Love & Gelato(60)

“Prego,” a man’s voice said through the speaker. Matteo? The door unlocked with a loud click.

I looked at Ren. “You ready?”

“Who cares about me? Are you ready?”

“No.”

Before I could think, I shoved the door open, launching myself into a large, circular-shaped foyer. The room was made of shiny tile, and there was a huge light fixture with about ten different pendant lights jutting out of it like jellyfish tentacles. A blond man wearing a dress shirt and tie sat behind a curved silver desk. He was young and American-looking. Definitely not Matteo.

“Buon giorno. English?” he said in a bored voice.

“Yes.” My voice echoed.

“I’m afraid you’ve missed the class. It started more than a half hour ago.”

Ren stepped up next to me. “We’re not here for the class. I called a couple of hours ago about meeting with Matteo? My name is Lorenzo.”

“Lorenzo Ferrara?” He studied us for a moment. “I guess I didn’t realize that you were quite so young. Unfortunately, Mr. Rossi is upstairs teaching a class. His class times vary, and I can’t promise that he’ll have the time to meet with you afterward.”

“We’ll wait anyway,” I said quickly. Mr. Rossi. For all I knew he was standing right above me.

“And what is your name?” the man asked me.

“Lina . . .” I hesitated. Would Matteo recognize my last name? “My name is Lina Emerson.”

Ren shot me a look, but I just shrugged. The point was to tell Matteo who I was, right?

“Very well. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”

His phone rang with a loud brrrrnng, and he snatched it from the desk. “Buon giorno. Rossi Galleria e Scuola di Fotografia. Good morning, Rossi Gallery and Photography School.”

“Let’s look around,” I said to Ren. I was crazy jittery. Maybe a tour of the gallery would keep my mind off of what was about to happen.

“Sure.”

We walked under an arched doorway into the first room. The room was made of exposed brick, and all four walls were covered with framed photographs. A large one caught my eye and I walked over to it. It was a shot of an old graffiti-covered building in a big city, like New York City or somewhere, and one wall read, TIME DOESN’T EXIST, CLOCKS EXIST. There was a big looping handwritten signature in the bottom right corner: M. ROSSI.

“That’s pretty cool,” Ren said.

“Yeah, my mom would have loved his style.” Correction. She had loved his style. My sweat glands immediately went into overdrive.

Ren wandered ahead a few feet, and I headed in the other direction. Most of the photographs were by Matteo, and they were really good. Like really good.

“Lina? Could you come here for a second?” Ren’s voice was purposely calm, like when you need to tell someone they have a massive spider on their back but don’t want them to freak out.

“What?” I hurried over to him. “What is it?”

“Look.”

It took me a second to realize what I was looking at, and then I practically jumped out of my skin. It was a photograph of me. Or at least, the back of me, and I even remembered when my mom had taken it. I was five years old and I’d piled up a stack of books so I could watch out the window for our neighbor’s pony-size dog, with whom I’d had an intense love/fear relationship. I was wearing my favorite dress. I looked at the tag. Carolina, by Hadley Emerson.

“How did he get this?” Suddenly I felt light-headed. “He knows about me. This isn’t going to be a surprise.”

“Are you sure you want to stay?”

“I don’t know. Do you think he’s been waiting for me to show up?”

“Excuse me.” It was the man from the foyer. He was looking at us like he thought we might try to shove one of Matteo’s massive photographs into my purse. “Do you two have any questions?”

About a million. “Um, yeah. . . .” I gave the room a desperate glance. “Are all of these . . . for sale?”

“Not all of them. Some are part of Mr. Rossi’s private collection.”

“Does he have anything else by Hadley Emerson?” I pointed to the photograph.

“Hmm.” He walked over and took a look at Carolina. “I can check, but I believe this is the only one. Are you familiar with Hadley Emerson’s work?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

“Let me check our system and I’ll let you know.”

He walked out of the room and Ren raised his eyebrows. “Not exactly the most observant, is he?”

“What am I going to say to Matteo? Do I just tell him straight out who I am?”

“Maybe you should wait to see if he recognizes you.”

A door opened overhead and suddenly there was a thundering of voices and footsteps. Class was out. My breathing went into overdrive. This was a mistake. It was too fast. What if he didn’t want to be a part of my life? What if he did? Would he be as awful as the guy in my mom’s journal?

I grabbed Ren’s arm. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to meet him. You’re right. We should talk to Howard first. At least I know my mom trusted him.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Let’s get out of here.”