‘But what if we choose the same things? How can we make sure we don’t double-up without ruining the surprise?’
‘Here.’ She took two napkins from the dispenser on the countertop and passed one to him. ‘Let’s write our ideas on these and we’ll ask yourpapàif anything matches.’
‘Ok,perfetto!’
They promptly set to work, scribbling down their plans. Stella presented them to Giuseppe in the kitchen and, after assessing each napkin, he confirmed that there were no double-ups.
‘Do you want the morning or afternoon session?’ Marco asked.
‘Afternoon, please.’
‘Perfect. I need the morning session. And, tomorrow?’
‘No later, please!’ Stella beamed, delighted that he was so keen to join in on her little outing. It was set to be the most glorious distraction from the harsh realities of life. No more Vincent. A day of no job hunting.
‘I will pick you up from Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere tomorrow morning at six. Bring acasco.’
‘Why so early?’
‘You’ll see.Abbia pazienza!’ He patted her on the underside of her chin.
After dinner, Stella curled up on her bed with her laptop. Opening her inbox, her stomach hit the floor. Nestled between two job application rejections was an email from Vincent. The subject line read:Arrived, but not without incident. Swallowing through her suddenly dry mouth, she mustered all her courage to read what awaited her.
It seemed that Stella’s little karmic pranks had indeed caused much strife for Vincent. He recounted that his flights were ‘fine, but long’ and that he ‘couldn’t catch a break’, explaining how he was certain he had packed his laptop charger. Vincent, always one to use long flights to complete work and reply to emails, found this particularly annoying. He also suggested that perhaps his credit cards and phone SIM had been wiped by the scanners at Customs. Stella giggled to herself to learn he spent four hours in the line at the bank and paid an exorbitant price for an express reissue. Unable to access his contacts list, Vincent was reduced to sending emails to clients and friends, trying to recoup their numbers in time for work to begin.
Satisfied with how her plan had turned out, she vowed to keep up appearances for the next few weeks until he was back in Rome. An extra sprinkling of karmic fairy dust would be spared for their final showdown.
‘Tutto bene, Stellina?’ Marcella popped her head around Stella’s door.
‘Yes. Just got an email from Vincent, actually.’
‘Ma, no!’ Marcella joined Stella at the head of the bed and took the laptop in her hands. ‘Brava, Stella! Your plan worked.’
‘It sure did! I’m going to reply to him now.’
‘What are you going to say?’
‘I’ll just make small talk. Say hi and tell him I’m sorry to hear that he’s had such bad luck. He won’t suspect anything’s up.’ Stella hit the reply button, ready to put on her best fake nice act.
Marcella bit her bottom lip, wanting to comment. She scrunched her nose and made her way back for the bedroom door, uneasy and confused.
Stella noticed this unusual restraint and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Niente. Nothing,bella.’ She paused again before adding, ‘Are you sure about the next part of your plan?’ Marcella’s expression was sullen. ‘I’ve been thinking about it these past few days and . . .’ Her shoulders raised to echo her concerns. ‘Do you think it’sreallysuch a good idea?’
‘Iknowit is.’ Stella was defiant. ‘It needs to happen. Simple as that.’ She went on typing her reply.
‘Allora, I will help you. Don’t worry.’ Noticing that Stella had laid out an outfit on the back of her desk chair, she asked, ‘What’s this for?’
‘I’m wearing that tomorrow.’
‘What’s tomorrow?’
‘I’m spending the day with Marco,’ she replied, not lifting her eyes from the screen.
Marcella was suddenly intrigued. ‘The whole day with Marco?Interessante. And what are you going to be doing?’ By the time she had asked her question, she was already back on the bed, eager to know more.
Stella explained how the day was going to work, and that they would be setting off early, hence the outfit prep. Secretly delighted, Marcella listened on with keen interest.
