Page 33 of Summer Rush

“I think you’re being called,” Kostos teased, leaping from the boat to take Nancy’s hand and help her out. Meanwhile, the gondola rower retrieved their suitcases and stacked them evenly on dry land. Kostos paid him handsomely, a tip that Nancy fully respected, then turned as Alyssa, Maggie, and Janine piled out of the house, all smiles. Alyssa and Maggie looked even more pregnant than ever, yet shining and happy, probably from all the wonderful food and sunshine.

One after another, Nancy hugged her Potter girls and made introductions. Kostos was charming as ever with them, complimenting the exterior of the villa and thanking them continually for allowing him to stay the night.

“Nancy knows how much I hate to fly,” he explained as they entered the villa. “But I hardly even thought about it up there.”

“That’s wonderful,” Janine said, giving Nancy a smile that meant a lot of different things— curiosity, happiness, confusion. “You spent the summer on Martha’s Vineyard?”

“I was all alone there,” Kostos affirmed. “Spending all these nights by myself. And then, suddenly, I met Nancy, and everything changed.”

“She’s pretty special,” Janine agreed. “We’ve missed her.”

Janine helped Kostos and Nancy bring their suitcases upstairs to two separate guest bedrooms and then gave them a brief tour of the house, finishing in the kitchen, where Alyssa and Maggie had made lemonade and espresso. They’d also purchased a variety of croissants and pastries, a divine first treat for the new arrivals.

“And we have something special planned for tonight!” Maggie added. “We hired a chef to come to the house to cook something spectacular.”

“We know you’ll be tired later,” Alyssa explained. “And it’s so nice to dine in this big, beautiful house. I love feeling like we’re living the way Teresa did.”

“I hope you didn’t do all this on our account,” Nancy said, although, of course, they had.

“Grandma, we’re over the moon that you’re here!” Alyssa said. “I’ve been lost in this scavenger hunt, basically going out of my mind.”

Beside her, Maggie nodded. “It’s been intense.”

“Your grandmother was telling me about that,” Kostos said as he sat at the kitchen table, eyeing the pastries. “How is it going?”

“We hit a dead end a couple of days ago,” Alyssa explained sadly.

“And we’re thinking about telling Teresa’s lawyer that we’re done,” Maggie said.

Janine sighed and leaned against the counter. “It was really fun at the beginning.”

“And we’ve learned a lot,” Alyssa insisted.

“Alyssa’s basically turned into a Venice historian,” Maggie added.

Alyssa shrugged, her eyes glinting with pride. “I don’t know about that.”

Together, they feasted on pastries until Kostos admitted he needed to lie down for a little while, and Nancy agreed that sounded like a good plan. Up in her bedroom alone, she sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about Kostos on the other side of the wall, wondering if he was thinking about her, too. And when she finally drifted off into a nap that lasted the rest of the afternoon, she dreamed of him.

When Nancy awoke, there was noise coming from downstairs— Italian language, banging doors, Alyssa’s laughter. Rubbing her eyes, Nancy got up and wandered to the mirror in the corner, where she did the best she could with a bit of makeup and concealer— all that could be done to freshen up her face, then headed downstairs to see what the fuss was about.

Maggie and Janine were in the living room, laughing together, as more and more bangs and raps came from the kitchen.

“What’s happening down here? Is this place haunted?” Nancy asked.

“Practically,” Janine said. “But you’re not hearing the ghosts right now. That’s just the chef prepping. He’s got Alyssa in there, doing what she can with a big, flashy knife.”

“Are they hacking the cabinets to bits?”

“I hope not,” Janine said.

Nancy tip-toed to the doorway of the kitchen to watch as an Italian chef who looked to be in his fifties showed Alyssa how to use a knife over an onion, laughing when she didn’t get it exactly right. He then turned to stir a pot on the stove and bang a skillet around as the peppers inside of it sizzled. Apparently, his version of cooking was percussive and expressive. Nancy had never seen anything like it before. Maybe it was the Italian way?

“Hi, Grandma!” Alyssa spotted her out of the corner of her eye. “Rico is showing me the ropes. Maybe I’ll get the hang of Italian cooking before we head back to Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Oh, Martha’s Vineyard! I hear it is the most beautiful place in the world,” Rico said with a sigh.

“I don’t know. Venice might be number one,” Nancy said, smiling.

---