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As the cityscape of Rome came into view, he felt a sense of homecoming at the sight of the terracotta roofs, the majestic monuments, and the meandering Tiber River, all of which evoked memories of days spent exploring the cobblestone streets and busy markets, mingling with the ever-present crush of tourists, and the local street performers.He could almost smell the roasted garlic from the restaurants and feel the sun on his head.
He'd only spent summers in Rome growing up, but it had always felt like the closest place to home, and that was because of his grandparents.His parents had dragged him all over the world, and when they weren't touring, they were living in New York City, San Francisco or LA, but none of those places had ever felt like where he wanted to be.They certainly hadn't been as warm or as comforting or as welcoming as his grandmother's house in Rome.
His grandparents had always made time for him, and his summers in Italy had been the highlights of his childhood, his grandmother cooking for him, his grandfather regaling him with exciting stories from his job as a police officer.It was Marcus Caruso who had made him want to do something in the world that would make a difference.It had taken him a while to get to that job, but he was there now, and that was because of his grandfather.
He hadn't been to Rome since his grandfather's funeral last year.He should have come back before now to check on his grandmother, but he'd kept putting it off, telling himself he'd find some time after the next job, but he'd never taken that time, and he was glad now that Flynn had insisted he take a break.Even if Flynn hadn't given him the green light, he would have jumped on the plane, because Anna Caruso was the one person in his life who had never let him down, and now he needed to be there for her.
After the plane landed, he turned on his phone, relieved not to see panicked messages from his grandmother.He texted her he would be at the house within an hour.She replied immediately that she couldn't wait to see him, which brought forth a sense of relief that she was all right.
He hadn't checked any luggage, so he made a quick exit from the plane, grabbed a taxi in front of the airport, and made his way to Trastevere, the neighborhood where his grandmother lived.
It was almost five by the time the cab turned down her block, and the setting sun cast a warm glow over the cobblestone street.When he stepped out of the taxi, he caught the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery at the end of the block.His stomach rumbled in appreciation and memory of the savory and sweet pastries that he'd feasted on so many mornings in his youth.He would have to go tomorrow, or, hopefully, his grandmother would have some pastries sitting on her kitchen table.
He grabbed his overnight bag after paying the driver, and then looked up and down the street.The homes surrounding his grandmother's house were three-story buildings, several of which had been converted from single-family homes to multi-family units.That had been the case with his grandmother's friend, Gloria Rossi.
After her husband had died eight years earlier, she'd sold the home to a developer who had turned it into four apartments.The top apartment was where Gloria had lived until several months ago when she had moved in with his grandmother after his grandfather had died.
As he walked up to the building, he could see signs of age, the faded façade, adorned with ivy that was out of control, the chipping paint on the ornate iron balcony railings, and several long cracks in the plaster.Maybe it was time to talk to his grandmother about what she might do with the building.Even with Gloria living there, it was probably too big and too expensive.
But whenever he'd brought up the idea of selling it to a developer and doing what Gloria had done with her palazzo, his grandmother had turned him down, insisting that she would never sell the family home.She would keep it until she died, and then it would go to his father and eventually to him.
He doubted he would ever become the owner.His father had little interest in the property unless it was what profit it might bring in.He'd sell it in a heartbeat.And that was probably fine.He couldn't imagine himself living here, either.His life was in the States.
The large front door swung open with a loud creak, and Anna Caruso appeared, relief etched in every line of her face.Her hair was white, her olive skin still tan from her love of sitting in the sunshine, but there were more lines around her eyes and mouth now.She looked tired, but even with everything going on, she was still stylishly dressed in a pair of black slacks and a light-blue sweater to match her eyes.
"Oh, Nick," she said as she rushed down the steps to give him a hug."It is so good to see you."
She'd always given him the best love-filled hugs, and today was no exception.In fact, he felt like she lingered even longer, as if she needed the support of their embrace.Finally, she stepped back and said what she always said every time he arrived after a long absence."You look too skinny,Amore mio."
He smiled."I'm hoping you have some pastries from Dalinda's."
"I always do."Her expression changed as a car came down the street.
He turned his head to see the vehicle stop in front of a house two buildings away from them.
"Oh, it's just Lorenzo," she said, relief in her voice, as she gave a wave to the man who exited his car.
"Who's Lorenzo?"
"My neighbor's father.He's a delightful man."She paused again as another car came down the street.This one was moving slowly, and as her uneasiness increased, so did his.
"Let's go inside."He urged her into the house, keeping his body between her and the street as they went through the front door.As he closed the door, he saw the car disappear down the street.It was probably no one, but clearly his grandmother was still on edge, and so was he.Until he knew more about what was going on, he would not let down his guard.
The entry showed similar signs of age on the weathered wood floors.And the old chandelier hanging over the round glass table in the middle of the foyer was missing several shards of glass.But the tapestries on the walls were still bright and colorful, warming up the room.
"Nick," his grandmother said, drawing his attention back to her."There's something I should tell you."
He didn't like the nervous tone in her voice."What's that?Has something else happened?"
"Not exactly."
Before she could say another word, two women walked out of the adjacent living room.He recognized Gloria immediately with her silver hair and friendly smile.He smiled back and then saw the younger woman standing behind her.
The irritatingly smart brown eyes and the dark-brown hair that fell in waves around a beautiful face belonged to Gloria's granddaughter, Isabella Rossi, possibly the sexiest and most annoying woman he'd ever met.
Unlike her grandmother, who wore a conservative knit dress, Isabella was in black jeans with high-heeled boots and a dark-red sweater that clung to her curves.She was as pretty as a picture.If only her personality were as sweet.
He'd heard about her for years but had only met her in person for the first time three months ago, when his grandmother and Gloria had insisted that the two of them meet since Isabella had just moved to Los Angeles.
