“Did you decide, then?” Giada asked, her face softening. “Am I looking at a mayor running for his second term?”
“Can we talk about this another time?” He stood up. “Go find your lease and call me, OK? I’ve got to take her to the bank later this afternoon, but I’ll be around.”
“She’s going to meet Romina?” Giada let out a puff of air. “Good luck with that.”
As Lora approached the Banco Popolare di Liguria, a man on a bicycle passed her and waived at Andrea, who stood waiting for her on the stone steps with a folder in his hand. He waved back, then caught sight of her and grinned. The zing in her chest reminded her that she hadn’t seen him since they refiled her documents for citizenship yesterday—after they attacked each other in the garden. Since Franca had been present and presiding during the whole procedure, they managed only a tight goodbye before he’d turned back into his office and moved on to his next activity. It was then that she realized that they’d never exchanged phone numbers. They’d nevercalled each other, never texted, never found each other’s profiles on social media to follow or stalk or scroll through, trying to avoid accidentally hitting “like.” If she needed him, she walked down the steps from her hotel, and he was usually there. Though “needed him” might be a bit of an exaggeration. Had to speak to him? Wanted to see him? Need was another thing altogether. For example, right now, shedidneed him to help her convince an Italian bank that she had enough funds and income in the US to cover the rent in his house for as many months as necessary without turning into a squatter.
“The only thing I want to tell you is this: Do not be intimidated by Romina,” Andrea said, double-kissing her hello.
“And who is Romina?”
“She’s the bank manager and a well-knownrompiscatole. If she makes faces or seems like she is doing everything possible to make this difficult, don’t panic. We will get this done one way or another. Make sure you have your paperwork in order. That way, we’ll be able to answer questions quickly.”
“OK. I have everything on my laptop here.” She patted the side of her tote bag. “Gosh, you make it sound like we are going into battle.”
“Because we are,” he said, arching a brow. “Just follow my lead.”
He’d told her to not be intimidated by Romina, but he’d said nothing about the security door leading into the bank. Only one person at a time was allowed to step into what looked like a giant glass tube before they were sealed off inside the tiny compartment. It was meant to contain a criminal fully if they tried to leave the bank in a hurry, but had theeffect of making everyone feel like they were suffocating inside a human-sized syringe for an excruciating five seconds. Exactly at the moment she thought she might start hyperventilating, the tube curved open to the interior of the bank and she stepped inside. It was dark with mahogany walls and stone floors. A gigantic oil painting depicting an anguished-looking Triton rising out of the sea on a chariot pulled by roiling seahorses dominated the top half of the two-story room, and everything was lit with a giant, three-tier brass chandelier. Andrea walked in behind her and went right over to speak to a young man sitting at a kiosk. He nodded and walked down a hall to their left.
“Are all banks this imposing in Italy?” she whispered. “I don’t know whether to make a deposit or confess my sins.”
“That’s the point,” he whispered back.
“Sindaco.” The man reappeared, beckoning them down the hall. “Seguitemi.”
They stepped into Romina’s office, another dark space with a giant desk, brass lamp, and forest-green leather chairs. The art in her office was only slightly more cheerful: a forlorn sailboat in the middle of a bay, a cluster of gruesome clouds gathering on the horizon behind it.
“Sindaco.” She stood and nodded, shaking Andrea’s hand. He introduced her to Lora, and although she hid it well, she seemed surprised to see another person at the meeting. “Allora, ditemi. Come posso esservi di aiuto?”
“She’s asking how she can help us. I’m going to explain everything, OK?”
Lora nodded, and he launched into rapid speech, most of which Lora could not understand. However, she was proudof her ability to pick out a few easy words like “affitto” for “rent,” “banca” for “bank,” “conto” for “account,” and, of course, “cittadinanza” for “citizenship.” Romina listened, her fingers intertwined on her desk, a polite expression on her face. She looked like a very elegant cobra in a Fendi blouse.
“Come si chiama lei?” she asked Andrea.
“Loretta Giordano. É la figlia di Ivo,” he replied.
“Ivo?” Romina’s eyes widened and her gaze snapped to Lora.
“Sì, Ivo,” Andrea said. Lora nodded along.
“Perdonatemi,” she said, the color draining from her face. She stood, motioning for them to stay seated, and walked out of the room.
“What’s going on?” whispered Lora after a pause.
“I have no idea,” he whispered back. “She asked me your name and I told her. She didn’t know you were Ivo’s daughter, of course.”
“Is this normal?” she hissed.
“The last time I was here, she put a block on my savings account because I still owed fifty-five cents interest from when I was ten. Anything could be normal,” he hissed back.
“Signora Giordano,” she said, returning to the office. She placed a thick leather ledger on her desk and sat slowly. She turned to Andrea and spoke several sentences that finished with the word “passaporto.”
“She said that due to the sensitive nature of the financial details, she would like to be sure that you are Ivo’s kid. If you can show her your passport—” Andrea explained.
“Absolutely,” said Lora, digging into her bag. She handed the passport to Romina, showed her the back page thatindicated that she was also known as Loretta Elaine Giordano, then turned back to Andrea. “What is going on?” He shrugged.
“Grazie,” said Romina. She took a deep breath, opened the ledger, and placed both palms on top of it before beginning to explain. Lora gave up trying to understand a few words and, instead, tried to read gestures. The conversation went on and on, Romina using her hands to wave to some unknown location every time she said the word “là.” Lora knew that word meant “over there”; she just didn’t know overwhere. Andrea only responded “Aha,” “OK,” and “Mmm,” which didn’t leave her much to go on. Finally Romina finished, opened her palm toward Lora, and said, “Spiegaglielo.”
