An Apartment in Venice

by Marlene Hill

  “You didn’t need to know.”

  “Yes. Yes I did. I thought we had this “partnership conversation.”

  “After I got back. Hell, you may wish I’d stop sharing my thoughts.”

  “Try me. I’ll ask again. How do you really feel about resigning?”

  “Ready. My only dread is all those exit forms Tom warned me about. For the immediate future, though, I have a better idea in mind. How about taking a nap with me?” He began to loosen the ties on her halter.

  She stretched up on her toes and put her arms around his neck. “That can be arranged.” And her pretty dress slid to the floor.

  * * *

  On the train returning to Venice the following afternoon, Giulia noticed Chuck was visibly weary. But no more mothering. She remembered her mom and dad calling each other mommy and daddy instead of their own names. She’d always hated that. Nonno Tony and Nonna don’t forget who they are to each other, and she could hardly wait to tell them the latest news. She hadn’t mentioned a word during their last conversation, wanting to tell them face to face. She had a hunch they wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe they could go . . .

  “Saw Ryland today,” Chuck said as they moved closer to the window to allow another passenger in the compartment. “More news about old Ollie.”

  Giulia roused from her thoughts, “What?”

  Chuck lowered his voice. “Someone found him in his apartment in Maryland with his wrists cut. He hadn’t slashed them deeply. Like many first attempts, he’d pulled the knife across his veins, not in their line of direction. For now, though, he’s undergoing medical and psychological evaluations. I expect he’ll be in a hospital for a while.”

  “I should call Rafe Lyne to see what he knows,” Giulia said. “So much has been going on, I haven’t thought about Oliver.”

  “As your attorney, Rafe should have called you. Want me to call him?”

  “No. Unless you’d prefer since you insist on paying for his services.”

  “Nope. It’s your deal,” he said “Maybe the military legal eagle who represents me will have information. Let’s call them now.”

  They both pulled out their cell phones and punched in numbers. Chuck had to leave a message, but Giulia connected with Rafe Lyne. The train’s wheels were hitting seams in the tracks and he couldn’t make out much about her conversation. Even after the track smoothed out, she said little. She nodded a time or two, said words like “I see,” and “interesting,” and “that is amazing.” Then she thanked him and asked to be kept informed.

  “What’s the scoop?”

  Giulia turned in her seat toward Chuck, “He told much the same story you heard. For now, he believes the case will be held over until Oliver’s pronounced fit to stand trial. If ever. But Rafe feels relatively sure—you know attorneys—that Oliver’s attempt at a counter suit will fall flat. Too many women have come out of the woodwork. Once the news about Oliver’s arrest went into the university’s international newsletter, messages started coming in.”

  “Did he say whether the search warrant was executed?”

  “Yes. Wednesday, May twenty-first. You were still missing.” She opened her phone to check her calendar and said, “That’s the day I met with Colonel Ryland to find out if he knew what had happened to you.”

  “What else did your attorney tell you?”

  “Rafe wasn’t free to tell me what they found in the villa only that it damned Oliver’s case. Well, we know what they found, don’t we?”

  “Too bad the search warrant didn’t allow them into the personnel files,” Chuck grumbled. “For one thing, they could have communicated directly with many women.”

  “True, but don’t forget what Susan Riggs told me, or rather what she didn’t tell me, about finding things in his office that damned him.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

  “Rafe seemed flabbergasted that U. of Maryland’s education programs on military posts are so far-reaching. It was obvious he was reading a report of places the women had written from. He mentioned Garmisch, Mannheim and Stuttgart in Germany. Also Naples.”

  Chuck nodded. “There’s a huge U.S. Naval establishment in Naples.”

  “And, let’s see,” she said, “somewhere in the Netherlands. Oh yes, Volkél, is that the right pronunciation?”

  “No. Volkel sounds like local, no accent on the last syllable, it’s in southern Netherlands. I’ve flown into Volkel a time or two. It was a Dutch air base before the Second World War, then the Germans took it over, and now it’s Dutch again with a big U.S. presence.”

  “Is there a place you haven’t flown into?” she said looking at him with what he “thought” was admiration. Whatever it was, he loved it when her eyes glowed for him like that.

  He kissed her lightly and said, “Sorry. What else did Lyne say.”

  “He said letters had also come from Ismir, Turkey and Kabul, Afghanistan and uh… Camp something in Kuwait.”

  Ogle’s influence was far-reaching,” Chuck said.

  “It seems Oliver has only been stationed here and at Stuttgart. Evidently women moved on. I had the idea he wasn’t finished with the list, but he changed the subject and emphasized that the most destructive part—to Oliver’s case—was those events happened over a long period of time.”

  Chuck nodded slowly. “That would indicate a long-term pattern.”

  “You know, Oliver might be held in a hospital for the criminally insane,” she said. “Remember how Ezra Pound was held in one for twelve years until the political climate changed and he was finally released?”

  “It’s different. Pound was charged with treason during wartime. Ogle’s charged with criminal assault and can’t be released on the whim of a politician.”

  “Well, I hope he’s never released and that I’ll never have to testify.”

  “Could he have been faking his suicide?”

  “Maybe,” Giulia said, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. If you could have seen him that day. He was agitated. Sweating—shew! The feral odor that came off him was horrible. Not an ordinary gym-shoes-sweat smell, something else. And at times, he bounced that pencil on his desk faster and faster. I think he’s probably insane.” She heaved a big sigh. “I guess my druthers would be to have him stand trial after all and be convicted. I don’t want him to get out of facing charges by pleading insanity, only to be a good boy and pronounced fit to start all over again.”

  Giulia leaned back against the cushions of the train compartment and stared at the flat, marshy land sliding past the train window. Chuck put his arm around her shoulders. “Micina? Thoughts?”

  “I’m trying to talk myself out of feeling guilty for his fate. He is rotten. I know that, but, still, I’m the one who brought him down.”

  “Someone had to.”

  “I’m thinking I’m a jinx to bad guys. First Botteri and now Ogle.”

  “Oh yes. This small woman dances into their fine ‘upright’ lives and wields an overwhelming power to destroy them.”

  She chuckled. “Put that way, I guess I’ve given this small woman far too much power, haven’t I?”

  “Not to me. You have utmost power over me, babe.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It was Saturday. They both slept later than usual, but when Chuck woke and reached for Giulia, she wasn’t beside him. What am I going to do with this monster woody? He heard her talking to someone in the kitchen. Shit. Who’s here on Saturday morning? As soon as he neared the kitchen, though, he deduced she was finishing up a call with her grandparents. As soon as she lay her phone down, he lifted her into a long, body-hugging embrace making sure she felt all of him.

  She tilted her head back and said, “How would you like to visit i nonni this afternoon?”

  “Sounds good to me. They’re one of the best parts of my life, but we don’t have to leave yet, do we?”

  “No need to rush. I understand your need to catch up on your rest.”

  “What I need to catch up on
is you. Hope you might need more time, too.”

  “What kind of time?” she asked with a wicked little smile.

  Ah ha. She had felt the monster. “Shall I explain or demonstrate?”

  “Both. I love it when you tell and show.”

  “How about I show first?” And he backed her toward the bedroom.

  * * *

  “So,” Chuck said sipping his second cup of coffee. “How are Maria Grazia and Tony doing?”

  “They’re thrilled about your recovery and want us to enjoy the fruits of their spring garden. And I want to tell them face-to-face about us.”

  “Me too. Have you told anyone else yet?”

  “No. But as soon as we tell them, I’ll tell my parents, and Marlowe and Marc, and Nancy, for sure. Knowing her, she’ll want me to force you into a pre-nup.”

  “Whatever, micina. I know how the burden of wealth must weigh on you.”

  “She’ll want it because she doesn’t know you. But I don’t because I do.”

  Chuck thought women always rushed to tell friends and family they were getting married. “Giulia?”

  “Hmm,” she said as she pulled out ingredients to make pancakes.

  “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

  When she turned to see a pained look on his rugged face, she dropped the bag of leftover bread on the counter and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Because,” and she drew out the word, “I wanted to savor the idea all to myself for a little while.”

  “Oh.” He let go the breath he’d been holding and remembered that was pretty much what he’d told Tom.

  “Have you told anyone?”

  “Only Tom. Marc and Marlowe and Ryland are next on my list and maybe Gene Linch.”

  “Gene Linch?”

  “The fellow I dragged away from the explosion. He has the idea he owes me big time.”

  “Does it have anything to do with ancient Chinese legends?”

  He snorted. “Nope. He came up with his own version all by himself.”

  “Do you like him, or is he being a nuisance?”

  “He’s a good man but seems to have a bad case of hero worship. But what the hell. Life has a way of coming back at you. He might come in handy when we move into our ideal apartment.”

  “Hunh. By that time, his idol may have lost his glitter.”

  Chuck laughed. “That’s very possible.”

  “Are you in the market for pancakes this morning?”

  “Always.”

  “These are Lettie’s recipe. They’re made mostly with breadcrumbs. After I pulverize these hunks of leftover bread, I’ll add a bit of flour and cinnamon and a drop or two of honey. You’ll like them. Would you be willing to go out for a fresh lemon for the honey-lemon syrup?”

  “Consider it done,” he said as he stepped close behind her and pulled an appliance from a top shelf. “You might like to use this heavy-duty blender to make bread crumbs.”

  She arched back against him and waggled her butt. “I do like being near a man equipped for everything.”

  “You imp. Keep that up and the lemon will be a forgotten fruit.”

  * * *

  “Where will you get married?” Nonna asked. They were still sitting around the kitchen table after eating perfect penne tossed with sautéed red and yellow bell peppers, juicy tomatoes and fresh basil all from her greenhouse garden.

  “I’ve been away too long from Portland to expect Mom and Dad to do a wedding for me. Besides, we want to make our own plans.” She looked over at Chuck.

  Maria Grazia caught Tony’s eye. A swift communication passed between them. Then she stood and began clearing the plates. Giulia rose to help and continued, “Not in a church, neither one of us is religious.” She looked at Chuck again. “Right?”

  He nodded. He didn’t care where or how—as long as it happened. “I’m sure we can find a good setting,” he said. “I’ve been to a couple of classy civil weddings in the city. I’ll ask around.”

  “You could get married here,” Nonna said softly, bringing to the table a pear torta. Nonno Tony nodded and put his arm around Nonna’s waist.

  Chuck saw the torta and sighed. “Nonna, I was told to gain weight, but after this meal, they’ll be putting me on a diet. Your entire meal has been fabulous. Are these pears from your tree?”

  She nodded with a big smile. “Last year’s crop.”

  “Unless you want to wait until winter,” Tony interrupted, “we could have a garden wedding. When do you plan to marry?”

  “Soon!” Then Chuck knew he sounded desperate. “How about late summer or early fall? Ought to be beautiful out there.” He recalled their garden sloped down to a stream flowing through a grove of spindly alders and maples.

  Giulia looked at Chuck. Their eyes met in agreement. “Sweet idea,” she said. “I hadn’t thought that far. Only wanted to come tell you about our decision. Do you think Mom and Dad will be okay with us having the wedding in Italy instead of the States?” She laid dessert plates and silverware on the table.

  “Don’t think it matters whether they like it or not,” Nonno Tony said. “It’s your wedding. But I bet they’d love to come back for it. And I’d help the twins on expenses if they want to come, too. Lots of estate sales go on in late summer. I could take the boys to a few.”

  When they’d finished eating, Nonna said, “Tony, you can tend to the coffee, I want to ask Giulia about a weaving project.”

  In her workroom, Nonna showed Giulia a piece on her loom. It had geometric designs in the same brilliant blue and old-gold colors as the scarf Giulia had fallen for almost three months ago. “What do you think of this as a winter throw for that big couch in your apartment?

  “Did you have to ask? It’s gorgeous.”

  Mostly I want to know what you think of my plan for the final border. The blue in the body is the same as your blue eye, and I’m thinking the border might be a grey yarn with a silvery thread running through it.”

  “For Chuck’s silver eyes,” Giulia said softly.

  “Do you think he’ll approve?”

  “I do,” Giulia said. They hugged, swaying back and forth. “Nonna, you worked on this before you knew about our plans.”

  “Magari! Tony and I just knew it would happen and we’re thrilled for you both. That young man adores you, you know.” Nonna’s eyes glistened.

  “Let’s get him in here.”

  Of course Chuck approved and was moved that Nonna had done so much work for them and would edge it to match his own odd eyes.

  They all gathered in the kitchen for coffee and more wedding talk.

  “Dino’s been wanting to build an arbor out there,” Nonno said. “I know he’d like to create one for your wedding. He often asks about you, Giulia. Do you remember the teeter-totter that used to sit under the big oak?”

  Giulia beamed at the thought, nodding her head.

  “When you were about three, he and his wife, Donatella, took you to the city park once—I forget the occasion—and he couldn’t get enough of your giggles on the seesaw. So he built one for you here. Every time he pretended to fall-boom, as you called it, you’d burst into tinkling laughter. Every single time.” Nonno Tony laughed at the memory. “Chuck, it was quite a sight. Dino’s about your size.”

  “Dino? Wasn’t there a Dino helping out after your break-in?”

  Tony nodded. “An old comrade from years back. Seems to think he owes me for something long ago. Dino Salvatore is the town butcher, but his skills are not limited to butchering. He’s an excellent carpenter.”

  “Was he a comrade from the forties?” Chuck asked, wondering again about the Italian Resistance.

  Tony looked directly into Chuck’s eyes and said, “Something like that.”

  Chuck held Tony’s gaze for a second, nodded and said no more. He understood that some secrets a man couldn’t reveal even when the time for secrecy had long passed.

  * * *

  As they drove back to Venice Sunday afternoon, Chuck said, “
It’s settled. We’ll get married at our grandparents’ place. I mean your grandparents. How quickly I’ve adopted them.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way because, for sure, the feelings are mutual. Guess we need to settle on a date and let people know. I’m going to ask Nancy to be my maid of honor and leave it at that. Don’t want lots of fuss.”

  “Good. Keep it simple. I’ll ask Tom to stand for me. I’m kind of torn between Tom and Marc. Both go way back, but I guess I’m bonded—if that’s the right word—closer to Tom because of a couple of tight corners we’ve been through together.”

  “I bet Marc understands that.”

  “Yeah, I think he does. And he has Marlowe. Tom has no one right now.”

  “If Nancy can’t come, I’ll ask Marlowe. Our friendship has been short, but I feel certain it will last. What do you think about inviting Dr. Cornaro?”

  “A grand idea. I think she’d come,” Chuck said. “And how about Lieutenant di Stefano? I’m still grateful that he watched out for you.”

  “Yes. I bet he’d come. And Colonel Ryland and the men in your unit?”

  “We better make a list,” Chuck said.

  “Do you think your family will come?”

  “Pretty sure my sister, Anna, and her husband, Andy, will make it. My brothers? Maybe not. From what Anna tells me, though, they’re doing really well. Both are in AA and holding firm. When Dad died of liver failure, I think they finally ‘got’ it. Of course, I’ll invite them, you never know.”

  “Good. I’d like to meet all of them.”

  “Either way, the next time we’re in the States, I want us to visit them in New Jersey—on their turf.”

  “I’d like that.” She laid her hand on his thigh, and he placed his on hers. She remembered how nervous and thrilled she’d felt when he had put her hand there on that first trip. Not nervous anymore, but she did wonder what he’d say about her next confession.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The following Wednesday after making love, Giulia snuggled closer into Chuck’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe we ought to set the wedding date back a bit.”

  “Whatever you say.” He wasn’t focusing on her words so much as enjoying their comfortable sound.