Page 20 of Summer Rush

For a little while, Henry and Quentin updated Kostos and Nancy about their recent documentary projects and about the potential for them to work on a feature-length documentary soon. Kostos was curious, asking wonderful questions that kept the men engaged far longer than Nancy had wanted. Like a much younger woman, she found herself jealous, waiting for Henry and Quentin to leave so she could have Kostos to herself again. Wasn’t that pathetic?

But later, in Kostos’ vacation home kitchen, as she sliced an onion with a very sharp knife, Kostos admitted he’d felt the same.

“They’re fascinating men, absolutely,” he said, scrubbing his hands with soap and water before he prepared the fish. “But I’ve met plenty of fascinating men. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Nancy’s heart hammered in her chest. Suddenly frightened she would make a mistake and cut herself, she put the knife down and turned toward Kostos, unsure how to translate to him that she hadn’t felt anything so invigorating in a very long time— that, prior to this arrival in her world, she’d been living vicariously through Alyssa, Maggie, and Janine. She didn’t want to do that anymore.

“I haven’t met anyone like you, either,” Nancy breathed. “I hope that isn’t too silly to say.”

“Everything is silly at this stage of the game,” Kostos said, his smile crooked. “But I am open to being a fool.”

“So am I.”

Kostos took a small step toward her. “It’s funny how long life is, isn’t it? It’s filled with so many eras, so many opportunities for change.”

“I never could have imagined it as a young woman.” Nancy’s voice wavered.

Kostos was close enough to take her hands in his. On the counter behind him, the fresh fish gleamed, pink and gray and fresh, ready for the skillet that was preheated on the stovetop. Neal had never cooked alongside Nancy, and Nancy would have never dreamed of such an arrangement. How nice to have someone beside her, preparing the feast. How nice to have a partner.

But Nancy didn’t stay the night. Perhaps it was due to fear, or the fact that she had an early-morning yoga class, or because she wanted to wake up even earlier than that to talk to Janine on the phone. After they dined on the back porch, watching as the sky fuzzed to darkness and the stars punctuated the black, Nancy gathered her things, hugged Kostos goodbye, and got into her car, ready to drive back to the Remington House. It was only when she returned home, washed her face, and tucked herself into bed alone that Kostos texted her.

KOSTOS: I wish you would have stayed.

But Nancy knew herself. She remembered the old days when she’d jumped into relationships too quickly, when she’d fallen in love too fast. She was grateful for a touch of naivety, as it allowed her to be open-hearted to this hope of romance. But being too naive, she knew, wasn’t just stupid— it was self-destructive.

ChapterNine

After more than a week in Venice, Janine, Alyssa, and Maggie had fallen into a gorgeous rhythm of sleeping, eating, walking, riding on water taxis and gondolas, and, of course, talking at-length about Teresa’s game— one that Alyssa was determined to win.

It had been two days since Francesca had revealed the clue: “Paradiso Terrestre,” a painting at the Gallerie dell’Accademia. Itching for the next clue, Alyssa dragged Janine and Maggie out of bed early that morning, fed them pastries, and chatted endlessly about the painting itself, which she’d learned had been painted by Jacopo Bassano in 1573.

“It’s less than one hundred years after the first Cacciapaglia was buried in the mausoleum,” Maggie pointed out. “Maybe Jacopo Bassano was involved with the family somehow? Maybe he married one of the women in the Cacciapaglia family?”

Alyssa’s eyes were illuminated. “I was thinking the same thing! But I have no idea how we can prove that. There’s not very much information on the painting online, at least nothing in English. And I think Teresa wants us to think outside the box again, you know? Maybe the clue has nothing to do with the painting’s history. Maybe it’s something about what’s featured in the painting itself. Or maybe there’s something on the frame?”

Alyssa buzzed with excitement all the way to the museum, which was located on the south bank of the Grand Canal. According to the informational pamphlet Janine picked up in the entryway, the museum had been founded in 1750— twenty-six years before the birth of the United States. The ornate building the museum was housed in, however, was far older— built in approximately 1343.

“1343!” Maggie hissed, lifting her chin to take in the impressively high ceilings.

“The top floor has paintings from 1300 to 1600,” Alyssa chimed in. “That’ll be where it is.”

Although Janine wanted to peruse the ground floor, to fall into these impossibly old works of art, she scampered after Alyssa as quickly as she could, with Maggie hot on her heels.

“I’ve never seen a pregnant woman move so quickly,” Maggie huffed. “I thought she was only two years younger than me! I didn’t know she was planning to train for the Olympics during her pregnancy.”

Janine laughed, whipping up the staircase to the top floor, where already Alyssa slipped through tourists, scouting for the painting. And not long afterward, they approached it, walking slowly, with reverence.

The painting itself was exquisite, featuring two naked figures— a man and a woman, whom Janine assumed were Adam and Eve. They were featured in a gorgeous and lush garden with the sky overhead looking dangerous, wrought with pain and anger. Animals cowered in the corner— lambs, a bunny, and a chicken, and birds were perched in the trees.

Alyssa crossed and uncrossed her arms, studying the painting. Janine watched Alyssa for some sign she understood the painting or why Teresa had chosen this as a clue. Maggie looked at it for a second or two before collapsing on the bench in front of it, clearly exhausted. Around them, tourists milled through the hall, pausing in front of each painting.

“The frame is normal, I guess,” Alyssa muttered, mostly to herself. “And the painting is extraordinary, of course. But I don’t see anything about it that makes me think of Teresa…”

Janine placed her hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “You know, if we don’t figure this out, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s been so nice here in Venice with my girls.”

Alyssa’s eyes snapped toward Janine, surprised. “You want to give up?”

The way Alyssa asked it reminded Janine of when she’d been a little girl, asking her mother or father if she could stay up just a little bit longer, if only to be with them. It had always broken Janine’s heart a little bit, as she’d always been fully aware of the fact that Alyssa would, one day, grow up. Now, she had.

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