‘Cazzo,’ breathed Francesco. ‘Heactuallydid that?’
Lucia nodded, dropping her lips to Foscari’s crown. ‘And it’s all in my name.’ She leaned across to her nightstand, collected the contract and passed it to the pair.
Their eyes scanned the document, and Mariella said, ‘Che strano. What an odd final agreed value. With the extra two euros in the total.’
Despite herself, the corners of Lucia’s lips curled into a grin. ‘Edoardo never told Gatti he had a counteroffer from Alex. Just as he never toldmeabout it. All he legally required, according to the contracts, was for Gatti’s offer andmyoffer to be beaten. And Alex did. He countered my euro over Gatti with an extra one. So, two.’ She held up two fingers and sighed.
Francesco smirked then smiled in the direction of La Commedia. ‘That man is all class.’
Seeing Francesco affirm Alex’s actions somewhat smothered the festering seeds of disappointment and frustration Lucia felt. She accepted that Alex’s action had earned him a place of respect in Francesco’s mind, and by rights, it should in hers too. He had taken a risk, put himself and his money on the line. But why?
All for you, Lucia. He did it for you.
Realising that she had been abrupt and insensitive towards Alex’s gesture of benevolence during their exchange, Lucia felt ashamed.
Her eyes welled with tears, blurring her vision. As the heat rose in her cheeks she stopped fighting them and allowed the tears to fall. They came tumbling and pouring from her, and she doubled over Foscari.
Mariella and Francesco shared a knowing look, and both got up to join her at the end of the bed. There, in that little history-soaked apartment, filled with memories and ghosts alike, Lucia succumbed to her future, wrapped in the love of the closest thing she had to family.
quarantacinque
A week of stolen moments of introspection had passed since Lucia’s exchange with Alex over the school. While she had been present in body, she was far from mindful in action.
Lucia was thankful that Alex had given her space, as she hadn’t yet found the courage to approach him about the situation. A mix of embarrassment and a new self-awareness prevented her from stepping across thecalle. And with each passing day, ironically, doing so felt more and more awkward.
Mariella and Francesco had been supportive sounding-boards, but Lucia knew one reliable source of wisdom who would help her come to terms with Alex’s purchase of the school.
That Friday morning, in search of both lunch and answers for the troubles of her soul, Lucia headed to the Mercato del Pesce di Rialto. She arrived a little later than usual, knowing Miro, Pietro and Giorgio would have set up for the day. She hoped to steal Miro for a moment’s grace.
His eyebrows rose considerably as she told him her story, almost disappearing under hisberrettoas her recount came to a close. ‘Foryou?’
Lucia nodded and her eyes traced the glistening waters of the Grand Canal over Miro’s shoulder. ‘Sì. In my name.’
Miro leaned pensively against one of the marble columns of the market’s external façade, hiding them both from prying eyes and curious ears. He gave Lucia an all-knowing, fatherly smile which met the corner creases of his eyes.
While Lucia had expected shock and confusion about the book deal, Alex’s backstory and Alex’s purchase of the school for her, what she hadn’t expected was the joy that filled Miro’s humble, ageing face. ‘What do you think?’ She reached across and caught his free hand with hers. ‘What should I do? I really need to go and talk to Alex about it. But I’m just . . .’
It was at that moment that a dinghy passed by on the canal to Lucia’s left, with two young fishermen in it, one at either end. From the water the pair had a clear view of Miro and Lucia hidden by the column. One brought his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply, splitting the calm of the early-morning lagoon. From within themercatocame an answering whistle, and a series of heads craned towards them along the aisles, each eager for a glimpse ofher.
It was second nature for Lucia to ignore such behaviour. She had endured it as long as she could remember. But this morning, riddled with tension, she turned and looked back at them with her troubled, wide-eyed stare.
Miro, protective and caring, said, ‘It doesn’t have to be this way,eh. You don’t need to add to this.’ He gestured back into themercatowith a flick of his bristly bearded chin. ‘You know what you need to do. You’re just too proud to let it happen.’
‘You think I should—’
‘By gifting you Alex, I thinkl’universohas decided for you.’ He sighed. ‘And it’s finally keeping you safe.’
La Scuola Rosa’s second floor was full to the brim with drink-wielding students that rainy evening at theaperitivogathering.
Mariella darted between them as best she could, carrying trays ofcicchettiandantipasti, while Francesco stood by the usual makeshift drinks station, topping up glasses with his trademark good humour.
Lucia smiled, motioning for the small group of Japanese students, who had just given their farewell speech, to rejoin the rest of the gathered pupils. She encouraged a round of applause from the supportive crowd. ‘And so, if that’s the finalarrivederciof the evening—’
‘Stop,’ came a voice from the landing.
The entire congregation turned to find Alex, slick with rain, at the top of the first flight of stairs.
Lucia felt her legs petrify the instant she set eyes on him. Her mind flooded with worry. Why was he here? What would he say? She was acutely aware of the audience, and self-conscious of the fact. Foscari scrambled to meet her feet from across the floor, propping himself defensively beside Lucia for moral support. ‘A-Alex?’
