He shook off his maudlin thoughts and strode forward, putting on his sunglasses and scanning the throng of men selling random crap and holding signs for various day tours.
“They should be right here,” said Charlotte. “The sign should say ‘Perkins,’ or ‘Panoramic Rome’ or something.”
“I don’t see anyone,” said Regan, squinting.
“Cord!” cried a familiar voice.
Cord turned, and his blood went cold.
REGAN KNEW ABOUT SECRETS,and how. But even she was stunned when a skinny young man in a linen suit and Vuarnet sunglasses rushed toward her openmouthed brother and wrapped Cord in his arms. The young man closed his eyes and pressed his face to Cord’s chest, his expression blissful. And then he grabbed Cord’s hand and faced them. “Well, hi!” he said gleefully. “I guess you’ve been wondering who stole your brother’s heart.C’est moi!”
There was, of course, the possibility that this young man was deranged. But it was all clicking into place: Cord’s endless single life, the way he kept himself at a remove from them, his abrupt departures from Savannah holiday weekends. In some part of herself, Regan had always known.
“What’s going on?” asked Charlotte, her voice high and wheezy. “Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” Her hand fluttered to her rib cage.
“Cord?” said the young man, continuing to grip Cord’s hand. There was a hopeful expression on the man’s face. He looked like he could be Italian, with dark hair and a five-o’clock shadow in the morning, but his accent was American.
“Giovanni,” whispered Cord. He seemed utterly terrified.
Regan had not known her brother this way in a long time—she was reminded suddenly of the afternoon he’d returned from a pheasant hunt with their father. “Shot one right between the eyes,” Winston had said proudly. When Winston turned to pour a drink, her brother’s expression changed. Cord tried to hide how the day had broken him, but Regan saw. And now she understood that her seemingly strong brother still needed her. And Regan loved knowing what to do.
She strode toward Giovanni and held out her hand. “I’m Regan,” she said.
“Regan! I feel like I already know you,” said Giovanni.
“And I’m Lee,” said Lee, following Regan’s lead, shaking the young man’s hand.
“Of course you are,” said Giovanni. “I follow you on Insta and Snap.”
“Where is the Panoramic Motor Coach Tour of Rome?” said Charlotte.
“It just seemeddepressing,” said Giovanni. “You know? I thought, Let’s really seeRoma! Get nitty-gritty. And so I booked us a golf cart!”
It was obvious the young man was nervous. He reminded Regan of her daughter Flora before a choir show.
“What are we waiting for?” said Lee, putting her shoulders back. Regan tried to meet her eyes, but she stared resolutely ahead. Regan wished she and Lee could return to the days when their love for each other was simple. Regan had once thought Lee would take care of her forever. How nice it had been to believe that, even if it had turned out to be a lie.
“Well, okay!” said the young man.
“I donotunderstand what’s going on around here,” said Charlotte.
“Believe me, I know the feeling,” said Giovanni. “By the way, I love your hat.”
“This?” said Charlotte, touching the brim. “Oh, it’s just achapeauI picked up in Athens.”
“Nowthatwas a glamorous sentence if ever I heard one,” said Giovanni.
Charlotte gave him a dazed smile. “Oh, well,” she said.
“So we take this bus to the golf cart,” said Giovanni excitedly. “And then we’ll go to the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon…pizza in Campo de’ Fiori…we’ll pop by the Villa Borghese…we can get gelato…”
“I love gelato,” said Regan, trying to sound reassuring.
“I thought about trying to get tickets to the Vatican,” nattered Giovanni. “But I wasn’t sure, with just one day, that we could…”
Cord turned to Giovanni. “It’s fine,” he said.
“Aren’t you surprised?” said Giovanni.
