The Five-Day Dig (10 page)

“As usual, you’re analyzing something that needs no explanation. Let’s talk about something else. What’s the opportunity that came up for you?”

Winnie continued frowning at the painting. A shade of an idea teased her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. It’s late here. Give Eddie and the kids my love.”

“OK. Good night.”

“
Buona notte
.”

She put the phone down then climbed onto the bed in a kneeling position to get a closer look at the painting. Simple rigid lines composed the two figures, but the throne boasted delicate details. The artist had placed the emphasis on the
seat
. It reminded her of something ... but what?

After pondering it for another moment, she had to concede defeat. Maybe it would come to her at some random time when she wasn’t trying so hard.

She got off the bed, lit the candle for Sam as promised,
then
sent him a short text message. After waiting a few seconds to see if he responded, she set the phone on the nightstand and lay down with a book:
Metamorphoses
by Apuleius.

An hour or so later, her phone buzzed with a text. She snatched it up and checked the screen, but the message was from Chaz. He’d never texted her before. Concerned that he might have a problem, she clicked on the message.

“
r
u up?” it read.

That didn’t sound urgent. She recalled that she was annoyed at him for blabbing her news to Farber after she had told him not to. Pursing her lips, she thumb-typed a response: “
aren’t
u on a date?”

His answer came back quickly: “ditched me 4 dunk.”

She rolled her eyes but had to admit to herself that the bluntness of his response kind of amused her. She typed, “
what
do u want?”

“
got
info about the dig,” he wrote. “
can
i come by?”

The promise of new details about the project interested her, but seeing him this late at night didn’t seem appropriate. His comment in the car about coming to her room popped into her mind. Did he remember it?
Doubtful.
It hadn’t meant anything to him.

She glanced at the digital alarm clock on the night table: 23:30 – almost midnight. Shaking her head to herself, she typed, “can u wait till morning?”

“
rather
not.
excited
.”

A laugh slipped out of her. “
u
always r,” she wrote.

His answer came back a minute later: “u don’t want 2 douse my enthusiasm?”

That possibility didn’t worry her, but she did feel another tug of curiosity. She was still dressed and didn’t feel tired. Giving in, she wrote, “ok, 4 a few minutes.”

“
cool
.
tvb
.”

The abbreviation drew a blank, but before she had time to question him about it, a knock sounded at the door. She got up, checked the peephole, and opened the door for him.

“What does ‘TVB’ stand for?” she asked.

He grinned at her.
“
Ti voglio bene
.
I picked up the abbreviation from the locals.”

“That’s how they sign off from texting?” She stepped back to let him inside. “I thought it meant, ‘I love you’ – roughly.”

“Roughly, it can, but translated more literally, it’s ‘I wish you well.’ I figured, being language-oriented, you’d translate it literally.”

He understood how her mind worked, she thought, impressed and flattered. “If I’d thought about it, I would have, assuming I knew what the initials stood for.”

“Now you do. Of course, the Italians do express affection more freely than we Anglos. They also close texts and e-mails with
un
abraccio
or
un bacio
. Would you rather I do that?”

A hug
or
a kiss
? She shot him a wry look but didn’t dare hold his gaze. “Didn’t we cover this earlier?”

“We didn’t exhaust the subject.”

“We’re not going to.”

He glanced around the small room, furnished with only a double bed, a dresser and a nightstand. His gaze came to rest on the burning candle. “I like the mood lighting.”

His flirting seemed to have stepped up a notch. Was there some way she was encouraging him?
Pheromones?
Letting him in her room at midnight?
Foolish mistake.

She walked over to the lamp and turned it all the way up.
“Why did you tell Dr. Farber about ‘The Five-Day Dig’ when I asked you not to?”

His eyes widened. “I thought he knew. I didn’t run into him until half-eight. I was sure by then you would have told him.”

She had to admit that any reasonable person would have told him by then. “OK. I can understand that.” Sitting down on the bed near her pillow, she asked, “So, what’s the scoop that brings you here?”

He took a seat at the foot of the mattress – a position she noted with heightened awareness. “Enza and I ran into Dunk Mortill at the wine bar. Being acquainted with him personally is brilliant.”

“Even when he steals your date?”

He gave her a mischievous look. “I suppose you were right when you said I wouldn’t get anywhere with Italian girls.”

Repeated to her, the words sounded horrendous. “Did I really say that?”

“I knew you were just jealous.”

She looked away. In retrospect, the comment did sound like jealousy.
How mortifying.
Scrambling to make light of it, she could only manage a grimace, no retort.

He picked up the book she’d been reading and studied the cover. “Dunk filled us in about the grocery list and the
triticum purpurea
.”

“So he told you I translated the recipe.” To distract herself, she picked up her phone and checked text messages.
None in the last two minutes.
No surprise there. “What else did you find out?”

“One of the local punters says he has this purple wheat growing wild on his land. Dunk is getting some tomorrow so he can brew the recipe. We’ll have the beer in time for shooting.”

She snorted. “Well, I guess if we have to do experimental archaeology, we might as well be drunk for it.”

Laughing, he flipped through her book. “Instead of
‘In vino veritas
,’ our motto will be
‘In cerevisia veritas’
: ‘In beer, there is truth.’ ”

“Good one.
Anything else?”

“Dunk mentioned you’re going to be a priestess for the reenactment segment of the episode.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, no, I’m not. I’m taking a background role, if any.”

“You’re the only one who speaks Latin well enough to lead the rituals.”

She weighed the point,
then
shook her head. “Wouldn’t doing them in English make the segment more accessible to viewers?”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” He closed her book and set it aside on the mattress. “I’ll be a supplicant begging for your favor. Of course, I’m used to that role.”

Since he had been an ace student and a top-notch assistant, the remark was absurd – or laced with double entendre. “Oh, please!” She snatched up her book and put it on the nightstand. “Didn’t you learn anything relevant to the dig itself?”

“Not much. One thing is that Signore Rentino is limiting the area where we can excavate. Enza is furious with him.”

She shrugged. “We only have five days to excavate, anyway. How much can we get done in that time?”

“Also, their house is being prepared for us to shift into. It will be much more posh than this place.” He looked around again. “My room here is even smaller than yours.”

“Well, it’s time for you to get back to it.” She went to the door and opened it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 
He took his time about getting up, smiling pointedly at her as he did.

That was when she knew for sure that he was every bit as conscious of the intimacy of the setting as she was – and that her nervousness about it amused him.

“
Buona notte
, Chaz.”

“
Buona nott
e, Winnie.”
His gaze locked on hers. “Remember: We’re meeting for breakfast.”

She couldn’t hold his stare.
“Right.”

As soon as he exited, she shut the door and locked it.

Egads.
She combed her fingers through her hair. He had always been a bit of a flirt, but before this trip she had shrugged off his wisecracks without any thought. She still didn’t believe for a second that her own misplaced lust was requited. He was teasing her, and she was feeding the joke by responding like a schoolgirl.

Now they were lined up to work side-by-side on an intense project in a foreign country. The temptation would be to stick close to him, but she couldn’t let him get any further under her skin. She had to back away. Having breakfast with him the next morning might be OK, but the late-night visits to her room and the car rides alone with him had to stop.

Sighing, she went into the small bathroom off her room and splashed cold water on her face. On top of all her other qualms about doing “The Five-Day Dig,” she couldn’t believe she was battling a crush on her TA.

She wondered what had really happened on his date with Enza Rentino. Even if the girl was a little
starstruck
by Dunk, it seemed unlikely she’d be attracted to a guy the same age as her father. Maybe she’d keep seeing Chaz, and he wouldn’t have time to hound Winnie. Then Winnie could console herself by flirting with Domenico.

For the sake of her dignity, she hoped so.

S
ETTE

F
IRST THING IN
the morning, Winnie checked e-mail and text messages. Sam still hadn’t responded, but she had a message from Liz inviting her to accompany the Weiland U crew that evening on a light-and-sound tour of
Pompeii
.

At first she wanted to bow out. Her family had gone to Pompeii on that fatal vacation, and she still felt reluctant to return to the places they’d visited. On the other hand, she had wonderful memories of the ancient town, and if she went tonight, she would be visiting in the dark, which would be a different experience. She’d also been handling
Italy
well so far. Why not push
herself
a little further?

She wrote back and accepted but added a request for Liz to call her as soon as she got a chance.

On her way to the breakfast room, her phone rang with the call. She explained her misgivings to Liz, and her friend assured her that in a worst-case scenario, they could leave the tour early.