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Five minutes later, she’s got me convinced. I swallow another bite of my caramel flavored donuts, before I speak. “I don’t even know where to start…”
“Let me help you,” Prue grins. “How the hell did you end up with a Donnelly?”
I narrow my eyes. “Youknowhim?”
She shrugs. “Who doesn’t? They’re like, famous in New York City. His entire family. Out of all the men in New York, you stumble across him.”
“Come on,” I tug her by the arm and we head for the park. “Let’s call the girls.”
It’s still early in Europe, but they both pick up. Yawning and a bit moody in Monika’s case, but present. And surprised, when they see me and Prue standing together over the video.
“Wait, you didn’t fly back home?” Monika asks.
“What’s his name?” Emma sits in a crisp suit at what looks like a desk with a beautiful city view.
“Is that your office?” I gape.
“No, it’s a virtual background. I’m working from home today. Now, what’s his name?”
Monika frowns. “How do you know this is about a man?”
“Oh, come on. Look at her eyes. They are twinkling.”
I look up at Prue, who nods her head, beaming. “All right,” I sigh. “So, I met this guy.”
“And not just anyone, but like the most eligible bachelor in town. Him and his brother.”
“Hang on, he’s got a brother?”
“Bring on the brother!”
Prue and I laugh. “Girls,” she warns teasingly. “Come on.”
I give them the decent version, happy to finally be able to share. The sun shines on our faces, and we giggle as we share each other’s news. I’m glad to change the subject and thank God no one is prying too much. It’s like they also feel that I’ve got no clue what I’m doing. And that’s all right. We stay like this for some time, before Emma needs to leave for work. Shortly after, Monika needs to go as well. We toss our paper bags into the bin and make our way to the museum.
“I’m in love with him, Prue,” I admit. She hums, but doesn’t comment. It isn’t until I see the glass building that hasPHOTO MUSEUMwritten on it, that she turns her gaze to mine.
“Just be careful. How does he feel about you?”
“He…” I don’t know what I can and can’t share, so I decide to go for a safe reply. “I met his family.” For Prue, with her Italian roots, family’s everything and her eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.
“Hisfamily? Already? When?”
“Last night. But that’s not what I meant to say. I mean, it’s really not that straight forward.”
“I know.” She pats my hand and I follow her stare to a white sedan that’s parked across the curb. “Shall we go inside?”
I give her a relieved grin. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
We walk across the shiny tiles to a counter where two grey-haired ladies with glasses are chatting over cups of coffee. Their faces beam when they see us and one of the ladies waves with a pamphlet. “Good afternoon ladies, how are you? The museum’s free of charge, but if you wish to become a sponsor, here are more details.”
I take the pamphlet and we both mumble our thanks, and I take a moment to appreciate the peaceful oasis around us. The roof’s open with plenty of floors above us where people are working. “That’s a public space for remote workers. There’s a small library and a cafe, so some people spend their entire day in this building.” I nod. Gosh, this place looks amazing. Big pots with lush plants frame the light walls. Soft jazz music fills the huge space, creating an intimate atmosphere. Icould work here every day. “And here is the exhibition area. Come on.”
I follow her toward the photographs. Mostly black and whites, but there are also some paintings. They date from the same era as back in “Al Pompiere”, mostly from the beginning of the twentieth century.
“It’s so recent if you think about it,” I muse. Prue hums.
“Yet the whole feeling is so old. Here.” She gestures to a photograph of a family of six, who all look into the camera with a mixture of pride and anxiety. “My great-grandparents. This one here is my grandpa. They were farmers.”
