“Was Adam able to send us money?” I ask.
Leah lets go of my back and brushes her hands on her knees. She knows how to take a hint. “Yeah. He did. And the passports arrived today. As promised.” She rises and holds out her hand. “Why don’t you and I go out and have a really expensive dinner and drink our weight in wine?”
I get up from my spot. “I’ll settle on a reasonably pricedprix fixedinner and a glass of wine. I think I lost enough of our money this week. No need to go for broke.”
Leah turns to head into the room. “Killjoy,” she says, but then turns toward me and walks backward. “But I get to pick out our clothes.”
I agree and that seems to bring Leah back into her natural state: absolutely crazy.
chapter EIGHT
Last night, Leah and I ventured into Anacapri. It’s part of the island of Capri but on the opposite side of where we are staying. We had to walk to the Piazetta to catch a bus. My heart was in my throat as the bus wound up the steep mountain with little guardrail protecting us from driving off the cliff.
We made it there in record time, and caught the last chairlift to the top of Mount Solaro, the highest and most panoramic point on the island. It was on Leah’s list of places to visit. From up there we could see the Bay of Naples and the Amalfi Coast. Since we’d lost our phones, we stopped at a store to buy a disposable camera. We were both surprised they still sold those.
In town, we visited the shops. Leah and I both bought silk scarves and added them to the dresses Leah picked out for us to wear. She wrapped her scarf around her neck, and I tied mine around my head, making a headband.
It was nice being a tourist with my sister. We ate a great—and reasonably priced—dinner, then settled into a cafe where we had a cappuccino and dessert. We stopped to listen to a band play in the street and by the time we settled into bed last night, I almost forgot about the crazy day I’d had.
Almost.
Today, we are at a beach club on the Marina Piccola, on the south side of the island. I say beach club, because that is what it’s called, yet it’s a far cry from what I was expecting. We walk along narrow stone steps, following signs for the place we chose to spend our afternoon in the sun. We approach a stone structure of three levels leading down to the water. Each level has lounge chairs on it, facing the water. We walk down to the level on the water. We came to use the beach, so we want to be on the beach.
The beach, however, is not the white sand beaches we are used to back in the States. Instead of sand, the beach is made of small rocks hot from the sun, so we keep our flip-flops on as we walk to our lounge chairs. There is a cafe inside and music playing over a speaker. A family of four is to our left and a couple who seem to be on their honeymoon are to our right. I’m surprised there aren’t more people enjoying the sun.
From my chair, I can see the rock formation I passed with Asher yesterday, which, I now know, is the Faraglioni. Three spurs of rock formed by erosion of ocean waves. In fact, every time I look up, I see the rocks and try not to think of Asher.
Lathering on the sunblock, I take in the sunshine. Leah gets us a few cocktails and waters and when those are done we decide to go for a swim. We tentatively walk into the water, trying to keep our feet steady on the rocky ground. My feet actually hurt from the pebbles digging in my skin. The family to our left is all wearing water shoes. Smart.
After a few hours of enjoying the beach club, we head back to town. Instead of taking the bus, Leah wants to follow the map and walk back, cutting through the mountain. I tried to warn her it was farther than it looks but, Leah being Leah wants to have an adventure and “do like the locals do.”
Trust me, there is no way the locals endure this torture. If I say we climbed a thousand stairs, I might be underestimating the climb. Leah whines on the way up, and I remind her how great her butt will look after this exercise. It seems to make her happy enough to keep on going.
When we reach the top, we treat ourselves to gelato.
Between last night’s trek to Anacapri and today’s climb up the mountain, we are both ready to head back to the hotel. A nap is in order before we can even think about where to go for dinner.
Leah and I enter the hotel and pass through the lobby, walking to our room. In front of our door is a large package. From the distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. When we get closer we see that it’s really . . . shoes.
In a large wicker basket is an array of shoes, each on its own stick, assembled in a display to look like a flower arrangement. In between each shoe is tissue paper and the entire thing is wrapped in cellophane.
Leah picks up the basket while I take out my room key and open the door. When we’re in the room, Leah places the basket on the table of the seating area and removes the card on the front.
“It’s for you.” She hands me the envelope.
“Me?” I take it from her, look at my name written on the front and slide the card out.
I look over at the bouquet Leah is unwrapping. Inside are a dozen shoes. These aren’t any shoes. There are six pairs of Sperry Top-Siders in the basket. The same shoe I lost when I fell in the water. I left the other on Devon’s boat and wore slippers home.
Looking back down on the card and read the next line.
Leah rips the card from my hand and reads it. “For someone who didn’t talk to the guy, you certainly made an impression.”
I wave her off and look at the shoes. It’s an odd gift. Who buys someone six pairs of shoes? There is a gold pair, a silver, red, navy, white and green. All in my size. I don’t know how much Asher gets paid but he spent a pretty penny.
I take the card from Leah and read the note again. It’s actually pretty funny. If I were in a different headspace I would appreciate the cleverness of the gift.
“Looks like you have dinner plans tonight.” Leah says with complete excitement.
