Love & Gelato (12 page)

“Well, I definitely owe him an apology. Do you by chance know his last name?”

“Ferrari or something? They live in a house that looks like gingerbread.”

He laughed. “Say no more. The Ferraras. How lucky that you ran into him. I didn't realize their son was your age or I would have tried to arrange for you guys to meet. Is the party with your other classmates?”

“Potential
classmates,” I said quickly. “I'm not sure if I want to go.”

His smile just increased in wattage, like he hadn't heard me. “Ren wanted me to tell you that he can't make it until eight thirty. I'll make sure dinner is ready before then so you have plenty of time to eat. And we should look into getting you a cell phone—that way your friends won't have to call at the visitors' center.”

“Thanks, but that would probably be overkill. I only know one person.”

“After tonight you'll know more. And in the meantime you can just give people my number so they don't have to call the cemetery line. Oh, and good news. Our Internet connection is finally sorted out, so FaceTime should work great.” He set the papers on the porch. “I need to head down to the visitors' center, but I'll see you a little later. Enjoy your run.” He turned and went into the house, whistling quietly to himself.

I squinted after him. Was
Howard
my mom's wrong choice? And what about the party? Did I really want to go meet a bunch of strangers?

“What about this?” I walked up to my laptop and twirled around so Addie could see what I was wearing.

She leaned in, her face filling the screen. She'd just woken up and her smudged eyeliner was kind of making her look like a blond vampire. “Hmm. Do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be honest?”

“Is there a possibility that you could you be both?”

“No. That shirt looks like it's been wadded up in the bottom of a suitcase for three days.”

“Because it has.”

“Exactly. My vote is the black-and-white skirt. Your legs are killer and that skirt is maybe the only thing you have that doesn't look awful.”

“Whose fault is that? You're the one who talked me into binge-watching
America's Next Top Model
instead of doing my laundry.”

“Listen, it's all about priorities. One of these days I'm going to grow ninety inches, and then I'm totally going to be on that show.” She sighed dramatically, attempting to wipe some of the makeup off her eyes. “I can't believe you're going to a
party.
In
Italy.
I'm probably just going wind up stuck at Dylan's again night.”

“You like going to Dylan's.”

“No, I don't. Everyone just sits around talking about all the stuff we could do, but then no one makes a decision and we end up playing foosball all night.”

“Look on the bright side. He has that downstairs freezer full of burritos and churros. Those are pretty good.”

“You're right. Eating mass-produced churros totally sounds better than going to a party in Italy.”

I picked up my computer, then flopped onto my bed, setting it on my stomach. “Except I don't like going to parties, remember?”

“Don't say that. You used to.”

“And then my mom got sick and no one knew what to say to me anymore.”

She set her mouth in a line. “I honestly think some of that's in your head. People just don't want to say the wrong thing, you know? And you have to admit you shut people down a lot.”

“What do you mean? I don't shut people down.”

“Um, what about Jake?”

“Who's Jake?”

“Jake Harrison? Hot senior lacrosse player? Tried to ask you out for like two months?”

“He didn't ask me out.”

“Because you kept avoiding him.”

“Addie, I could barely go thirty minutes without talking about my mom and crying. Think he would have been into that?”

She frowned. “Sorry. I know it's been rough. But I think you're ready now. In fact, I'm making an official prediction: Tonight you will meet and fall in love with hottest boy in all of Italy. Just don't fall so in love that you don't want to come home again. It's already been the longest three days of my life.”

“Mine too. So, black-and-white skirt?”

“Black-and-white skirt. You'll thank me later. And call me as soon as you're home. I want to talk more about the journal. I think I'm going to hire a film crew to start following you around. Your life would make awesome TV.”

“Lina! Dinner is ready.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I'd gone against Addie's advice and settled on my favorite jeans. And I was way too nervous to eat.

I guess there's a first for everything.

“Did you hear me?” Howard called.

“Coming!”

I put on some lip gloss and smoothed my hair one last time. I'd had to spend a solid forty-five minutes with a flat iron, but at least now my hair looked like a normal person's. Not that that was any sort of guarantee. If someone looked at it funny, it would assume its natural craziness in about half a second.
You're sort of like Medusa,
Addie had once told me helpfully.

Howard met me at the bottom of the stairs and handed me a giant bowl of pasta. I could tell he was making a big effort to make things feel less tense, and so far it was working.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I'm sorry about dinner being so late. We had an issue with maintenance. I thought I was going to be working all night.”

“That's okay.” I set my bowl down. “And thanks for dinner, but I'm actually not all that hungry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not hungry? How many miles did you run today?”

“Seven.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I guess I'm kind of nervous.”

“I understand. Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking. But they're going to love you.”

BEEP!
We both looked out the window to see Ren driving up the road on a shiny red scooter. My stomach clenched.
Why did I agree to go?
Was it still possible to get out of it?

“That's the Ferrara boy?”

“Yes.”

“He's early. He's not taking you on that scooter, is he?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I shot Howard a hopeful glance. Maybe he'd say I couldn't go! That would solve everything. Except, are brand-new fathers allowed to tell you what you can and can't do?

Howard crossed the living room in three long strides, then opened the door. “Lorenzo?”

I hurried after him.

“Hi, Howard. Hi, Lina.” Ren was wearing jeans and expensive-looking sneakers. He pulled the scooter back onto a kickstand, then bounded up the stairs, his hand extended to Howard. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I'm really sorry about the mix-up on the phone earlier. I had you confused with someone else.”

“That's okay. I'm just glad to know you're not going to come after me with a chainsaw anymore.”

Oh, boy. Howard was really taking his new role seriously.

“Lina, you ready to go?” Ren asked.

“Um, I think so. Howard?” I looked at him hopefully. He was eyeing Ren's scooter, his face grim.

“You been driving that thing for a while?”

“Since I was fourteen. I'm a really safe driver.”

“And you have an extra helmet?”

“Of course.”

Howard nodded slowly. “All right. Drive carefully. Especially on the way back.” He tilted his head toward me. “
È nervosa. Stalle vicino
.”

“
Si, certo
.”

“Um, excuse me. What was that?” I asked.

“Man talk,” Ren said. “Come on. We're missing the party.”

Howard handed me his cell phone and a twenty-euro bill. “Take this, just in case. The cemetery's number is in there. If I don't answer, Sonia will. What time will you be home?”

“I don't know.”

“I can have her back whenever,” Ren said.

“Let's say one.”

I looked at him.
One?
He must really want me to make friends.

Howard settled himself on the porch swing and I followed Ren to his scooter, where he handed me a helmet from the compartment under the seat.

“Ready?” Ren asked.

“Ready.” I clambered awkwardly onto the back, and suddenly Ren and I were zipping down the road, cool air flowing past us. I grabbed tight around Ren's waist, grinning like an idiot. It was like riding on a motorized armchair, superfast and supercomfortable. I glanced back to see Howard watching from the porch.

“Why do you call him ‘Howard'?” Ren shouted over the noise of the scooter.

“What else would I call him?”

“ ‘Dad'?”

“No way. I haven't known him long enough.”

“You haven't?”

“Just . . . long story.” I quickly changed the subject. “Where's the party?”

He paused to signal at the main road, then turned away from Florence. “At my friend Elena's house. We always go there because she has the biggest house. Her mom is a descendant of the Medici, and they have this giant villa. You can always tell when Elena's had too much to drink because she starts telling people that back in the day they would have been her servants.”

“What's the Medici?”

“Really powerful Florentine family. They basically funded the Renaissance.”

I had a sudden image of a teenage girl in flowing robes. “Did I dress up enough?”

“What?”

I repeated my question.

He slowed for a red light, then turned to look at me. “You look great. We're wearing the same thing.”

“Yeah, but you look . . .”

“What?”

“Cooler.”

He tipped his head back so our helmets
clacked
. “Thanks.”

THE DRIVE TO ELENA'S HOUSE
took forever. For-
ev
-er. By the time Ren signaled to pull off the main road, my legs were going numb.