Sonia nodded, her face expressionless, and Howard glanced at her, then back at me. “You’re probably feeling pretty tired. Is there anyone you want to get in touch with? I messaged your grandmother when your plane arrived, but you’re welcome to give her a call. I have an international plan on my cell phone.”
“Can I call Addie?”
“Is that the friend you were living with?”
“Yeah. But I have my laptop. I could just use FaceTime instead.”
“That might not work tonight. Italy isn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology, and our Internet connection has been pretty slow all day. Someone’s coming by to take a look at it tomorrow, but in the meantime you can just use my phone.”
“Thanks.”
He pushed back from the table. “Would anyone like some wine?”
“Yes, please,” Sonia said.
“Lina?”
“Uh . . . I’m kind of underage.”
He smiled. “Italy doesn’t have a drinking age, so I guess it’s a little different around here. But no pressure either way.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Be right back.” He headed for the kitchen.
The room was quiet for about ten seconds, and then Sonia set her fork down. “I’m so happy you’re here, Lina. And I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m just a stone’s throw away. Literally.”
“Thanks.” I trained my eyes on a spot just over her left shoulder. Adults were always trying too hard around me. They thought that if they were nice enough they could make up for the fact that I’d lost my mom. It was kind of sweet and horrible at the same time.
Sonia glanced toward the kitchen and then lowered her voice. “I wanted to ask you, would you mind stopping by my place sometime tomorrow? I have something I want to give you.”
“What?”
“We can talk about it then. Tonight you just focus on settling in.”
I just shook my head. I was going to do as little settling in as possible. I wasn’t even going to unpack my bag.
After dinner Howard insisted on carrying my suitcase upstairs. “I hope you like your room. I repainted and redecorated it a couple of weeks ago, and I think it turned out really nice. I keep most of the windows open in summer—it’s a lot cooler that way—but feel free to close yours if you’d prefer.” He spoke quickly, like he’d spent all afternoon rehearsing his welcome speech. He set my bag down in front of the first door.
“Bathroom is right across the hall, and I put some new soap and shampoo in there. Let me know what else you need and I’ll pick it up tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And like I said, the Internet’s been pretty spotty, but if you decide you want to try it out, our network is called ‘American Cemetery.’ ”
Of course it was. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
“Wall of the Missing. One word.”
“ ‘Wall of the Missing,’ ” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a part of the memorial. There are a bunch of stone tablets listing the names of soldiers whose bodies were never recovered. I can show you tomorrow if you’d like.”
Nooo, thank you. “Well, I’m pretty tired, so . . .” I edged toward the door.
He took the hint, handing me a cell phone along with a slip of paper. “I wrote down instructions for dialing the States. You have to put in a country code as well as an area code. Let me know if you have any trouble.”
“Thanks.” I put the paper in my pocket.
“Good night, Lina.”
“Good night.”
He turned and walked down the hall, and I opened the door and dragged my suitcase into the room, feeling my shoulders sag with the relief of finally being alone. Well, you’re really here, I thought, just you and your four thousand new friends. There was a lock on the door and I turned it with a satisfying click. Then I slowly turned around, steeling myself for whatever Howard had meant by “really nice.” But then my heart practically stopped, because wow.
The room was perfect. Soft light glowed from this adorable gold lamp on the nightstand, and the bed was antique-looking, with about a thousand decorative pillows. A painted desk and dresser sat on opposite sides of the room, and a large oval mirror hung on the wall next to the door. There were even a bunch of picture frames standing empty on the nightstand and dresser, like they were waiting for me to fill them up.
I stood there staring for a minute. It was just so me. How was it possible that someone who hadn’t even met me had managed to put together my perfect bedroom? Maybe things weren’t going to be so bad—
And then a gust of wind blew into the room, drawing my attention to the large open window. I’d ignored my own rule: If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. I walked over and stuck my head out. The headstones gleamed in the moonlight like rows of teeth, and everything was dark and eerily silent. No amount of pretty could make up for a view like that.
I pulled my head back in, then took the slip of paper out of my pocket. Time to start plotting my escape.
Chapter 2
SADIE DANES MAY BE ONE of the worst people on the planet, but she’ll always have a special place in my heart. After all, I owe her my best friend.
It was the beginning of seventh grade. Addie had just moved to Seattle from Los Angeles, and one day after gym class she’d overheard Sadie make a comment about how some of our classmates didn’t actually need bras. Which, be real—we were in seventh grade; only about one percent of us actually needed bras. It’s just that I was particularly less in need of one, and everyone knew she’d meant me. While I’d just ignored her (i.e., stuck my twelve-year-old head in my locker and blinked back tears), Addie had taken it upon herself to clothesline Sadie on her way out of the locker room. She’d stuck up for me that day and then never stopped.
“Go away. It might be Lina.” Addie’s voice sounded distant, like she was holding the phone away from her face. “Hello?” she said into the speaker.
“Addie, it’s me.”
“Lina! IAN, GET AWAY FROM ME.” There was some muffled yelling and then what sounded like a Mexican knife fight going on between her and her brother. Addie had three older brothers, and rather than baby her, it seemed they’d unanimously agreed to treat her as one of the guys. It explained a lot about her personality.
“Sorry,” she said when she was finally back on the phone. “Ian’s an idiot. Someone ran over his phone, and now my parents say I have to share mine. I don’t care what happened. I am not giving his caveman friends my phone number.”
“Oh, come on, they’re not that bad.”
“Stop it. You know they are. This morning I walked in on one of them eating our cereal. He’d poured an entire box into a mixing bowl and was eating it with a soup ladle. I don’t think Ian was even home.”
I smiled and shut my eyes for a moment. If Addie were a superhero, her power would be Ability to Make Your Best Friend Feel Normal. Those first dark weeks after the funeral, she’d been the one to get me out of the house on runs and insist I do things like eat and shower. She was the kind of friend you knew you couldn’t possibly deserve.
“Hold up. Why are we wasting time talking about Ian’s friends? I’m assuming you’ve met Howard.”
I opened my eyes. “You mean my father?”
“I refuse to call him that. We didn’t even know he was your father until like two months ago.”
“Less,” I said.
“Lina, you’re killing me. What’s he like?”
I glanced at my bedroom door. Music was still playing downstairs, but I lowered my voice anyway. “Let’s just say I need to get out of here. Right away.”
“What do you mean? Is he a creep?”
“No. He’s actually kind of okay. And he’s like NBA tall, which is surprising. But that’s not the bad part.” I took in a deep breath. She needed the full dramatic effect. “He’s the caretaker of a cemetery. Which means I have to live in a cemetery.”
“WHAT?
”
I was ready for her outburst, holding the phone a good three inches from my ear.
“You have to live in a cemetery? Is he like a gravedigger or something?” She whispered the last part.
“I don’t think they do burials here anymore. All the graves are from World War II.”
“Like that’s any better! Lina, we have to get you out of there. It isn’t fair. First you lose your mom, and then you have to move halfway across the world to live with some guy who suddenly claims to be your father? And he lives in a cemetery? Come on, that’s too much.”
I sat down at the desk, scooting the chair around until my back was to the window. “Believe me, if I’d had any idea of what I was getting into, I would have pushed back even harder. This place is weird. There are headstones all over the place, and it feels like we’re really far from civilization. I saw some houses on the road coming in, but besides that it looks like there’s just forest surrounding the cemetery.”
“Shut up. I’m coming to get you. How much does a plane ticket cost? More than three hundred dollars? Because that’s all I have after our little run-in with the fire hydrant.”
“You didn’t even hit it that hard!”
“Tell that to the mechanic. Apparently the whole bumper had to be replaced. And I blame it on you entirely. If you hadn’t been jamming out, I probably wouldn’t have had to join in.”
I grinned, pulling up my feet to sit cross-legged. “It is so not my fault that you can’t control yourself when old-school Britney Spears comes on the radio. But do you need help paying for it? My grandparents are in charge of my finances, but I get a monthly allowance.”
“No, of course not. You’re going to need your money to get home from Italy. And I really do think my parents will be on board with you living here again. My mom thinks you’re a good influence. It took her like a month to get over the fact that you put your dishes in the dishwasher.”
“Well, I am pretty remarkable.”
“Tell me about it. Okay, I’ll talk to them soon. I just have to wait until my mom chills out. She’s in charge of this big football fund-raiser for Ian, and you’d think she was throwing a debutante ball. Seriously, she is stressing out way too much. She totally lost it last night when none of us ate her noodle casserole.”
“I like her noodle casserole. The one with tuna, right?”
“Ew, you do not like it. You were probably just starving because you’d gone on a nine-hundred-mile run. Also, you eat everything.”
“True,” I admitted. “But, Addie, remember, it’s my grandma we need to worry about convincing. She’s super on board with me living here.”
“Which makes absolutely no sense. Why would she send you halfway across the world to be with a stranger? She doesn’t even know him.”
“I don’t think she knew what else to do. On the drive to the airport she told me she’s thinking about moving with my grandpa into an assisted care center. Taking care of him is getting to be too much.”
“Which is why you should live with us.” She exhaled. “Don’t worry. You just leave Grandma Rachelle to me. I’ll take her out to buy some of those butterscotch candies all old people love, and we’ll talk about why the Bennett house is your best option.”
“Thanks, Addie.” We both stopped talking, and the sound of insects and Howard’s music filled the brief silence between us. I wanted to crawl right through the phone back to Seattle. How was I going to survive without Addie?
“Why are you being so quiet? Is Gravedigger there?”
“I’m in my bedroom, but I get the feeling that sound travels in this house. I don’t know if he can hear me or not.”
“Great. So you can’t even speak freely. We’d better come up with a code word so I know if you’re okay. Say ‘bluebird’ if you’re being held hostage.”
“ ‘Bluebird’? Isn’t it supposed to be a word that doesn’t sound out of the ordinary?”
“Crap. Now I’m confused. You said the word, but I don’t know if you meant it. Are you or are you not being held hostage?”
“No, Addie. I’m not being held hostage.” I sighed. “Except maybe to the promise I made to my mom.”
“Yeah, but do promises really count if you make them under false pretenses? No offense, but your mom wasn’t exactly forthcoming about why she wanted you to go to Italy.”
“I know.” I breathed out. “I’m hoping there was some reason for that.”
“Maybe.”
I looked over my shoulder at the window. The moon was skimming the dark tree line, and if I hadn’t known any better I would have thought the view was crazy pretty. “I’d better go. I’m using his cell phone, and this is probably costing a fortune.”
“Okay. Call me again as soon as you can. And seriously, don’t worry. We’ll have you out of there in no time.”
“Thanks, Addie. Hopefully I can FaceTime you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting by my computer. How do they say good-bye in Italy? ‘Choo’? ‘Chow’?”
“I have no idea.”
“Liar. You’re the one who’s always talked about traveling the world.”
“Hello and good-bye is ‘ciao.’ ”
“I knew it. Ciao, Lina.”
“Ciao.”
Our call disconnected and I set the phone on the desk, my throat tight. I missed her already.
“Lina?”
Howard! I practically tipped over in my chair. Had he been eavesdropping?
I scrambled to my feet, then opened the door a couple of inches. Howard was standing in the hallway holding a bunch of folded white towels that had been stacked up like a wedding cake.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt you,” he said quickly. “I just remembered I meant to give you these.”
I studied his face, but it was as bland as whipped cream. Apparently being related meant nothing. I had no idea if he’d overheard my conversation with Addie.
I hesitated for a second, then opened the door wider and took the towels from him. “Thank you. And here’s your phone.” I grabbed it from the desk, then handed it to him.
“So . . . what do you think?”
I flushed. “About . . . ?”
“About your room.”
“Oh. It’s great. Really pretty.”
A big, relieved grin spread across his face. It was definitely the first genuine one of the night, and he looked about a hundred pounds lighter. Also, his smile was kind of lopsided.
“Good.” He leaned against the door frame. “I know I don’t have the best taste, but I wanted it to be nice. A friend helped me paint the desk and dresser, and Sonia and I found the mirror at a flea market.”
Ugh. Now I had the image of him traipsing around Italy looking for stuff he thought I’d like. Why the sudden interest? As far as I knew, he’d never even sent me a birthday card.
“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” I said.
“It wasn’t any trouble. Really.”
He smiled again, and there was a long uncomfortable pause. The whole night had felt like being on a blind date with someone I had nothing in common with. No, it was worse. Because we did have something in common. We just weren’t talking about it. When are we going to talk about it?
Hopefully never.
Howard bobbed his head. “Well, good night, Lina.”
“Good night.”
His footsteps faded down the hall and I shut and locked the door again. My nineteen hours of travel had worked its way to the center of my forehead, and I had an insane headache. Time for this day to be over.
I put the towels on my dresser, then kicked off my shoes and took a flying leap onto the bed, sending sprays of decorative pillows in every direction. Finally. The bed was as soft as it looked and the sheets smelled awesome, like when my mom had sometimes hung ours on the line to dry. I wriggled under the covers and switched off the lamp.
Loud laughter erupted from downstairs. The music was still at full blast, and either they were doing the dishes or p
laying a loud round of indoor croquet, but who cared? After the day I’d had, I could fall asleep anywhere.
I had just drifted into that murky half-sleep phase when Howard’s voice brought me back to consciousness.
“She’s really quiet.”
My eyes snapped open.
“I don’t think that’s surprising, considering the scenario,” Sonia answered.
I didn’t move a muscle. Apparently Howard didn’t think sound traveled through open windows.
He lowered his voice. “Of course. It was just kind of a surprise. Hadley was so . . .”
“Lively? She really was. But Lina might surprise you. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she turned out to have some of her mother’s oomph.”
He laughed quietly. “ ‘Oomph.’ That’s one way to put it.”
“Give her a little time.”
“Of course. Thanks again for dinner—it was delicious.”
“My pleasure. I’m planning on posting up at the visitors’ center tomorrow morning. Will you be in the office?”
“In and out. I’d like to be off early so I can take Lina into town.”
“Sounds good. Night, boss.” Sonia’s footsteps crunched down the gravel driveway and a moment later the front door opened and then closed again.
I forced my eyes shut, but it was like I had soda pop running through my veins. What had Howard expected? That I’d be overjoyed about moving in with someone I’d never met? That I’d be superexcited about living in a cemetery? It’s not like it was a big secret that I hadn’t wanted to come here. I’d agreed only when my grandma had pulled out the big guns: You promised your mom.
And why did he have to call me “quiet”? I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency—like just because I didn’t put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.
Tears flooded my eyes and I rolled over, pressing my face into my pillow. Now that it had been more than six months, I could sometimes go whole hours pretending to be okay without her. But it never lasted long. Turns out reality is as hard and unforgiving as that fire hydrant Addie and I had run into.
Love & Gelato Page 2
