Page 24 of The Unraveling of Julia

“Like you.” Anna Mattia met her eye, significantly. “I ’ave ’er pitch’.”

“Herpicture?” Julia asked, surprised. “You have it? Not burned?”

“No, I keep.”

Thank God.“When did you take it?”

Anna Mattia’s face fell into deep folds. “She ask, when she know she die.”

Aw.“Did you take the picture on her crypt?”

“Yes.” Anna Mattia straightened, smoothing down her housedress. “Please wash ’ands, go sit. I serve.”

“That’s okay, I can help.” Julia crossed to the sink.

“Ido, thank you.” Anna Mattia picked up the tureen and headed into the dining room, and Julia decided to accept that Anna Mattia was more comfortable serving her, a good problem to have. She washed her hands, then left the kitchen.

“Are there any other pictures of her?”

“Yes, I ’ave. Piero get.” Anna Mattia poured water into one glass and Chianti into the other. “Please, sit.”

“Thanks.” Julia sat, enjoying the vaguely maternal vibe while Anna Mattia lifted the tureen lid and ladled some soup into the bowl, beaming.

“Perfetto.”

Julia had to agree. “It looks delicious. I’d love to learn to cook these dishes.”

“Okay, I teach.” Anna Mattia nodded. “Now, you see my pitch’?”

“Yes, please.”

“Buon appetito.”

After dinner, Julia sat alone in the dining room. The tomato soup had been amazingly flavorful, with the perfect touch of garlic and onion, making a full meal with the fresh Tuscan bread. She’d drunktwo glasses of Chianti, which she was coming to adore. Dessert was homemade almond cookies, buttery and light, then Anna Mattia had cleared the table, done the dishes, and gone back to her house.

Julia poured another glass of Chianti, sipped some, and eyed the three photographs in front of her, which she’d arranged from the earliest to the most recent. The first photo showed Rossi with her arm around Anna Mattia in an adorably girlfriendy pose. Both women had happy grins and carefree expressions, looking directly into the camera. Rossi was wearing a yellow cotton shift that showed shapely legs in T-strap sandals. She was a head taller than Anna Mattia, which made her about Julia’s height. Her build was thinner, however, and lankier.

The second photo showed Rossi frowning as she stood in the vineyard. She shielded her eyes against the sun and was alone except for a big white Maremmano, not Bianco. Her face had lengthened, and a fixed frown deepened the draping around her mouth. She was thinner and looked sloppy in a stained white T-shirt and jeans.

The third photo was downright disturbing, a close-up in which Rossi was shooing the camera away, her hand blurred. Her hair was messy, and her eyes flashed with rage, an extreme reaction to having her picture taken. She had on a white dress that looked worn and stained. Her arms and legs were like sticks. Her feet were bare.

Julia scanned the photos like an age progression from the earliest to most recent, watching Rossi descend into madness. She took pictures of the photos, then enlarged the most recent one, zeroing in on Rossi’s eyes. They glittered a sharp, piercing blue, clearly unhinged, and Julia wondered if she was looking at her own future.

She felt horrified, confused, and exhausted. She checked her phone, surprised it was only 8:15 p.m. She couldn’t remember when she’d slept the whole night.

It was time for bed.

Julia hesitated at the threshold of Rossi’s bedroom. It was dark inside, and she felt the wall for a light switch, but there weren’t any. She made her way to the bedside table and turned on a lamp with an enameled base of spiky green leaves. It had a low-wattage bulb that left in shadow the corners of the large room. She looked around for another lamp, but found none.

The windows were open, and the bedroom was cold. Outside was the chirping of crickets and a weird screeching. She went to the window and looked out, but it was too dark to see anything. Clouds obscured the moon, and the vineyard was a black blur. There were no lights or even a demarcation where trees met sky. Bianco wasn’t in sight. She felt as if she were looking into a bottomless black bowl.

The air was still damp from the storm, and she tried to close the window, but it was stuck. She tried another window, but that was stuck, too. The screeching stopped, then started again.

She closed the curtains, then went to the other windows and closed their curtains. She went to the window by the bed, which overlooked Anna Mattia and Piero’s carriage house. It was dark, with no lights on inside.

Julia crossed to the door and looked for a way to lock it, but there was none, only a keyhole. Anna Mattia had told her Rossi didn’t lock her interior doors, which she resolved to fix as soon as possible. Julia closed her door, then told herself she was being ridiculous. She was safe here.

She went to her suitcase on the reclining couch and rummaged for something to sleep in. She undressed quickly, slipped into an oversized Eagles T-shirt, and used the bathroom, which had white tile, a porcelain pedestal sink, and a large terra-cotta tub. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her face, then padded out.

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