Page 93 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

“Oh, dear God, honey. Are you trying to torture me? What about Sir Parm? That new trap might get him. He’ll stink the place up.”

Bianca wasn’t having it. “Then disengage the trap. I’m sure he’ll be waiting when we get back.”

He shook his head, the idea preposterous. “He’ll be waiting here with a mouse army. I’m telling you, B. I’ve seen it before. They multiply and will take over a place.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

He shook his head slowly, in the way she knew too well, the way of a man constantly forced to do things he didn’t want to under the command of two strong-willed women.

“You know what, though,” she said. “This means everything to me. That you’d trust me, that you’d risk leaving your comfort zone. That you’re willing to take a leap of faith. Thank you.”

That brought a smile out of him, and then his eyes began to glow with determination. “Let’s do this.”

She couldn’t have loved him much more than she did right then.

With summer travelers winding around them, Bianca and George studied the departure board at Bologna Centrale.

An abundance of languages leaped from foreign tongues. Baristas pulled espressos with caffeinated intensity. Muffled announcements crackled out of the overhead speakers. A frantic bodybuilder dragging a bag burst through the crowd in a desperate race to make his train on time.

According to the board, trains left soon for Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice.

Chills ran up Bianca’s spine; this was wonderful. Not only because it made her father squirm, but because she felt young again. Truly, for the first time since setting foot back in Italy, she felt like she was accomplishing what she’d set out to do: find that twenty-two-year-old badass who’d had it all figured out.

Enough worrying about her next move. Enough beating herself up over the book. Time to let Italy wrap her silks around her.

“South or north, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, his white tennis shoes so bright that they almost gave off a glow.

“We can stop anywhere. Pick one.”

“What if we can’t find a place to stay?”

“There’s always a place. Have you ever been to Venice?”

He shook his head, a shy little boy all over again.

“How about it?”

He shrugged.

“Done. Leaves in nineteen.” Before he could disagree, she went to buy tickets.

They approached the departure board, waiting for the gate announcement. A family next to them dug into a bag of fast food. The smell of french fries spread into the air.

George pulled close the carry-on rolling bag she’d lent him. “How come the gate isn’t listed? The train leaves in a few minutes.”

The exhilaration of the unknown filled every cell of Bianca’s being. “This is how it always works. They let you know about ten minutes out.”

He let out a sigh of disgust. “Back in the States, you’d know the gate yesterday.”

“Dad, how many trains have you ridden in the States?”

When he didn’t answer, she said, “Yeah, exactly. Don’t worry, we’ll catch it.”

For the next five minutes, he watched the departure board like a hungry dog staring at his owner. When the gate was finally announced, George shot in that direction. It was hard not to get edgy around him, but she kept reminding herself to stay patient.

Once they found their seats, Bianca watched George as he studied the others getting on board. What was going on in this man’s head?