Page 9 of Three Times You

“Sure, but what happens next?”

I find myself forced to peer at the situation through a new prism. “Right, so I went to the Balthus show because she wanted to talk to me. That’s one solid fact. The second is that Babi has no interest in working for us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Babi would never do anything of the sort.” As I utter those words, I realize I have no idea what she would or wouldn’t do. Who is Babi, anyway? What’s happened in all this time? How much has she changed? I find myself staring at the Coca-Cola. Giorgio is right. We need strong liquor in this office. It would help at times like this.

“Well, Babi isn’t looking for a job interview. She was there to introduce me to my son.” As I say it, I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach and a pang in my heart. Giorgio must notice, because he leaves me alone and stops peppering me with questions.

“Do you need some time to yourself?”

“No, don’t worry. But what I don’t understand is why it took her so long. Why did she wait? Why did she decide to tell me now, of all times?”

“Because she knows you. She knows you’d have kicked up a ruckus. She knows you would have wanted a different kind of life for her.”

“Yes.” I’m stunned. A different kind of life for her. A different kind of lifewithher.

But she didn’t give me that chance. And now it is too late.

“So what are you going to do?”

I look at Giorgio in surprise.

“Do you think that she’s trying to get you to pay child support?”

“Look, I have no idea what’s happening. I’ve just been catapulted into the past, and I’m discovering that the past is not only my present, but actually my future. I thought I’d forgotten Babi, and now I found out that something still ties me to her, and forever. We have a son.”

“Okay. Well, one thing is clear…”He gets up and strides resolutely toward the door. I finally glimpse a flash of light. When you’re as confused as I am, you need someone who can think clearly.

I look at him with profound curiosity. “What’s that?”

“I’m firing Giuliana right now.”

Chapter 11

Gin remembered the night it all happened. She’d been ignoring all of Step’s pleas to reconcile, his silent vigil outside her apartment building. But then, one day, her mother gave her an invitation from her friend Eleonora to meet her at a chic restaurant for a night out, just girls. What a relief, what a break from all that tedium and grim, unrelenting heartache.

As Gin parked her car, she felt her cell phone buzz. Someone had just texted her. She looked at the time. It was nine p.m. Could Ele have become so remarkably punctual? She never had been before.And now she wants me to be punctual? That’s just crazy.That’s when she realized how wrong you can be. The text was from Nicola. Absurd, what a coincidence. She’d just been thinking about him. He asked her out for the next night.

Well, Gin thought to herself, he might not be Step, but at least he’s likable.Sure, she replied.See you tomorrow.

Gin went in the front door of the hotel and followed the instructions. She stepped into the elevator and pushed seven. The doors slid shut, and the elevator cab took her up to the top floor of the splendid building. When the doors opened, her jaw dropped. Dim lights, flowers everywhere, vitrines glittering with crystal, blown-glass vases and antique porcelain items, perfect. The big picture windows of the restaurant overlooked a breathtaking vista, ranging from the turn-of-the-century buildings that dated from the reign of King Umberto I on the Pincian Hill all the way down to the historical city center and even farther, where the last roofs of Rome faded into infinity. The dining room was completely empty of customers. There was just one waiter, about fifty years old with a slightly receding hairline, smiling at her. At his side stood the chef, a man with agoatee and an attentive look, dressed in a perfect chef’s uniform, right up to the toque on his head.

“Buonasera. You must be Ginevra,” said the waiter courteously. Gin could do nothing but nod. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival. This way please. Your table awaits.”

Gin followed both men without a word.

“Please, be seated.” The waiter pulled back the chair and helped her to sit down.

The chef turned and gave her a handwritten menu. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing these dishes, but if they’re not to your liking, just tell me what else you’d like.”

Gin took the menu, on a handsome cream-colored, fine laid paper, and started to read. She gulped. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Spaghetti with clam sauce and bottarga. Sea bass baked in salt with a side dish of asparagus and purple potatoes. For dessert, pineapple and pistachio gelato.

All her favorite dishes. She could barely stammer, “No-no, this will do fine.” The chef smiled, but Gin knew that something didn’t add up. This couldn’t be Ele’s doing. She could barely remember whether or not to sugar her coffee. She’d never come up with such a detailed menu.

“With your permission, I’ll just head back to the kitchen,” the waiter said. And both men walked politely away.

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