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“What about Dad?” she said tentatively.
“What about Dad?” His tone was defensive.
“I mean, shouldn’t we ask him? He might say no.”
Tom inhaled. “We have to convince him. It’s for his own good.”
She felt the tears come but she brushed them away and tried to find her voice. “Right,” she said in a whisper.
“We’ll tell him tonight,” he said. “I’ll come over there after I shut up the store. I’ll bring pizza.”
She nodded into the phone, unable to say a word. Tom ended the call, and she put it back on the table and stared out of the fan window. Below her, she could see leaves drifting and swirling in the light breeze, stirring them from the ground and bringing others loosened from branches to mingle with them in the lazy heat of the afternoon sun. She usually loved this time so much, but at the moment its beauty seemed out of place, a slap in the face to her current tumultuous emotions.
A beep sounded on her phone, signaling a text. She picked it up and saw it was from Giancarlo.Please phone me, my darling,it read in Italian.
It took her a moment to translate it, her skills out practice even after the few weeks she’d been here. She swiped the message aside and before she realized it she’d pressed the call button for Giancarlo. It connected almost immediately.
“Katerina,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “You are well? Nothing has happened? Is your father well? I got so worried when you didn’t answer my calls.”
Fortunately, the fountain of words was spoken in English so she could grasp immediately the concern that his voice had only emphasized.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice choking on the words. She paused to gather herself. “It’s just been…a morning. Or afternoon. Busy?”
“What is it,tesoro? You sound upset.”
“I-I’m okay,” she said. She struggled to get herself under control, breathing slowly in and out. “I, I mean, Tom and I have been talking about my father, that’s all.”
“What about him? Have things become worse? My poor darling. Tell me what I can do.”
“No, no. It’s fine. Tom wants to move my father’s bed downstairs, that’s all.”
“I see. Well if it makes it easier on him, then it’s probably for the best. What do the doctors say?”
“The doctors? I don’t know. I haven’t talked to them. Maybe Tom has.”
“Talk to them. They should know best.”
She wanted to tell him that they didn’t know best. That it was for her, Tom, and her dad to decide. Her dad most of all. “Thanks,” she said in the end.
He talked on, catching her up on the news of his social circle in Rome, the new exhibitions coming to various galleries, and an upcoming auction he was dealing with. He also mentioned his mother and her wish that her regards be sent to Kate. And Kate listened to all of this with a growing dispassion, though his voice was calming, reassuring and despite the fact that she didn’t care about any of the events and updates he shared, she felt to some degree soothed by his voice.
“We will talk soon,” he said. “Tomorrow,tesoro. I will phone you then. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said feebly.
He ended the call with several endearments and a final “I love you,” in Italian. She repeated it after him, conscious of the still bare left-hand finger.
Seventeen
Kate stood on the back porch, the moonlight revealing the big piles of leaves she’d created earlier. It seemed impossible that so many leaves had fallen since Tom had raked. She hadn’t managed to pick them up and put them in the trash bags. It had been late afternoon before she’d begun the task, putting it off until she knew it would be a case of rushing around with the rake, gathering up the leaves in piles that Max couldn’t resist scattering, so that it took twice as long. Even though the air had been cool, even with only Tom’s NYU sweatshirt on, she’d been sweating hard at the end. The fall weather was starting to settle in with greater confidence now. She knew Tom would ridicule her halfhearted raking efforts, and she would probably have to start from scratch tomorrow, if the promised breezes picked up in the early morning.
Just as she was about to return to the kitchen, she felt her phone ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw Ethan’s name appear. Surprised and a little curious, she answered the phone, a small bit of tension in her stomach. “Hello?”
“Kate, good. I’ve caught you. Can you come over now? There’s something I have to show you.”
“What? What do you mean? What do you have to show me?” Her mind couldn’t even remotely conjure up anything that he might want to show her.
“It’s nothing bad,” he said. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
