They entered the guest bedroom. Sabrina ran her fingers over the scratchy metallic fabric of the queen-sized bed’s headboard. Her gaze traveled to a squishy lilac armchair in the room’s corner, along with a small bookcase and a reading lamp.
Sabrina squinted her eyes. “All Austen books?”
Nora shrugged. “Austen and Regency romance. I collect editions with covers that I enjoy. The others are my favorite English-language indulgence reads. I know you have your e-book reader, but there is something special about having a physical paperback book in your hands.”
Sabrina grinned. She turned and hugged Nora. “It’s official, I’m moving in with you. Permanently.”
Nora hugged her back. “If you do decide to do so, I’m the one who is going to benefit the most. I’ve always wanted to have a roommate and a person I can spend some quality girl time with. Lucia comes to visit me every now and again, but our interests don’t exactly align the way yours and mine do.”
“Is there a reason all of you have names that begin with the letter L?” Sabrina asked.
“Family tradition on my father’s side.” Nora leaned against the door frame and they chatted for a few more minutes. “Feel free to explore. If you go out of the kitchen and back through the living room, you’ll find the hallway to my room. In the morning, I’ll give you a tour of the remainder of the flat and the garden. Have a lie-in if you wish. I’m due to be at the symphony hall at ten. If I’m not here, I’ll be there.”
“I thought you worked at the Museum of Music for your day job?” Sabrina said.
“I do, but with the spring coming up, the museum orchestra gives outdoor concerts every weekend in addition to our thrice-weekly performance set. We have an extra weekly rehearsal that I’m none too thrilled about, but as the first violinist, I have to set a good example.”
Sabrina just stared. “A concert violinist. A crown princess. A writer. A museum curator. Is there anything you can’t do?”
Nora snorted. “I can’t whistle.”
Sabrina sat on the bed, picked up a pillow, and clutched it to her chest. “I wish I could say I’ve accomplished half as much as you.”
“Sabrina, you can’t compare yourself to others. Having that mentality will only doom you to fail, because the only person you can be is yourself.”
She doesn’t know how close to home that statement hits.
Nora crossed her arms. “I wish you could see yourself as I do. When I look at you, I see a woman who is bursting at the seams with hidden talents and potential. In fact, while you’re here in Florence, I’m challenging you to figure out how to tap into them.”
Sabrina’s tired brain didn’t have the energy to argue with Nora. Wearily, she nodded and covered a yawn with her hand.
“We’ve both had a long day. I’ll leave you to unpack and to get some rest. If you need anything at all, just send me a text message. My mobile is always turned on. It’s easier than shouting through the flat. I’ll be working on our Regency story outline for a little bit longer before I turn in for the evening.”
Nora left Sabrina to her own devices. Drawing the pale yellow curtains, Sabrina reached up and unlatched the window. A cool evening breeze greeted her. She leaned on her elbows, staring out at glimmering lights over the expanse of inky black water. Sabrina listened to the sounds of the water and cars. Alone, she had time to reflect on Lorenzo.
If I were trying to be objective, in theory, it makes sense for Lorenzo to be as guarded as he is. I can’t fathom what it might have been like growing up, having to question if people are happy to meet you for you, or if it is all because of the privileged world you were born into. I didn’t have many friends growing up, but at least I could take comfort in knowing they wanted to be around me because of my personality.
Sabrina moved away from the window and selected a book at random from Nora’s collection. She plopped herself into the lilac armchair and opened the book’s cover, staring out into space, the wounds still raw and eliciting a dull ache.
Jane Austen went against the norms of Regency society. She never married or had any children. Instead, she boldly opted to pursue her dreams—her writing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always followed a path that others have wanted for me. I never took the time to think about what I wanted. What my hopes and dreams are.
Everything I’ve done has been to earn the approval and respect of my parents. I wanted to prove to them that I could be a daughter they could be proud of. Nora is right. If I want to be happy and discover what comes next for me, it’s time that I stopped trying so hard to reach a goal that is seemingly unachievable. I have to start living my life for me. I must learn to come out of my own Dark Ages and into a personal Renaissance.
Thirteen
A Light At the End of the Tunnel
Over the next three weeks, Sabrina settled into an easy routine with Nora. Each morning, they’d eat breakfast together and exchange notes about Nora’s manuscript at the café across the way. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after ten, they would leave the flat and head into the underground offices of the Museum of Music. While her tourist visa didn’t allow her to work, Sabrina was able to offer her services as a volunteer at the front desk, assisting English-speaking visitors.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, after her Italian language class, Sabrina and some of her classmates explored the Tuscan countryside. She had grown enchanted with riding the train to the hillside towns of Pisa and Lucca and traversing their offerings by bicycle. Making new friends helped take the edge off the moments she found herself becoming lonely. But most of all, Sabrina cherished her time meandering through the many communal gardens of Florence.
From atop the Piazza Michelangelo she could spend endless hours gazing out over the skyline of the city and watch the sunset. It was her favorite spot in the city to sit collect her thoughts. Sabrina thought about her mom and about the circumstances that had led to their relationship deteriorating to the point where they still were not speaking to one another.
The day I was fired, it was just the nail in the coffin. Our relationship has always been contentious. We both were too stubborn to see that stitch by stitch, the fabric holding us together was becoming frayed.
She thought about her dad and how little initiative she had taken to maintain a strong connection to him.
When Mom and Dad split, it was a shock. I thought Dad was abandoning us, but if I look at it from an outsider’s perspective, the writing was on the wall. Mom and Dad used to constantly fight. They were both miserable and would rather work long hours than spend time in proximity to one another. They stayed together as long as they did to try and keep Maggie and me in a stable environment.
