents and is the sole guardian of a younger sister. He knows he must marry to do his duty by producing an heir, but he also is seeking a wife who will befriend his sister and guide her through the Season.”
They continued brainstorming until the announcement came over the loudspeaker that the train was approaching the Santa Maria Novella train station.
Sabrina stretched; her body was stiff from sitting still in one position too long.
Nora glanced out the window. “We should be arriving in five minutes. I would start gathering up your belongings now. The train won’t stay at the station long.”
“How far is your apartment from the station?”
Nora winked. “It’s a ten-minute walk. Florence is a pedestrian’s dream. You can reach all of the best sites and museums in the city within fifteen minutes. The city was built up around them.”
* * *
Exiting the main train station of Florence, they walked the short distance through a series of narrow alleys. Sabrina’s head darted every which direction, studying the red-, copper-, and cream-toned Florentine buildings. She could see the outline of Brunelleschi’s famed dome and a stunning outline of the city hall clock tower. Her mood instantly improved.
I am literally walking through the city that gave rise to the Renaissance. There is so much history, art, and culture present. What if Michelangelo traversed the same pathway as we are on now?
Nora grabbed hold of Sabrina’s hand and dragged her across a busy intersection near Piazza Carlo Goldoni. Vespa scooters honked. “Sorry about that. The Vespas think they always have the right of way. They will either try to speed up to beat you crossing in front of them or maintain their speed to go around you.”
Did the Medici, the powerful ruling family of medieval Florence, commission that statue? What would Jane have thought if she had taken a Grand Tour through Europe? Would she have considered setting a novel in Italy?
Sabrina was so lost in thought that she didn’t fully register what Nora was explaining, nor where she was heading.
“I wanted to show you this. It is not quite the Ponte Vecchio, but the view is very similar. We are two bridges up,” Nora said.
Sabrina gasped and walked over to the edge at the foot of the concrete bridge, looking out over a wide expanse of the murky brown Arno River. She observed a series of bridges up and down the river, each dotted with the fuzzy outline of tourists under the glow of small beacons of dancing lights. Boats drifted lazily under them. On either side of the bank, buildings with red-tiled roofs and elegant and noble facades stared back at her.
“This is the Ponte alla Carraia. It connects the Oltrarno with the rest of Firenze. Ironically, as Florence grew, the Oltrarno was once considered to be the ‘rough and tumble’ area of the city, so to speak, but now, it’s the up-and-coming trendy area. I love it because it is so much less crowded than the city center. There are numerous artisan shops I can’t wait to show you.”
Crossing the bridge, Nora paused and pointed to the thick sidewalk at the base. “It forms a ring and encircles the entirety of the old city. If you can believe it, a vast fortress once sat where we are. The great cities of Italy—Milan, Naples, Florence—operated independently like the Greek city-states of the ancient world.”
“Remarkable,” Sabrina said breathlessly.
