1
It was magic hour in Tuscany, a place more magical than most, and Julia was in the kitchen chopping a sprig of fresh basil, which released the herb’s piquant scent. She was preparing her family’s favorite appetizer, bruschetta with roasted red peppers in garlicky olive oil, and eggplant rollatini baked in the oven, warming the air with the aroma of bubbling mozzarella.
A breeze wafted through the window, which offered a beautiful view of their vineyard. A late-day sun poured like honey over its hilly rows of grapevines, glazing the vista in luminous gold. Julia had inherited the property in ruins, but she and her husband, Gianluca, had renovated the villa and planted their first crop of Sangiovese grapes, which they hoped to sell for Chianti Classico, authentic only if it came from this region.
She heard her daughter, Leni, giggling outside, which meant that everyone would be coming up to the patio soon. Her in-laws and her birth mother, Fiamma, were here, and they were having dinner outside on the patio tonight, since the evening was oddly temperate. Thelocals called March weatherpazzarello, meaning weird or crazy, but Julia didn’t agree. She loved living here except that she missed her best friend, Courtney, back in the States.
On impulse, Julia pressed Courtney’s number on FaceTime, propped the phone on a pepper grinder, and resumed chopping the basil. It was just after six o’clock in the evening, so it would be around lunchtime in Philly. Julia knew Courtney would be at work, but noonish was usually a good time for her to talk.
The call connected after a single ring, and Courtney popped onto the screen with a grin, her round green eyes striking against her dark skin. Her pretty face was shaped like a perfect heart, her nose was smallish, and her black hair was in a ponytail. She had on an oversize gray sweater, unusually casual for her job.
Julia perked up. “Girl, I miss you!”
“Jules, me, too! It’s been a minute!”
“Have time to catch up?”
“Totally, I ditched work today.”
“What? Sales Queen slacks off? Why?”
“Grandma Kay asked me to come visit, and I just got to her farm.”
“Aw, tell her I said hi.” Julia had met Courtney’s grandmother Kay Patterson many times, and she was like a second mother to Courtney, still active in her early eighties.
“Look at this place. Cute, huh?” Courtney flipped her phone around to show a charming Victorian farmhouse of white clapboard with a wide porch, green gingerbread trim, and a mansard roof. Verdant arborvitae grew in a semi-circle around the house, providing a natural shelter from the wind off a surrounding field, and the sight made Julia homesick.
“Ah, Pennsylvania.”
“Right? It’s Tuscany, only with bowling leagues.”
Julia chuckled. “Where’s Paul?”
“At a conference in Myrtle, which means he’s on the eighth hole.” Courtney started walking with the phone, and the screen jostled. “How’s Gianluca? Studly as ever?”
Julia smiled. “Great.”
“And the adorable Leni?”
“Yakking up a storm.”
“At three? She’s a genius.”
“No, she’s Italian,” Julia shot back, but suddenly her mouth went dry. Her heart began to pound. She felt stricken, almost woozy. She shuddered, breaking out in a sweat. She set down the knife, overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of dread.
Julia remembered this happened before, only once. She flashed on that awful night back in Philly. She’d been walking home with her husband when she’d had a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. Then it had, before her horrified eyes. Her husband had been stabbed to death in front of her. She shuddered with the memory, like aftershocks.
Meanwhile, Courtney was smiling as she crossed the lawn. “You know, my grandmother cuts this whole big lawn herself with a push mower. Is she crunchy or what?”
Julia only half-listened, second-guessing herself. Maybe she was imagining the premonition. She hadn’t had one in five years. Everything was in order in the kitchen, and she looked around her, taking in the white marble countertop with jagged gold veins. The unvarnished pine cabinets. The deep porcelain farmer’s sink salvaged from the old kitchen.
“Damn,” Courtney was saying, climbing the steps to her grandmother’s front door. “These stairs need to be fixed.”
Julia realized with horrifying certainty that something terrible was about to happen—but not to her, toCourtney. “Courtney, stop!” she blurted out, picking up the phone. “Don’t go in!”
“What, why?” Courtney entered her grandmother’s house, flipping the FaceTime screen around so Julia could see what was happening. “Here, say hi to Grandma—”
Suddenly Courtney screamed. Julia gasped. The phone screen showed a gruesome sight:
