“My paper, the one I presented at the conference back in February?”
“Yeah?”
“They finally published the conference proceedings, and guess what’s not in it?”
“You’re kidding.”
He shook his head.
“You think they left it out on purpose?”
“I’m sure someone yanked it,” he said.
“Bornemann?”
“Or maybe Manzoni.”
I had tried to make things right between Luca and Paul, even going so far as to arrange drinks one night with Paul and me, Luca and Matilde. Everyone was polite, but it was so clear that Paul saw Luca as the enemy and vice versa that I gave up on the idea of blending my two worlds. Now I wondered what my husband knew about Luca’s missing paper, and I resolved to ask him about it when I got home.
I waited until Paul had changed out of his uniform and wandered into the kitchen, where I was sautéing some scallops I planned to serve over risotto. While he grabbed a beer from the fridge and poured it into a glass,I filled him in on theNereide’s arrival, eventually working my way around to the subject of Luca’s paper. In hindsight, I could have been smoother with my delivery, but it was a hard question to ask without insinuating that someone in the command had called in a favor. “Do you think it’s possible that Daniel Bornemann got the paper pulled?” I asked as I used a pair of tongs to flip each scallop.
“No way,” he said with some force, then was quick to remind me that this was outside of his purview.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But you and Daniel talk.”
“Bornemann’s not going to waste his time on some stupid conference proceeding no one’s ever going to read.”
It was such a derisive comment that I had to say something. “You don’t have to call the proceedings stupid or say no one’s going to read them. Just tell me you think Bornemann’s focused on other stuff.”
“Fine,” said Paul, taking a sip of beer. “He’s focused on other stuff.”
This did not make me feel better, and he knew it.
“Maybe the organizers left it out by accident?” he suggested, trying to appease me.
I wanted to ask him how big an idiot he thought I was, but in the spirit of trying harder, I swallowed my feelings and said, “Yeah, maybe.”
116.
THE SUMMER, WHICH WAS MYfavorite season in La Maddalena, passed quickly. Laura and I spent as much time at the beach as we could; I made a lot of caprese salads; and I learned to love figs, which Francesca taught me to eat with a spoon. In July, Paul and I took the ferry from Cagliari to Palermo and spent ten days driving through Sicily, and in August, his parents came for a two-week visit, which was about one week too long.
It was October before I saw Teo again.
Laura and I were sitting outdoors at the Café Vecchio, near Cala Gavetta, soaking in the last rays of the afternoon sun, when a large group showed up and started pushing tables together. There were six or seven people, and I recognized Luca and Nina before realizing that Teo was with them.
Luca and Nina waved at me, and then Teo said something to Nina before getting up and walking over.
I tried to play it off like I hadn’t been watching his every move. “Oh, hi,” I said, and stood to greet him.
Teo introduced himself to Laura. It seemed impossible that they hadn’t met, but I couldn’t remember the three of us ever being in the same place at the same time. He gestured at their extra-large table. “Would you like to join us? They just got back from a conference in Rome.”
Laura’s Italian was still terrible, and I think she knew that if we joined them, she’d have no hope of following the conversation. She gave me a look that basically said as much.
“I promised Laura we’d catch up,” I said. “But thank you.”
Teo didn’t seem surprised that I’d turned down the offer. But what got me was that he looked almost relieved.
After we’d watched him walk away, Laura said, “We can go over there if you really want.”
