“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Catalina asked again.
“Yes, I don’t mind,” I replied patiently.
“I wouldn’t have asked you if there was anyone else, but Angela and Marco are spending the day in Positano with the kids, Roy still isn’t back yet, and Blas is a terror behind the wheel.”
Rubbing her arm, I reassured her, “Don’t worry, just tell me where I need to go.”
“It’s Piazza Sant’Antonino. On the corner, there’s a street with an arch over it and you’ll see a little boutique. My friend Donata runs it. Just give her this and tell her it’s from me.”
“Sure,” I said, looking at the bag with curiosity.
“And be careful, it took me a month to sew it and I won’t have time to do it again.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise. But what is it?”
“A bridal veil. Donata’s daughter is getting married next week and she asked me to make one.”
“I didn’t know you sewed,” I said.
“Well, professionally I don’t. I don’t do anything anymore, but I worked for a haute couture house for years. I did this as a personal favor. Donata and I have been friends forever and I couldn’t say no.”
“Well, I’ll make sure she gets it intact,” I told her.
“Thank you, Maya, you’re a dream come true.”
I closed my eyes as I let her hug me. She smelled of jasmine and pie crust—a scent that I loved. Her kindness moved me so deeply in my soul that it was hard not to ask myself what my life would have been like if I’d grown up with her and not with Olga.
I placed the bag in the basket of my bicycle and pedaled downtown.
The boutique wasn’t easy to find. When I finally located it and entered, I heard a bell chiming over my head. A little woman in a tight cherry-red dress hurried out to greet me. She looked like Sophia Loren, but blond: She had the same big eyes and oval face. Her breasts were bursting from her push-up bra, and she had a wasp waist and hips to die for.
After handing over the veil and conversing a moment in my newly acquired Italian, I said goodbye to her, and we kissed each other on the cheek.
On my way out, I wondered whether to pass by the restaurant and visit Lucas. He normally worked the day shift, and I often only saw him at lunchtime. And every day, our time together felt shorter and shorter, when all I wanted was for it never to end.
How can a person you’ve only known for a few weeks come to feel so essential? I don’t know the answer, but Lucas had done it. He was a part of my days now, and I couldn’t imagine them without him.
Traffic was crazy that day—it always was at that hour—and I decided to get off my bike and walk it on the sidewalk before someone ran me over. I reached an intersection, and that’s where I saw it: the ballet school.
I couldn’t resist the urge to go there. The sign was lit up, and the lights were on inside, too. I tried to just peek in, but the glass was too dark and I couldn’t make out anything.
“Hey,” I heard a deep voice say right beside my ear.
I flinched and found Giulio smiling a few inches away from my face. In one hand, he was carrying a case of water.
“Hey! What are you, um… What are you doing here?” I asked.
I don’t know why my first impulse was to play dumb. Maybe because no one had mentioned the school yet, not even Giulio. Everything I knew, I’d found out on my own, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to come across like a stalker.
“It’s my school. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No. You’ve barely told me anything about yourself.”
“Well, then, my name’s Giulio Dassori. I’m a dance instructor, and this is my school. Pleased to meet you,” he joked. He placed his arm in the fifth position and with a humorous expression on his face asked, “Would you like to come in?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” I said, almost terrified.
“You won’t be. Come on, you first,” he insisted.
