Page 31 of Suddenly Single
“It’s still a little muddy,” she pointed out.
“There is not so much of the mud. Come, sit,” he said, and gestured to the bench.
She eyed him skeptically.
“I am Lorenzo,” he said. “We’ve met.”
“Very briefly.”
“Si,but I will not bite,” he said breezily.“Not unless you ask me to.” He winked and patted the seat next to him.
He seemed fairly harmless as far as Italian males went. Plus, he’d just called herbella, and Jenny was not immune to the power of a compliment.So she sat, but kept a good distance between them.
“So?” he said, opening his arms.“You are an American who speaks Italian,” he said in Italian.
“Obviously.And you’re an Italian who speaks English,” she said in English.
“Obviously,” he said, and grinned at her.“But many Italians speak English.It is the language of the world, no? Not so many Americans speak Italian.”
“I don’t really speak it. I remember it.”
Her summers in Italy had ended with her mother’s death. Her grandmother had died the following year. “Broken heart,” her father had said.
“My grandmother was Italian, and I spent summers with her in Liguria.”
“Ah, charming Liguria!” He kissed the tips of his fingers.“Bello.And now, you are at charming Lake Haven. Do you have a grandmother here, as well?” he asked slyly.
“Actually, I am here on something of a personal journey.”
He looked at her blankly.
“Umm…let me think.Spirituale viaggio.”
“Ah, of course, a journey of spirits!” he proclaimed.
“Something like that,” Jenny agreed, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to clarify. “This is the perfect place for it, you know? So beautiful and pure here. It’s like one step closer to heaven.”
“No, this is no good, to be closer to heaven,” he said, wagging a finger at her.“If you reach heaven, then what have you left?”
“Who knows? That’s the beauty of discovery! You never know what’s around the corner.And you, Signore Bartolotti? What brings you here?”
“You wound me with thissignore,” he said.“I am for you, Lorenzo.”
“Okay. Lorenzo,” she said smiling.
“And this?” he said, gesturing grandly to the inn and the grounds.“This is like home to me,” he said, patting his palm against his heart.“I come to Lake Haven many times.”
“Why?”
“Why!” he scoffed. “Look around you, Jenny Turner. As you say,bellisimo.And I fish.”
What was it about fishing that was so appealing? She didn’t get it.
“But this time?” He waved his hand, and the two gold and diamond rings on his fingers caught the sunlight and almost blinded her.“This time, I do not fish.”
“Why not?”
“Because, mybellissima Americana,” he said, his eyes welling, “I cannot.”
