Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Sure,” I say, crouching down to pet Diva and fit her leash. “Where does she live?”
“In the house at the end of the street—the one with the red shutters. You can’t miss it.”
I straighten. “Would you like me to get you anything from the shop while I’m there?”
She scratches her head. “Tomatoes. Half a dozen. They’re high in Vitamin C.”
“Oh, talking about vitamins, did you remember to take yours?”
She clicks her tongue. “That old hag, Mrs. Campana, put you up to asking, didn’t she?”
“She’s just looking out for your health,” I reply with a smile.
She lifts her chin. “Well, if you see her, you can tell her I took my vitamins, thank you very much.”
I wave as I lead Diva outside. “See you later.”
“Wait.” She hurries down the hallway and returns with a ten-euro bill. “For the tomatoes. Don’t get the round ones. Get the elongated ones. They last longer. Oh, and I forgot to ask your number so that I can call you if Diva is sick or not up for her walk. You never know.”
My neck heats under my scarf. “Um, I don’t have a phone.” When she gives me a baffled look, I add quickly, “Not yet.”
“Don’t worry about it then.” She pats my shoulder. “We’ll just play it by ear.”
Before she can ask more questions, I leave with Diva. We pass a few people on the pavement whom I greet. They return the greeting politely and turn their heads to stare after me.
At the end of the street, I knock on the door of the house with the red shutters. An elderly lady with raven-black hair knotted in a bun on her head opens the door. She’s leaning on a walking frame.
Taking one look at Diva, she says, “You must be the dog walker Antionette mentioned.”
“Sabella,” I say, shaking her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Mrs. Filippi, but you can call me Corinne.”
“Mrs. Paoli said you’d like me to pick up groceries for you?”
She points at a caddy in the entrance. “The list and the money are inside. And don’t take the overripe bananas. Make sure they’re green. Mr. Luciani always tries to get rid of his brown bananas. He’ll slip them into the bag if you don’t pay attention.”
“I’ll do that,” I say, taking the caddy. “See you later.”
“If Mr. Luciani asks, tell him I’m doing great,” she calls after me. “Just a little pain. Nothing serious.”
Diva pulls on the leash, eager to continue her walk. We stop at the pharmacy to say hello to Mrs. Campana, who says the cake tasted better than it looked. Unfortunately, her husband ate most of it, and now his cholesterol is sky-high again. I apologize for her husband’s cholesterol and continue on my way when a customer comes in.
Our next stop is the greengrocer on the square. The man gives me a strange look, but he takes Corinne’s list and helps me to gather the items from the shelves. When he takes a bunch of brown bananas from a crate, I say, “Corinne prefers the green ones.”
He scoffs. “I bet she told you I always try to get rid of the brown ones.”
Diva barks as if agreeing.
When he’s packed everything into the caddy, including Mrs. Paoli’s tomatoes, I pay and leave with a quick greeting. It’s getting late. I better get home before Heidi or my husband decides to visit.
Corinne pays me for the service and asks if I can do another grocery run next week. We agree on the same day around the same time. Diva’s tongue is dragging on the ground from the long walk. After returning her home, I rush back up the mountain.
As the house comes into view, my spirits sink. Fabien is leaning on a snazzy sports car parked in the road.
“Sabella,” he says, straightening when I approach.
Shit. How do I explain my absence?
“Oh, hi,” I say, out of breath from the speed-walking. “I hope you haven’t waited too long.”
“A while.” He frowns. “Where have you been?”
“Just out for a walk, getting some fresh air.”
His brow smooths out as a look of understanding comes over his features. “Suffering from cabin fever already, my poor darling?”
“Something like that.” Changing the subject quickly, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“Not happy to see me?” he teases.
“Of course I am. I just didn’t expect to see you so soon again.”
“Angelo sent me to deliver a dress.” He wags his eyebrows. “Apparently someone needs to look gorgeous this weekend.” He opens the back door of the car. A clothes bag lies flat over the seats. Taking it out, he says, “I did my best to transport the gown without getting a crease in the skirt.”
“Oh.” I reach for the bag. “Thank you.”
He holds the bag in the air. “Hands off, darling. This isn’t a common knock and drop delivery. I have to make sure it fits properly. Adjustments may be necessary.” He continues with a wink. “Plus, I left an excellent bottle of red in the wine fridge. We may as well pull the cork.”