Love & Gelato(55)

He wasn’t going to talk about X.

“Thanks for your help,” I said after a moment, getting to my feet.

As Ren and I passed by Violetta’s desk, she jumped up and gave us a smile as wide as the Arno. “It was such an honor meeting you, and I’m so happy we could help. Have a wonderful day.”

“. . . Thanks.”

As soon as the glass door sealed shut behind us, Ren raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”





Chapter 17




“PETRUCIONE DEFINITELY KNEW WHO WE were talking about. Did you see that look he got on his face?”

Ren nodded. “Yeah, couldn’t miss it. And he’d said like five seconds before that he doesn’t forget people’s names. He just didn’t want to tell us.”

“Hopefully we’ll have more luck with Francesca.” I dialed her number, then pressed the phone to my ear. “It’s ringing.”

“Pronto?” It was a man.

“Um, Francesca Bernardi?”

He answered in rapid Italian. “Um, Francesca?” I said again.

He tsk-tsked. Then the phone started ringing again and a woman picked up. “Pronto?” Her voice was low and smoky.

“Hello, Francesca?”

“Si?”

“My name is Carolina. You don’t know me, but you knew my mom. Hadley Emerson?”

Silence. I made a face at Ren.

“What?” he whispered.

“Carolina,” she said slowly. “What a surprise. Yes. I knew your mother. She was a dear friend.”

My heart sped up. “I’m just trying to learn a little bit more about her . . . studies in Florence. You were her roommate, right?”

“Yes. And a messier woman never lived! I thought I was going to be buried alive in her rubble.”

“Yeah . . . that was always kind of an issue. Could you maybe answer some questions for me about her life in Florence?”

“I’m sure I could, but why are you asking me? Hadley and I haven’t been in touch in ages.”

“Well . . .” I hesitated. I never knew how to break the news to people. It was like opening a dam. You never knew what they were going to hit you with. “She died. A little over six months ago.”

Francesca gasped sharply. “Non ci posso credere. How?”

“Pancreatic cancer. It was pretty sudden.”

“Oh, my poor dear. Era troppo giovane, veramente. I would be happy to talk about your mother. After she finished her program she dropped off the side of the world. None of us were able to get in touch with her.”

“Do you . . . ?” I grimaced. “This will sound weird. But do you remember if she was dating anyone?”

“Oh, the love life of Hadley Emerson. It was like a romance novel. Your mother was in love, yes, and I think half of Firenze was in love with her. I always knew who was right for her—we all did—but then there was that Matteo causing a mess and ruining things.”

“Matteo?” I croaked. I hadn’t even had to push; she’d just dropped his name into my lap.

Ren looked up sharply.

“Yes. Our professor.”

“Professor,” I whispered to Ren. Well, that cleared up the whole secrecy thing.

“. . . He had her very confused, and I was so angry that she’d hurt our friend. . . .” She trailed off. “I feel like I’m telling old secrets.”

“What’s Matteo’s last name?”

She paused. “I believe it was Rossi. Yes, that sounds right. But I shouldn’t even mention him. That man was a waste of time for everyone, especially your mother.” She sighed. “We all wanted to save her from him. He was charming. Very handsome. But controlling. He thought he could find talent and take it on as his own. It was quite the scandal when he was fired.”

“Fired?” So much for “creative space.”

“Yes. But that’s all old news.” Her voice lifted. “Do you know who would be a great person for you to talk to? Howard Mercer. He was another classmate of ours, and he works at a cemetery just outside of Florence. He and your mother were very close. Would you like his phone number?”

“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly. “So, Matteo Rossi. Any idea where he is these days?”

“None whatsoever. And I like it best that way. But how old are you, Lina? I have a daughter as well.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Hadley was hardly old enough to have a daughter your age. So let’s see, that means you were born in . . .” She trailed off. “Aspetta. Sixteen years old?”

“Um, yes.”

Her voice sharpened. “Lina, are you calling because—”

“Got to go,” I said hastily. “Nice talking to you.” I quickly pressed END.

Ren was leaned up against me, his ear a couple of inches from the speaker. He stepped back. “What was that all about?”

“She was putting together who my dad is. Sounds like they might still be in touch, and I don’t want this to get back to Howard.”

“What did she say X’s name is?”

I smiled triumphantly. “Professor Matteo Rossi. We are so going to find him.”