Page 45 of Three Times You

“Thanks for coming by. I appreciate your honesty.” The lawyer turns and leaves.

The secretary clicks the door open, and just as Gin walks through it, she barely misses slamming into a young man. “Excuse me.”

“No, pardon me…Ginevra! What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

It takes her a few seconds to recognize him. “Nicola! Ciao!”

They exchange cheek-kisses.

“I’m here for an interview. You?”

“I work here.” Then he points to the plaque on the door. “You see? Or maybe you don’t remember my surname.”

It’s true. His name is Nicola Merlini.How could I have missed that? But I haven’t seen him in forever. I have an excuse.“You’re right, I just didn’t think of it.”

“Not a problem. Shall we have an espresso? There’s a café downstairs.”

They ride down in the elevator, and Gin looks at him curiously. Nicola had a crush on her, and they were about to see if they could work things out enough to become a couple, but then Step burst dizzyingly back into her life.

“It’s been forever since we last talked. We haven’t even run into each other by accident.”

“Well, I’m glad it finally happened today. How did the interview go?” Nicola asks.

“Well, I think…”

“Sacconi knows what he’s doing.” They walk into the café. “What’ll you have?”

“A decaffeinated espresso.”

“Decaf and a regular espresso, black, for me, thanks.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes on for Gin. Couldn’t Nicola have spotted her résumé and insisted she be hired? “Nicola, you’re not involved with me getting this interview, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You know that, if I find out that you pulled any strings, for that reason alone, I wouldn’t accept.”

Nicola smiles. “I know that about you, and it’s one of the things I like best. But I had nothing to do with it. I’d heard my father talking very favorably about a new thesis, but I had no idea it was yours.”

Gin savors her espresso with special enjoyment now.

Nicola looks at her and smiles. He really still likes her. He’s glad he talked his father into taking her on.

Chapter 37

Come right in, please.”

The secretary ushers Gin into a small waiting room where other expectant mothers are sitting, their bellies all more or less swollen. Some are so big with child that they’re certainly about to give birth. They’re looking at their cell phones, reading newspapers and magazines, and one is playing with her four-year-old daughter.

“But why are we giving him the same name as Grandpa? When I say Hugo, am I talking to him or Grandpa?”

“To both,” her mother replies with a smile.

“Oh.”

“Signora Biro?”

Gin stands up and walks toward her.

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