“Mar. Not helping.”
“OK, OK, sorry. Look, is there a world in which you could find a way to try to make a relationship work with him?”
“I can’t do long distance. You know this. Especially not while doing a postdoc. With a guy who runs a whole town. Plus, he has job offers in New York and London. Maybe he doesn’t even know where he’s going to be.”
“Long distance isn’t impossible,” said Vilmari. “It takes some planning, sure, but it doesn’t have to be completely out of the question.”
“Hello? Who are you? What have you done with Vilmari Colón, my best friend who broke up with her husband because he fell in love on an island sixteen hundred miles away?”
“You know, in the end I didn’t break up with Quique because of that. I broke up with him because we got married when we were children and had no idea what we wanted. I didn’t know enough about myself to pick out a lipstick shade, never mind who I was going to spend the rest of my life with.”
“You loved him in the best way you could have,” said Lora, remembering the times they’d hung out together. They’d watch old episodes ofGrey’s AnatomyorMad Menand play Briscas for hours. Quique was fun and funny, alwaysready to shove the furniture aside for a night of dancing and Don Q rum. But it was clear that he was more and more into partying while Vilmari was becoming more and more dedicated to her work. After a while, all they did was bicker like it was a professional sport.
“Of course I did, but he wasn’t the right guy. For the right guy, I might do something stupid like try long distance again—is all I’m saying.”
“Tesoro—”
Lora’s eyes popped as a strangely familiar voice sang out a term of endearment in Italian.
“Is that—Nico?! I knew something was going on with that bathrobe!”
Vilmari grinned and reached off camera, pulling Nico into the frame by the hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” she said.
“That’s not true,” Nico said into the camera. “Ciao, Loretta. The truth is that she didn’t believe me when I said I am coming.”
“Not every man follows through,” said Vilmari, nodding at Lora. “And I would have rather told you about this jerk who never showed up than whined about how I hoped he was coming.”
“But I’m here. And I am sorry to listen. The apartment is small,” he said, turning to the screen. “Andrea has not been with anyone since he came back to Italy. I should not say this, but I can see how he feels about you. He’s not the kind of person to—how do you say? Wing off?”
“Wing it,” offered Vilmari.
“Yes, wing it. He plans, he thinks, then he does things.”
“I know,” said Lora. “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”
“Stop. And think about what you just said.” Vilmari pointed at her. “I’ve known you for over a decade and I’ve never heard you say that about anyone.”
“Because I never have. But that’s as far as it can go. September 10 is five minutes away, and the rest of my life is happening in the countrynext tothis one. I am not one of those women who is trying to have it all, Mar. I know I can’t. I will not let my dream go.”
“And so you shouldn’t. Don’t. With any luck you won’t fall in love in the remaining days and you can celebrate by eating your body weight in raclette in Zurich in a matter of weeks. No regrets!”
“Yeah,” she said, refolding one of Andrea’s tea towels on the counter. “With any luck.”
Andrea had been sure that they’d worked out enough of the problems in the weeks leading up to thesagraso that the actual weekend would be smooth sailing. He’d been wrong. Two of the local vineyards had underestimated the appeal of orange wine with the TikTok set and ran out entirely before the first day was over. A late train delayed the lunchtime arrivals, which meant that when people finally got there, they rushed the food booths, causing the lines to snake across each other, and half of the people wantingfrisceuended up withfarinata. A group of kids playing in the middle of the piazza kicked a soccer ball into Carola’s fruit and vegetable display,turning her Claude Monet into a Jackson Pollock. Due to an overly exuberant dose of spirit in thebabà al rum, one of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus misplaced the secure bank bag full of money from their baked goods table. And the greenhouse selling pots of fresh plants had accidentally included a selection of experimental “herbs” that looked enough like oregano to have been sold with a recipe for a special salad that would, no doubt, make people feelquitespecial thirty to sixty minutes after ingesting.
“But the focaccia broke sales records, the band kept everyone going until after midnight, and no one required an ambulance,” said Giada, giving Andrea a pep talk at the end of the first night. He’d wandered into the café after helping the ex–chief of police drain the oil from the deep fryers used for thefrittelle. The first thing Giada had said to him was that he smelled like a giant doughnut.
“I suppose those are positives,” Andrea said, aiming to sit himself on one of the stools in front of the bar. In gratitude for his service, Comandante Beppo had poured them two glasses of the intensely strong Amaro Camatti, which Andrea could certainly not refuse, despite it lighting up his esophagus like a brushfire. He’d drunk it all and still managed to dispose of the hot cooking oil without scalding the skin off his arms. It was only now that he noticed his vision going a little bit furry at the edges.
“It’s going to be fine. Tomorrow will be better, you’ll see. Red or white?” Giada held two bottles poised over a wineglass she’d set out on the bar in front of him.
“Either.” He shrugged. He could have refused, but why bother? She tipped a generous dose of red wine into the glass.Maybe one more drink would help keep the thoughts of Lora’s impending departure from creeping in too.We both know what this is, he’d told her. Except he had already forgotten. “I hope you’re right. Do you need help closing up? I know you were slammed today. I can stay to help after this.” He took a sip of wine. That’s when he realized that although he had been around literal truckloads of food all day, he hadn’t had a thing to eat.
“No way. You’re going to drink this and walk right across this piazza and get into bed. Vivi will be here soon, and we can handle the rest.”
