The Bride of Montefalco. Rebecca Winters
tea.
“Can I go with you to take it to her?”
“Of course.”
“What’s her name?”
“Signora Parker.”
“Does she speak Italian?”
“No.” Not according to the taxi driver. “It will give you a chance to practice your excellent English with her.”
“Is she a farmer, too?”
Gino was equally curious about the wife of Donata’s lover. “Why don’t you ask her later?” It would be interesting to hear her answer.
They went up the stairs. He tapped on the door. “Signora?”
“I’ll peek,” Sofia offered and opened the door a crack. After tiptoeing inside, she came back out again.
“She’s sound asleep.”
Gino wasn’t surprised. “We’ll fix her another plate later.”
Once back in the kitchen, they worked together to clean things up while he devoured the meal meant for the intriguing woman sleeping beneath his roof.
“She has pretty hair. It looks like the color of fairy wings.”
That was as good a description of gossamer as you could get. He eyed his brunette niece he loved.
“Not many people we know have hair that particular shade do they?”
“I don’t know any,” she declared.
Neither did Gino.
“What do you say we call Anna’s mother and see if your friend can stay over with us for a few days.”
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