Love & Gelato (23 page)

“Oh. Sure.” I'd practiced for this, but when I went to tell him my new number, I forgot and had to look at the paper I'd written it on.

“Great. I'll call you tomorrow.” He gave me a big hug, then clapped Ren on the shoulder. “See you around.”

“Later.” Ren turned to watch Thomas walk away and I used the opportunity to wipe my eyes. My mascara was everywhere.

“His shirt was really stupid, don't you think?”

“What?”

“ ‘Banned from Amsterdam.' No one gets banned from Amsterdam. That's the point.”

“I wouldn't know.”

“I'm really sorry about what happened in there. I shouldn't have left you alone.” He looked at me closer. “Wait a second. Are you crying?”

“No.” A giant tear rolled down my face. And then another.

“Oh, no.” He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “I'm so sorry. We'll never go there again.”

“I'm sorry. I feel really stupid. That guy was just so disgusting.” But that was only half the reason I was crying. I took a deep breath. “Ren, why did you tell Mimi my mom died?”

His eyes widened. “I don't know. It just came up. She was asking why you moved here and I just told her. Why? Did she say something?”

“You know, you don't have to feel sorry for me. It's not like I need you to read the journal and drive me around everywhere. I can figure this out on my own. I get that you have a life.”

“Whoa, what? I don't feel sorry for you. I mean, it's sad that you lost your mom and everything, but I hang out with you because I like to. You're . . . different.”

“Different?”

“You know, like we talked about last night. We're alike, you know?”

I ran my arm across my face. Because that was totally going to help the mascara situation. “Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. What brought that on?”

“Mimi—” I stopped. Did it matter? She was just a jealous girl. And every time Ren saw her he acted like he'd just won the lottery.

“Mimi what?”

“Never mind. Can we go to Piazza Signoria? I want to see that statue.”

WE WERE QUIET ON THE
drive to the piazza. It was after eleven and the city felt different. Sort of emptied out. Like me, after an embarrassing postclubbing cry fest. Ren pulled his scooter up to a curb and we both got off.

“This is it?”

“This is it. Piazza Signoria.” He was looking at me like I was a box of highly fragile dishes, but I
was
still covered in snot, so I guess he was justified.

I walked out into the piazza. One side was lined by a large fortress-looking building with a clock tower, and in front of that was a fountain with a statue of a man surrounded by smaller figures. A handful of people were milling around, but for the most part it was empty.

“What's that building?” I asked.

“Palazzo Vecchio.”

“Old something . . . Old palace?”

“
Esattamente.
You're getting good.”

“I know. I recognized the word ‘old.' I'm practically fluent.”

We smiled at each other. My eyes felt like water balloons, but at least I wasn't sniveling anymore. Sheesh. I was lucky Ren hadn't abandoned me at the nearest taxi stand.

“So what happened here again?” Ren asked.

“This is the first place he told her he loved her. They were looking at a statue. Something with ‘rape' in its name.”

“Oh, right.
The Rape of the Sabine Women
. I think it's under that roofed area.”

We made our way across the piazza, passing a bunch of other statues along the way, then walked under an arched entryway into what was basically a large patio filled with sculptures.

I recognized it right away. “There it is.”

The Rape of the Sabine Women
was made of white marble and sat high on a pedestal, the three figures intertwined in one tall column. I walked around it slowly. My mom was right. No one looked
happy
per se, but they were all connected and they definitely complemented each other. They were also all naked and their muscles and tendons were bulging out all over the place. Giambologna hadn't been kidding around.

Ren pointed. “Look how the woman is looking back at the other man. She definitely didn't want to go. And that guy on the ground looks totally spooked.”

“Yeah.” I folded my arms, looking up at the statue. “Is it just me, or is this a weird spot for Howard to tell my mom he loved her?”

“Maybe it just kind of happened. He got caught up in the moonlight or whatever.”

“But he was studying art history and he'd just told her the whole backstory. I'd be surprised if it didn't have some kind of significance to him.”

Ren hesitated. “Speaking of Howard . . . I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

He took a deep breath. “I sort of asked him about the secret bakery.”

I whirled around. “Ren! You told him about the journal?”

“No, of course not.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, avoiding my gaze. “It was when you were getting ready. I made up this whole story about my mom finding a secret bakery when she first moved here, and then I asked him if he knew where one was. I was going to surprise you and take you there tonight after Space.”

Finally he looked up at me with big, soulful eyes, and I sighed. It was like trying to be mad at a baby seal. “Did he tell you where it was?”

“No. That was the weird thing. He said he'd never been to one.”

I squinted at him. “What? And you described it to him?”

“Yeah. I tried to be vague so he wouldn't know I was talking about his date with your mom, but he acted like he had no idea.”

“So he didn't remember taking her there?”

He shook his head. “No, it was more than that. It was like he'd never even heard of Florence's secret bakeries.”

“
What?
That doesn't seem like something you'd forget.”

“I know, right?”

“Was he lying?”

“Maybe. But why would he?” He shook his head again. “For the past couple of hours I've been trying to come up with a reason why he'd forget about the bakery, but so far I have nothing. No offense, but your parents' story is kind of sketchy.”

I put my back to one of the columns, then slid to the ground with a
thud
. “You're telling me. Why do you think I'm reading the journal?”

He sat down next to me, then leaned in until our arms touched. “I really am sorry, though.”

I exhaled. “It's okay. And you're right. Something
is
weird. I've been thinking that all along.”

“Maybe you should ask him about something else from the journal. Like a test.”

“Like
The Rape of the Sabine Women
?” We looked up at it.

“Yeah. See what he does when you ask him about that.”

“Good idea.” I looked at the ground. Now it was my turn to hesitate. “So . . . I did something I should probably apologize for too.”

“What?”

“Back at Space, Mimi and I kind of got into this . . . argument, and I told her that you were ignoring her calls when we were at Ponte Vecchio.”

His eyes widened. “
Cavolo
. I'm guessing that's why she called me a
cretino
and left?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don't know what a
cretino
is, but I'm sorry. Thomas told me you've liked her for a long time, and I hope I didn't mess things up.”

“I'll call her when I get home. It'll be okay.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

I took a deep breath. “Hey, you know if you can't hang out with me anymore, I understand. It seems like it's kind of complicating things for you.”

“No. It's good complicated.” He pulled out his cell phone. “It's almost eleven thirty. Back to the cemetery?”

“Yeah. I should get back to the journal.”

“And the man of mystery.”

When I got home Man of Mystery was, inexplicably, taking a pan of muffins out of the oven.

“You're baking?”

“Yes.”

“It's almost midnight.”

“I specialize in late-night kitchen disasters. Also, I thought you might want a snack when you got home, and my blueberry muffins are legendary. And by ‘legendary,' I mean ‘edible.' Sit down.”

It was a command. I pulled out a chair and sat.

“So where did you go tonight?”

I hesitated for a second, then plunged in. “Space. It's a club near the Arno.”

He chuckled. “That place is still around?”

Phew
. At least he remembered Space. “Yes. Have you been there?”

“Lots of times. Your mother did too.”

I leaned forward. “So you guys like . . . went together?”

“Many times. Usually on nights we should have been studying. I don't know what it's like now, but it used to be the place to go for international students. Lots of Americans.” He transferred a couple of the muffins to a plate, then set it on the table, pulling up a chair.

“Space was kind of grimy. I didn't like it very much.”

“I never really did either. And I'm not much of a dancer.”

So I had him to thank for my dancing skills.

I took a muffin and broke it open, steam curling up toward my face.
Now or never.
“So, Howard, I have a question for you. You know a lot about art history, right?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “That's one thing I know plenty about. You knew I was teaching art history when your mom and I met, right?”

“Right.” I looked down at my muffin again and took a deep breath. “Well, Ren and I went for a drive after Space, and we stopped in this piazza. Piazza della Signoria? Anyway, there was an interesting statue, but we didn't know the history of it.”

“Hmm.” He stood up and grabbed a butter dish off the counter, then sat down again. “Lots of statues there. Do you know who it was by?”

“No. It was in this open-air gallery. Kind of like a covered patio. You can just walk in.”

“Oh, right. Loggia dei Lanzi. Let's see . . . there are the Medici lions, and the Cellini . . . What did it look like?”

“It was of two men and a woman.” I held my breath.

“Woman being carried away?”

I nodded.

He smiled. “
The Rape of the Sabine Women
. That one is actually pretty interesting, because the artist—Giambologna—didn't even think of it as a real piece. He just made it as an artistic demonstration to show that it was possible to incorporate three figures into one sculpture. He didn't even bother to give it a name, and then it ended up being the work he's best known for.”

Okay. Interesting, but not quite the story he'd told my mom. I tried again. “Do you know if my mom ever saw it?”

He cocked his head. “I don't know. I can't remember ever talking to her about Giambologna. Why? Did she tell you about it?”