“You were sick. People don’t have to know more than that. Tell them you ate a bad frittella.”
“I’ll give that a try. How did you know I would be here, anyway?”
“Because the first time we came here, it was when you were overwhelmed with emotion. I figured this was a place that helped you feel settled.”
“It was.”
“It still can be. What makes you feel at peace is also in you, Andrea, not just the panic. It’s not this country or this town or even this garden.” She reached out, tapped her finger on his chest. “It’s here.”
He nodded and finally stood.
“I am going to go,” he said. “You should go back to the party.”
“Where will you be?” she asked.
“Wherever I can think. You don’t have to worry about me, Lora.”
Chapter 24
Lora sat in the foyer of city hall on a heavy wooden bench that was probably as old as the building, and though she was about to become a part of this place officially, she’d never felt more like a visitor. She’d decided to wear her favorite dress: a midi-length with short sleeves and a tie at the waist. Of course it was black and probably a bit melancholy for most people getting ready to become a citizen, but it felt appropriate for her situation. No one was going to be celebrating a homecoming or feeling excited to put down roots. This was not a beginning but an end. She slid her hand into her pocket, her fingers closing around Ivo’s silver-and-turquoise ring that had turned warm against her body. She’d seen it peeking out from under the photo album this morning when she was about to leave the house and, without thinking, had dropped it in her pocket. It was oddly comforting to have something weighty in her hand, something that had lasted.
Almost two weeks had passed since thesagra, and she had not seen or heard from Andrea. As easy as she thought it wasto run into him every day, it turned out to be as easy to not be where he was at all. TheLevante Newspublished a story congratulating the mayor, who was suffering from gastroenteritis and had the presence of mind to not display the contents of his stomach on stage in public, and the comments only shared well-wishes and thanks for such a successful weekend.
She texted, of course: “Are you OK? Do you need anything? Let me know you’re all right.” But he did not respond. What would she say if she had him in front of her that wouldn’t sound as thin as a sheet of paper and just as easy to tear apart? So, she stayed close to the house during those weeks, only venturing out to buy groceries or to go for walks down the long, winding road that led to the beach. She wrote her notes, prepared for her presentation, and scanned through apartment listings and flat-shares in Zurich. She made time to stop by and see Giada, Vivi, Ottavio, and his fabulous partner, Emanuela. Ema had been sent a bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte champagne by her editor to celebrate her book being finished, and she was determined to pop the bottle right in Ottavio’s salon one afternoon between a balayage and a bang trim. Lora happened to stop by and didn’t end up leaving until the bottle was empty. She’d had the best time listening to the couple tell stories that made Deuxmoi look like a high school burn book, but she kept glancing out the giant window, hoping she wouldn’t have to invent some reason to duck out of view.
One day, she thought she’d seen the Panda while out walking. She’d had the instinct to hide and quickly turned up a side street to make herself disappear, nonchalantly, of course, behind a giant maritime pine. As the car zoomed by, she saw that it was not his but was ashamed just the same.
Finally the day arrived. All she had to do on August 3 at ten in the morning was show up, repeat one phrase in Italian, sign a paper, and it was done. The problem was that she could not do any of this without facing the one person who did not want to speak to her since he was also the one person who would be declaring her a citizen.
“Buongiorno, Franca.” Andrea walked into the foyer and kept his eyes on his assistant. He wore dress pants and a starched button-down shirt. His hard-soled shoes clacked, echoing across the stones as he made his way over to Franca. After conferring with her for a few moments, she picked up a thick folder and began walking toward a small chamber on the left side of the foyer.
“Loretta Giordano.” He turned to Lora, then gestured toward the doorway. “Avanti, per favore.”
She stood, straightened her dress. He did not glance back at her as he disappeared into the room, but when she walked through the doorway where he’d just been, she was hit with the cold woodsy scent of him. The room held only a giant wooden table with intricately carved spindled legs and a row of flags on tall poles against the back wall. Andrea stood on one side of the table with Franca behind him and gestured for her to stand on the other side. He opened the thick folder on the table and glanced down.
“Ciao, Sindaco, possiamo essere presenti?”
Lora turned toward the doorway to see the source of the voice. Giada leaned into the doorway with Vivi, Ottavio, Emanuela, and Beatrice behind her. Giada gave her a little wave and a smile.
“Sì, sì,” Andrea said, allowing them to step inside to watch.
Lora felt a heaviness in her throat and knew that her face was flushed as the group filed in and stood to the side of the room. She grinned at all of them and took a deep breath, finally letting some of the tension out.
“Due to the circumstances, I will execute this ceremony in both English and Italian,” he said, staring at the flags over her head.
She nodded, but his eyes were down on the folder again.
“Oggi, ufficialmente, il tre di agosto 2026,” he began, the room silent as he read out the official decree in Italian. When it was over he flipped the page, coughed, and began again.
“Today, officially on the third day of August of 2026, in theComune di Baia Santa, province of Genoa, in Italy, I, Andrea Garibaldi, mayor of the town of Baia Santa, hereby confer citizenship upon Loretta Giordano, born January 15, 1993, in the City of Vero Beach in the state of Florida in the United States of America. I confer citizenship on behalf of the president of the Republic of Italy, and all relevant dignitaries of the state following your oath.”
She waited, unsure if she was supposed to say anything yet. Her eyes flicked to Franca, who only stared at her, likely still judging her lack of language skills.
“Please repeat after me,” said Andrea, finally ending the silence. “Giuro di essere fedele alla Repubblica, e di osservare la Costituzione, e le leggi dello Stato.”
Lora looked at him blankly, unable to remember one word of what he’d said, let alone the whole thing together. He sighed, then parsed out tiny portions of her part, feeding her two or three words at a time until she could repeat the whole promise to be a faithful citizen of the Republic of Italyback to him in a butchered accent. It was nothing short of excruciating, and when it was finally over, she swore she could hear the gallery sigh in relief.
“È mio dovere ora proclamare che Loretta Giordano è ufficialmente cittadina italiana.It is now my duty to proclaim that Loretta Giordano is now an official Italian citizen. You may now enjoy all the rights and freedoms, as you are considered a natural-born citizen, including the rights to enter and exit the country”—he paused, his eyes finally flicking to hers—“as suits you. You must sign here.” He took out of his pocket the heavy pen she’d seen him manhandle with anxiety countless times, uncapped it, and passed it to her, pointing to the line on the document.
