by kc dyer
“I’ve been on to George Martini,” he says, pocketing the phone as I come out. “You remember George?”
When I shake my head, he shrugs. “Finance guy in my fraternity. Anyway, he’s got a place in Naples and has given us the use of it for the weekend. Gorgeous spot, at least according to the pictures he’s sent me.”
“That’s nice,” I say cautiously, steering him toward the gelato cart that’s still parked on the corner near the rental place. Even with all that’s happened, I’m so hungry I can hardly think straight, and the gelato cart is the closest food purveyor I can see at the moment. “We’ve got a hotel in Naples too, but I’m sure my dad can do without me, so we can have a chance to talk, at least.”
We pause to look at the selection, and I see that with the arrival of my new wallet-bearing companion, the cart man is back to wearing his big salesman smile. Anthony selects a delicate lemon sorbet in a cup, but I go full cone, with a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of dulce de leche.
It is, hands down, the best gelato I’ve ever tasted. It’s so good, I can completely ignore Anthony’s raised eyebrow at my selection. “That’s going to melt before you can eat it all,” he says drily.
I grab a huge handful of paper napkins and set out to prove him wrong.
And really, in the end, the gelato turns out to be the only reason things stay civil as long as they do. I’m so busy devouring the icy deliciousness that Anthony is able to go on for a full two minutes about someone named Minetta before I think to stop him.
I pause to wipe my mouth with yet another paper napkin. “Sorry—I’m not clear on the whole Minetta thing. I thought your assistant’s name was Melanie.”
He dabs at the corner of his mouth with his—lone—paper napkin and then sighs, impatiently. “Minette is not my assistant. She’s for your father. This is why I am here. I’ve hired her away from George to help out your dad when you’re gone.”
He tosses his cup and napkin into a bin as we walk by. “You haven’t been listening, Gia. She’s the best part of my surprise. She’s going to step in to look after him—make sure he takes his medicine, gets enough sleep, whatever. And after we have two mind-blowing days in Naples, you’ll come home with me.”
I pause before the last bite of my cone as this finally sinks in. “You—want me to come home with you? Like, back to New York? Now?”
He sighs, grabs one of the remaining paper napkins, and wipes something off my chin.
“Not right now,” he says patiently, as though explaining something to a child. “After that gorgeous round ass of yours and I have a naughty weekend in Naples. This is the surprise, Gia. I’ve looked after whatever your father needs by hiring a very capable woman. Her name is Minette. You won’t need to worry about a thing, and we can head home Sunday night. My mother has a meeting scheduled with her event planner for Monday afternoon, and she wants you there to finalize some of the details. We’re three months out, babe—this stuff should be set in stone already.”
He grins at the expression on my face. “Look, I know it’s a lot, but this is what you do when you love someone. And listen”—he leans in and puts his mouth beside my ear—“Minette is a total fox—the complete package, if you know what I mean. She’s one hundred percent your dad’s type, and when I say she’ll do whatever he needs, I mean it. That girl? Is a force. He’s not going to miss you at all, honey.”
I don’t even know where to begin unpacking all of this. Anthony bragging that he’s procured a hot babe to answer my dad’s every whim makes my mind want to turn off immediately. Instead, I start with something I can at least wrap some vocabulary around.
“Anthony,” I say, slowly. “I don’t want to leave right now. I have two more articles to write for NOSH, which I am contracted for. It’s work—an actual job. And my numbers have been really great—the readership is incredible. I might be able to jockey this into a full-time position when I get home.”
He snorts. “Why would you even try to be a journalist when the job market is so terrible these days? You have a full-time job when you get home. Just wait until you see the list my mother has ready for you. Not much sleep in your future, at least until July, is what I’m saying.”
“Until the wedding, you mean?” I ask. I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing.
He shrugs. “We can decide what you want to do after that. But, babe—it’s so gorgeous here. What do you say we change our honeymoon plans for Capri? I had no idea the place was so beautiful, and I’m sure George can find us fantastic accommodations.”
I wipe my fingers carefully on the remaining napkins and then toss them in the bin.
“My dad does not need an assistant. He needs me. For work stuff, he’s got Raj. But this trip has been different than we both expected. I found out I have a sister, Anthony. And my dad needs my moral support when . . .”
But that’s as far as I get.
He turns back to me, his eyebrows drawing together. “Gia. I’m here to take you home. I mean—look at this from my point of view. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to arrange all this, do you understand? Like—reaching out to George, sorting out the place—even organizing a capable—a VERY capable—assistant for your dad. And then I get here, and what happens? I go to all this trouble to surprise you, and not only do I find out your father’s got some kind of a lackey already here, but you’re messing around with him on the beach?”
I can feel my own temper start to burn. “Messing around? We were NOT messing around. He was helping me rescue my kayak, for crying out loud.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” he snaps. “You told me that your dad couldn’t do without you. But instead, when I show up, I find you fraternizing with some piece of shit on a beach? It’s not exactly like you’re looking after your ailing father, is it?”
I put my hand on his arm. “Just a minute. I have been looking after . . .”
He seizes my hand by the wrist and holds it up between us. “How can you,” he spits, “a woman wearing the fifty-thousand dollar ring I bought for her, betray me like this?”
“Betray you?” His anger, the fact that he would throw the cost of the ring at me, and the vastness of the sum itself combine to stun me into silence. I’m not sure if he takes this as a sign of my guilt, but without a word, he turns and strides off toward the water taxi dock.
Not knowing what else to do, I follow him.
I stand beside him silently, my mind reeling, as he goes up to the ticket counter, buys two tickets, and then steps into the shade of a palm tree. There’s a breeze blowing across the water, but it’s mid-afternoon, and the heat is intense. His face flushed, he removes his jacket, takes his tie off, and folds it neatly into his pocket.
“We only have ten minutes before the next water taxi,” he says, his voice sounding calmer. “We can go back to George’s place, and you can meet Minette. We’ll all feel better after we have a drink—George keeps an excellent bar.”
I narrow my eyes and look out over the bright blue water. The wind has picked up, and while it’s not terribly wavy, each peak is topped in white foam. I focus on keeping my tone even.
“I’m not going back to George’s place, wherever that is. I’m supposed to meet my dad here at four. I would never leave without telling him.”
“You can send him an e-mail, surely,” Anthony says. “Or call his hotel and leave a message.”
He uses the cuff of one sleeve to wipe a trickle of sweat away from his forehead.
“Anthony. You gave me no hint that you were coming—not even a note from your executive assistant, even though she’s been handling all my e-mails. You can’t expect me to drop everything with no notice.”
His face darkens again. “I said it was a surprise! I was trying to do something spontaneous, for god’s sake.”
“Okay—okay. I see that now. I see your intentions were good. But you need to know that you co
mpletely misread that whole thing with Raj on the beach—he works with my dad, full stop. Nothing—nothing—has happened between me and Raj . . .”
My voice trails off as I realize that this is not—strictly—true.
My mind spins. Could Anthony have somehow found out about what happened at the nightclub in Athens? Is that what this was all about?
I look up to see Anthony sneering at me. “Really? Because the first thing I saw, Gia, was the two of you half naked on the beach with your heads together. Him brushing the hair out of your eyes?”
“It was kelp . . .”
“I saw you,” he barks, and then when several people turn to look, he stops and takes a deep breath. After a minute, his voice is calmer, but his words emerge through gritted teeth.
“Whatever happened, I’ve made it clear, I’m prepared to forgive you. I should never have let it go this long—I should have come and collected you right away. Things happen in places like this, I know. I blame myself. If I hadn’t had the IPO to deal with, I would have done something about it earlier.”
My even tone deserts me. “Like what? Like you making my choices for me? That’s not my idea of how a relationship works, Anthony.”
The crowd of people filing off the water taxi are all staring at us now, but I don’t care. “You can’t pretend to be worried and to care about me when you really just want to make all the decisions.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s not true and it’s unfair. I’ve been missing you, Gia, and thought you were feeling the same way. I thought you wanted to be with me. I guess I was mistaken.”
He hands me the second water taxi ticket.
“I’m going to change my flight to leave tonight. If you want to come with me, you know where to find me.”
Still holding the little red ticket in my hand, I watch as he jumps on the water taxi just before it pulls away.
chapter thirty-eight
FINALLY SATURDAY EVENING
Pezzogna
Gia Kostas, special correspondent to NOSH, on the Italian Isle of Capri
If you consider salad only as a starter, there is no better follow-up than this dish, local both in ingredients and preparation to the island of Capri. Begin with fresh-caught red sea bream . . .
It’s a good parting line, I have to admit, but it isn’t at all true. As the water taxi shoots off toward the mainland, I realize I actually have no idea where to find Anthony at the airport—not what airline he’s flying on, nor his flight time. And after everything that’s happened, do I really want to find him, anyway?
My mind is churning as I make my way slowly off the dock, and I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t see Raj coming until I practically bump into him. Unlike me, he has clearly taken the time to shower, and as he walks up, he smells of shampoo and sea air. However, the shower has done nothing to wash away the dark ring forming under his left eye, and I see his hand go to it unconsciously.
His expression lightens when he sees me.
“Gia, I was certain you would have gone. Are you—okay?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m not really sure at the moment, to tell you the truth.”
“Mm.” He shifts the bag he is carrying to his shoulder.
“Is that the equipment you needed?” I switch to the safer ground of work talk.
“From Brother Wilde,” he says. “It’s a camera that can give me a better look at the site near Circe’s cave. Your dad seems pretty convinced we’ll find something there.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. “I think this has been an amazing journey. Even if his theory doesn’t pan out, I’ve learned so much from working with him.”
I give a bitter laugh. “So you do think it’s a wild goose chase.”
“Hey—that’s the opposite of what I just said.”
Since my sunglasses are somewhere at the bottom of Naples Bay, I have to shade my eyes against the sun to see his face. I suddenly decide to take the plunge.
“How do you know Anthony? It’s obvious you have some kind of history.”
Raj’s face closes down. “He didn’t tell you?” And then, as if to himself, “Well, of course he didn’t.”
“No. He didn’t tell me. But neither did you. I meant to e-mail him after you mentioned knowing an Anthony Hearst at dinner that night, but then—the mushrooms happened.”
He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “It was nothing. Years ago. You must know he attended Oxford for a while?”
I have to stop to think about this. “I guess he mentioned he was in England for a semester as an undergrad. Is that where you met?”
Raj nods. “Right. We had a few classes in common. I hardly knew him at all.”
“I think I remember him telling stories about wild parties in all the pubs and how tough the exams were.”
“I don’t know anything about the pubs,” he says, shrugging. “We didn’t exactly frequent the same places. We shared a tutor, and he was quite terrible to a girl we both knew. There wasn’t much more to it. We just—didn’t get on.”
“There’s got to be more than . . .”
“Darling! Here you are, right on time!”
As my dad strides onto the dock looking sunburned and cheerful, Raj turns away. My dad claps him on the back by way of greeting. And then, after dropping a kiss on my cheek, he turns and waves to a figure standing across the street from the marina dock.
Squinting against the setting sun, I see a man wearing a brown robe, his long white hair blowing in the wind. He waves back at my dad enthusiastically.
I look over at Raj. “Is that your monk?”
Raj lifts one shoulder. “Brother Wilde is more of an eccentric academic, I’d say. He’s considered one of the preeminent Homerian scholars.”
“An absolute inspiration,” my dad says heartily. “We spent a very informative afternoon going through his herb garden.”
I glance back to see the man hurrying off in the direction of the funicular. He’s tiny—little more than five feet tall—and when he turns, the setting sun reflects off a bald spot on the top of his head.
“Takes his cosplay seriously, then?”
But before either of them can answer, my father catches sight of Raj’s eye. “My dear boy—what happened? Did your surfboard do you wrong?”
“Something like that,” Raj says and pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. “But I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Shall we go?”
He turns and leads the way toward the water taxi.
My father, following behind, pauses to fish around in his wallet to retrieve the return tickets for the ride. He looks surprised to see the red ticket I’m still holding in my hand.
“You needn’t have bought a separate fare back,” he says, waving the stubs at me.
“I—I didn’t.” I take his arm as we join the queue. “But Pops—I could really use some advice.”
* * *
—
Raj remains on the deck for the fifteen-minute ride back to Naples, but I locate a private corner to share with my dad inside the cabin. As soon as we sit down together, I find myself telling him the whole story, apart from the fight between Raj and Anthony, since I don’t even understand what happened there myself. But I go through all the rest—Anthony’s surprise arrival, the argument, his expectation that I return with him, and my ambivalence about all of it.
He listens to me quietly as the city shoreline gradually grows nearer through the boat’s windows. We are slowing down to enter the Naples marina by the time he speaks.
“It sounds like you need to take some time to talk things through with this man of yours,” he says, at last. “You can’t fault his spontaneity, when you essentially did the same thing to join me on this trip, yes? And even if he did jump to a few conclusions, Anthony has come all this way intending to make things better betwee
n you.” He gets to his feet a little shakily as the boat pulls up to the landing.
“I’m not sure I want things to be better.” But as I follow him onto the deck, I’m almost positive he hasn’t heard me. When Raj joins us to step off the boat, I don’t repeat myself.
In any case, my dad is right. Anthony and I do need to talk. Maybe we can’t fix things, but I also don’t want our relationship to end on this terrible, sour note.
As we join yet another queue, this time to catch a cab to the bed-and-breakfast Teresa Cipher has arranged for us in Naples, Raj reaches out a hand to my dad.
“I’m off, then,” he says.
I stare at him, puzzled. “You’re off? Off where? Aren’t you coming with us to Ithaca?”
He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve only got time for a quick trip to San Felice, and then I have to head back to London to dredge up some funding for my postdoc.”
He pauses a minute, then reaches a hand out to me. “It’s been really lovely meeting you, Gianna. Good luck with your—uh—upcoming nuptials.”
“Oh—ah, right.” I’m stammering again, and I feel like a total idiot.
I want to shout at Raj that there will not be any upcoming nuptials. That all along, I’ve known I don’t want to get back together with Anthony. That I’d rather spend my time getting to know him—Raj—better.
But of course I don’t say any of this. Instead, I clear my throat.
“Thank you. Good luck to you too, with your funding.”
And then he’s gone. My father and I get into the next cab, after which we drive through the perfectly nice city of Naples to our perfectly nice guesthouse.
I’m quite sure I’ve never felt so miserable in my whole life.
chapter thirty-nine
LONGEST SATURDAY, EVER
Soppa Tal-Armla
Gia Kostas, special correspondent to NOSH, in Naples, Italy
