“She asked me to explain to you that apparently”—he paused, clearing his throat—“Ivo, or rathertheyas managers of his estate, had been wiring money to a bank account that they believed to be yours for years.”
Lora’s stomach dropped. She could feel Romina looking at her, but couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from opening into a useless, empty O shape.
“In Florida?” Lora asked, her voice almost a croak.
“Sì, Florida,” confirmed Romina.
“Keep going,” Lora said, though she could see that Andrea’s forehead was creased like a roman shade.
“At some point, the bank rejected the transfers, saying that account didn’t exist anymore. From what I understand, there was some kind of glitch. Back then, they were using fax to do everything, and I guess there were a few clerical errors. So, no one ever knew the payments weren’t being received, and no one ever stopped the payments. They all bounced back, ofcourse, but the bank has a record of every payment up until they switched to a digital system and were able to realize the mistake. In situations like this, the designated recipient of the funds is considered to be still in receipt of those funds. It’s a system set up to avoid anyone not getting what is due them because of some technological problem. That means that you are still owed that money and now that you are here, you can have it.”
“I didn’t come here for money,” Lora said, sitting up taller in her seat. “Please tell her that I am only here to confirm the rental agreement and the rest is not of interest.”
“She knows that. She knows you had no idea that there was money here for you. This is an extraordinary circumstance,” he said, leaning closer to Lora. His voice got quiet. “She’s actually kind of embarrassed because nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Lora pulled out her laptop and opened it to the PDF she’d compiled of her bank statements for the last two years. She didn’t make a ton of money, but it was more than enough to cover the token rent of one euro per month that Andrea was charging. She turned the computer around to face Romina.
“These are my bank statements,” she said, pointing at the screen. She set the computer on Romina’s desk, an action that was met with raised eyebrows and a questioning look. “Does she need me to print these out because I obviously don’t have a printer.”
“Non e necessario,” said Romina, waving her hands to encourage Lora to remove the offending item from the divine surface of her desk.
“She says you don’t need that,” Andrea said.
“Why not? It’s what she asked for.” She knew her face was pink. She could feel the heat building from her throat and a sting on the inside of her nose. She did not want to cry. She did not.
Romina explained something to Andrea including the words for “account,” “contract,” and “father.” Andrea was going back and forth with her, but she clearly dominated the conversation. Lora willed her to finish quickly. She had no idea what Romina was saying, but if she would get it out of her mouth faster, Lora could exit this room and exit this building and exit this damned town if she wanted to.
“She says—and let me confirm that she is not joking for one second about any of this—she says that the bank is legally obligated to transfer the funds to you. There is nothing you can do about that. After that point, you can do whatever you want, including give it all away. But then I asked her if the account could serve as a kind of escrow that would also confirm the rental agreement and she said yes. You don’t have to use the money. It will sit there and you can go about your life like it never existed. It’s only that you will have had a little help to get this approval.”
“I want to do it on my own,” Lora said, her voice sounding so small. It was too late. She looked down, feeling the hot tears come, and searched in her bag for something to wipe her face. A puff of tissues broke Lora’s peripheral vision as Romina half stood, extending a box across the desk. Lora could not look up at her but nodded her thanks as she pulled two tissues out and tried to wipe her face.
“I understand, but I want to emphasize how difficult it normally is to get approval like this when all of your incomeand accounts are abroad. We were going to try really hard and hope for some good luck here today. The good luck showed up, just not how you wanted it to. In this case, it’s going to have to be OK to not do it on your own.”
“Secondo me tuo padre ti amava. Molto.” Romina shook her head and shrugged like she’d spoken an irrefutable truth.
“What did she say?” Lora asked, still refusing to look up. She knew it was something about her father again. Andrea drew in a breath. She could practically feel how much he didn’t want to be the one to say the words to her.
“She thinks Ivo loved you very much.”
Chapter 13
RESEARCH NOTES
Yet another aspect of Maslow’s hierarchy that may not be relevant today is the need for “safety.” While the concept of safety may once have been more tightly connected to physical health and the avoidance of personal harm, modern concepts of safety extend into emotional and relational contexts. Today it may be impossible to influence one’s environment and relationships to ensure safety universally before attempting to ascend to other tiers in the pyramid. Therefore, addressing self-esteem and self-actualizationbeforesafety may be the preferred choice.
Andrea assumed that Lora would want to ditch him the second they walked out of the bank, and he was correct. After being forced to wait the painful seconds for the security door to run through its protocol of closing, sealing,and opening again, she practically shot out of there and was already halfway toward the piazza by the time he got out himself.
“Lora! Wait one second!” he called. She paused, but did not turn around. In truth, he had no idea what to say to her. He tried to think of something, anything. But there was no part of him that thought he could find the right words. “I have no idea what to say,” he blurted out.
She turned around slowly, her face red and swollen, her bangs mushed in a clump on her forehead. In her right hand, she clutched a white bouquet of destroyed tissues. The straps of her tote bag, heavy from her computer, dug into her shoulder.
“I want to be alone,” she said, sounding so tired.
“OK, I respect that. However, I would like to offer you an alternative to aloneness.” He paused, waiting to see if she was going to punch him out or if she could potentially be interested in what he was going to propose next. She blinked at him, which he took as a sign that it was safe to continue. “I have a pizza oven.”
She cocked her head to the side and squinted slightly.
“Well, that sounds ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Let me try again. Years ago, someone gave me a pizza oven. I don’t use it very often because it’s meant for entertaining, and I don’t do much of that. But today I thought to myself that I should use it more. It makes really good pizza, and why shouldn’t I have good pizza, right? So, I was going to go pick up a pack offarina doppio zero, the good kind of flour that makes the best crust, and finish my day with dough on my hands. Therefore, my alternative offer to aloneness would bepizza. With me. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. You may have to knead, though,” he said, making the motion with his hands.
