The American Contessa (2 page)

“Not
the woman,” he said rather tersely, “Around her neck!”

Gaby
put her hand on his arm. No need for him to get too excited. After all, it was
just an old photo.
 
All of a sudden, his
words sank in and she looked again at the photo.

She
raised her eyebrows at him.
 
“The
necklace?”

“Beautiful,
isn’t it?
 
But it isn’t just any necklace,”
he lowered his voice. “The
Manetti
necklace.
 
See how the stones sparkle,
even in a photograph.
 
In reality it’s
amazing; a photo could never do it justice.”
 
Her grandfather elevated himself a little in
his bed, his eyes glittering like the jewels of which he was speaking. “Seven
perfect emeralds, surrounded by diamonds, created in 1756 for Countess Maria
Manetti.”

Gaby
looked at him curiously.
 
His trancelike
state when describing the necklace was a little scary in its intensity.
 
Biting her lip she asked the question foremost
on her mind, “Gran-pop, did you steal this necklace?”

“Yes…
and no,” he offered cryptically.

“Well,
which is it? Yes or no,” Gaby countered.

Her
grandfather perked up some more and he reached for her hand.
 
Holding it tightly, the years seemed to
dissipate as he began to tell her what happened.

“In
1952, I was invited to the Villa Manetti for the party of the season.
 
My … friend, Anna Barisconi was my
in
.”

“In?”

“Yes,
my contact, my
in
sider, the one who
could get me the invitation.
 
I knew the
jewels weren’t well protected.
 
It was a
particularly easy job.
 
It should have
been so simple.
 
But for some reason,
after I got the necklace, I heard the sirens start immediately outside.
 
Someone else knew that I planned to steal
them that night.
 
I’m still not sure who
that someone was.”
 
He paused a moment,
deep in thought.
 
“As the sirens grew
closer, I knew I couldn’t get away with the necklace, so I used my back-up plan.”

“Back-up
plan?” Gaby leaned closer towards him, barely controlling her excitement at his
words. “What was it?”

“Simple,”
he shrugged lightly. “I hid the necklace in a safe place, until I would have a
chance to return.”

“Oh,”
Gaby sighed, leaning back.
 
That wasn’t
quite the exciting, climactic ending she expected.
 

“Gaby,”
he said softly, “That’s why I called you.”

She
narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m not following you.”

“You
studied Italian in college, did you not?” he enquired.

She
frowned at him. “I majored in Romance Languages; Italian, French and
Spanish.
 
But I’m still not following you
Gran-pop …”

“I
want you to go to Florence and retrieve the necklace.”
 
His eyes held hers grimly –he was deadly
serious.

She
pulled her hand from his in fear, “What?”

“You
heard me.”
 
Turning away from her gaze,
he sadly looked out the window, his voice shaking. “I know what this place
costs, and I know that you and your sisters have sacrificed a lot to look after
me.
 
It’s my turn to make sure that
you’re
okay.”
 
He smiled slightly at her.
 
“I still have a few contacts that aren’t dead
that can fence the jewels, so I thought I better do it while I can.”

“Gran-pop,
I… I’m not a jewel thief,” Gaby stuttered. “I wouldn’t know how to be.
 
I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I get
nervous if my library book is overdue.”

He
chuckled at her reaction. “The fact that you didn’t say no straight away, or
walk out of here in righteous indignation tells me that I chose you wisely.”

“Chose
me?”

“Why,
yes. Of my three granddaughters, you, Gabriella, are the most like me,” he said
proudly. “Besides, you wouldn’t be stealing it, merely retrieving it from its
hiding place.”

Gaby
shook her head at him. “That doesn’t make it right.”
 

“Do
you know what a funeral costs Gabriella?” he stated forlornly. “Is it
right
that I leave you girls with the
burden of my death?”

“I
can’t,” she whispered at him.
 

“Think
about it, will you?” he replied simply. 

It
was no good.
 
She couldn’t sleep.
 
Tossing and turning, the events of the
previous day played over and over again in her mind.
 
And with them came the same response to her
Grandfathers request.
 
Preposterous!
 

Getting
out of bed, Gaby looked at the clock. It was 9 a.m.
 
Switching on the bathroom light, she caught a
glance of herself in the mirror.
 
The
same face that greeted her every morning for twenty-six years stared back at
her.
 
Her green eyes were definitely
brighter than usual, not to mention a little bloodshot.
 
The hair was a total disaster. The sample
size hotel conditioner just wouldn’t cut it this morning. Wearing a tight tank
top and shorts, she stretched her arms up over her head.
 

Thank
goodness she’d had the willpower to pass on the doughnuts that seemed to appear
in the faculty room every morning where she worked.
 
Altogether, her figure could be much worse
after spending a year with her sugar junkie colleagues. Curvy, but firm in all
the right places she noted, running her hands down her body.
 
Certainly not fit enough to leap across the
building tops of Florence to escape the law.
 
She trembled at the thought of carrying out such an escapade.
 

Of
course, the law wouldn’t be after her.
 
They thought the necklace stolen in 1952.
 
The current Count Manetti knew nothing of its
whereabouts.
 
It was only a case of
gaining access to the hiding place.
 
Gaby
bit her lip. Could she?
   

Shaking
her head at her reflection, she knew she didn’t have the intestinal fortitude
needed. Her Grandfather may think she was like him, but in truth her parents
influence was far more dominant when it came to being responsible, morally
upstanding and completely ... dull.
 
No,
she told herself, it wasn’t dullness –it was common sense.
 
How on earth could she even be considering
something so … so …, reckless and completely foolish.

Swallowing
hard the lump in her throat, she decided that when the time came, she would do
everything within her power to have the funds to send her Grandfather off in a
dignified and respectful way.
 
Besides,
she was sure that he was just trying to scare her into accepting his
proposition.
 
The old coot was nowhere
near death’s door.
 
There was simply too
much life in him.
 
And only the good die
young, don’t they?
 
Well, according to
the saying they do.
 
  

Her
cell phone rang and she jumped.
 
All this
talk of skullduggery had her nerves on edge.
 
Rushing to get it from the bedside table, the caller ID flashed
ominously,
Sunset Care Facility
.
 

“Hello?”
she answered breathlessly. “Yes, this is Gabriella Walker.”

“Miss
Walker, I’m calling regarding your Grandfather.”

Fearing
the worst, she sank down on the bed, “Oh my God.
 
Is he…?”

“No,
no, he’s fine.
 
I’m from the
administrative department.
 
It’s
regarding an outstanding balance owing on your Grandfathers medical
requirements.”

Gaby
let out a long breath and relaxed a little.
 
Unfortunately, by the time she’d finished the conversation, the tension
had returned two-fold.
 
It seemed there
had been a mistake in the calculation of her Grandfathers long term care and
the facility was hell-bent on rectifying the situation.
 
Oh, they were being most kind about it, and
giving her till the end of September to remit in total.
 

Sitting
in stunned silence, Gaby reviewed her options.
 
She could call her sisters and talk about how they were going to handle
it.
 
But Frances and Grace were no more
monetarily viable than she was at the moment.
 
Perhaps she could talk to the bank again about another loan?
 
Maybe sell her clunker of a car.
 
But the proceeds would be nowhere near what
was owed; and how then would she get to work.

Picking
up the phone again, she dialed absently.

“Hello
Gabriella,” he answered without fanfare. “I’m guessing you made a decision?”

“Tell
me everything I need to know,” she said quietly.

“Come
see me later today and I’ll fill you in,” he replied nonchalantly. “Cheer up
Gabriella, you’re going to Italy!”

Gaby
hung up the phone and let loose a long sigh.
 
Oh my god! This was a bad idea. And she was certifiable for sure. But
secretly she wondered if she was more exhilarated than terrified by the idea.

Settling
into her seat, Gaby fastened her seat belt in readiness for takeoff.
 

She
hated flying.
 

You
could quote the facts until you were blue in the face at her.
 
Automobiles were much more likely to have an
accident.
 
There was more chance of being
hit by a bus crossing the road. None of that mattered.
 
She was sure she was going to be one of the
unfortunate few that met their end having had airplane food for their last
meal.

Closing
her eyes, she wished for sleep to claim her for the next ten hours or so, and
that she’d awaken on the tarmac in sunny Italy.

“Are
you alright?” a deep voice to her left enquired.

Clutching
the armrests in a white-knuckled grip, Gaby replied without opening her eyes.
“I’ll be fine, as long as the pilot knows what he’s doing and stays clear of
the Italian Alps.”

“I’m
not exactly fond of flying myself.
 
It
helps to try not to think about.”

Thanks, you’re a
big help fella
.

Turning
towards the voice, Gaby found herself looking into the face of what could only
be described as the most attractive man she’d ever seen.
 
Although wearing what was obviously an
expensive designer suit, she couldn’t help thinking that he would look more at
home on a Californian beach, with his sandy windblown hair and blue, blue eyes.

Gaby
found her gaze drawn to his full lips and absently licked her own. Clearing her
throat she replied, “I know it’s irrational, but I just can’t wrap my head
around something so big, made of steel managing to stay up the air.
 
I mean really, it just shouldn’t be
possible!”
 
Oh no! Now she was
blathering. A full on case of verbal diarrhea could ensue at any moment!

“Hey?”
 
Reaching out, he placed a warm hand on her
arm. “I’m sure we’ll get there in one piece.”
 
He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
 
“Actually, I know for a fact that nothing can possibly happen to this
plane.”

His
breath was warm on her neck and she shivered. “How can you possibly know that?”
she asked nervously.

“Because
fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny me getting to know you,” he smiled sexily.

Gaby
opened her mouth, but “Oh” was all that came out.
 
She was, to put it bluntly,
flabbergasted.
 
Men, especially gorgeous
men, just didn’t say things like that to someone like her.
 
Of course, opportunities were limited when
you spent most days in the company of seven year olds.

It
was hard to believe that four days ago she’d been quite content to while away
the summer till school began again in September.
 
But now, she was sitting next to a charming,
too sexy for words, hunk of a guy who was flirting with her.
 
Why not just give in and enjoy the moment?
She could pretend to be anyone she wanted to be and no-one was around to say
otherwise.
 
But no.
 
Instead she was acting exactly like herself
 
-a socially stifled schoolteacher who spent
more time organising lessons than going out, and it showed.

Then
again, most schoolteachers were not on their way to Italy to steal a priceless
18th century necklace from a Count’s Florentine Villa, were they?
 
So much for acting like herself!

She
glanced nervously in his direction, afraid to make eye contact or speak.
 
Great! She was ‘now’ suffering from verbal
constipation!

“I’m
sorry if I’ve come on a little too strong,” he stated simply, “but in case you
haven’t noticed …”

“Yes?”
Gaby said expectantly, her eyes meeting his.

“…
we’re in the air,” he chuckled, removing his hand from her arm.

“Oh.
Yeah.
 
Right,” she stammered. Was he
laughing at her?
 
Talk about feeling like
a fool.
 
He was obviously just trying to
get her mind elsewhere during the takeoff.
 
Probably could sense her obvious terror and
didn’t want her going hysterical next to him, or clutching for the air sickness
bag and missing.
 

“David
Whittaker,” he held out his hand to formally shake hers.

Taking
his hand, she ignored the faint rumblings of awareness shooting through her
body. He was still devastatingly handsome, but for all his good looks, she
suddenly liked him less for making her feel foolish. “Gaby Walker,” she replied
in her best businesslike manner.
  

Gaby
tried to pull her hand away from his, but his grip was firm.
 
“You know Gaby, I really did mean what I said
about getting to know you.”

“Did
you?” she replied stiffly, finally extricating her hand from his.

“Yeah,
I did,” he laughed. “Just my luck this flight will take hours and I can do just
that!”

*****

The
flight from hell.
 
That’s what it was,
Gaby decided.
 
David Whittaker was not
the charmer she’d suspected, or rather hoped him to be.

Within
two hours of takeoff, her initial attraction had waned to the point of
pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak with him.
 
Not that she would have managed to get a word
in edgewise.
 
He was nothing if not vocal
about all aspects of his life.
 
In fact,
Gaby was pretty sure she could write the
David
Whittaker Story
for him if the occasion were ever to arise. So much for
wanting to get to know
her
.
 

“So
after I made my first million, I went back to my first love…”

Yourself?
Gaby thought sarcastically.

“…
race car driving,” he finished. “But I found it didn’t really fulfill me, you
know.”

Gaby
checked the overhead screen which showed the flight path, distance and expected
time of arrival.
 
Two more hours!
 
Ugh!

He
certainly gave new meaning to the song, “You’re so vain”.
 
Absently, Gaby began humming the Carly Simon
hit to herself and tuned him out.

“…
at the Manetti Villa.
 
Would you?”

Gaby’s
ears pricked up at the name.
Manetti?

“Huh?
What did you say?”
 
Did this guy even
notice she hadn’t been listening for the past five minutes?

“I’m
invited to a party at Luca Manetti’s on Saturday.
 
I was wondering if you’d like to go?” he
repeated, leaning intimately towards her.

Oh.
My. God. Gaby couldn’t believe it! Without even trying or having set foot in
Italy, she had her
In
.
 
“I’d love to David,” she replied as sweetly
as she could, holding her repulsion to his closeness at bay. “Tell me, how do
you know the Count?”

“Well,
it’s a long story …,” he began.

Gaby
inwardly groaned.
 
Oh, great! The next
two hours will just fly by!