Authors: Anita Hughes
“She was very special,” Amelia agreed. “I feel fortunate to be playing her role.”
“You do look like her, you have the same wide brown eyes and narrow cheekbones,” the woman mused. Suddenly she got up and walked over to Amelia. “Do you mind if I join you? I hate drinking alone, I feel like a character in a daytime soap opera.”
“Please do.” Amelia nodded, admiring her glossy hair and smooth skin. “I’m happy to have company.”
“My name is Lily, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The woman held out her hand. “I just turned sixty, it’s the worst birthday I’ve had since Chanel discontinued Chanel No. 9.”
“What happened?” Amelia asked.
“We had to evacuate Bermuda because of a hurricane,” Lily began. “I didn’t want to go back to New York, we always close the town house in August. We decided to come to Rome, our son lives here.” She stirred her martini. “We met at Mirabelle for dinner and it started wonderfully. My husband gave me a diamond necklace and my son looked so handsome in a white dinner jacket and black tie.
“My husband has been pressuring my son to join the family firm for years.” Lily sighed. “One can’t help wanting the best for one’s children: a beautiful home, a lovely family, the means to travel and enjoy gourmet foods and fine wines.
“A few days ago my son called and asked to borrow ten thousand dollars to buy an engagement ring. He met the most beautiful girl and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.” Lily explained. “It must have been terribly hard for him to ask his father for money, but true love will make you do anything.
“My husband hesitated but I insisted we send him the money. He accused us of coming to Rome to see if we approved of his choice.” Lily frowned. “He got terribly angry and stormed out of the restaurant. I think he was upset because the girl turned him down.”
Amelia sat quietly, stirring her drink. She gazed at the glass bottles lining the bar and the intricate murals covering the walls and the gold inlaid ceiling. She watched waiters in white jackets carrying trays of brightly colored drinks and men smoking thick cigars. She turned and looked at Lily.
“What’s the name of your husband’s company?” Amelia whispered.
“Hamilton and Sons,” Lily replied. “It’s a stockbroking firm on Wall Street. Have you heard of it?”
“I…” Amelia began.
“Are you all right?” Lily leaned forward. “You look very pale.”
“I just remembered something.” Amelia jumped up. “I have to go.”
“I know why you look familiar,” Lily exclaimed. “I saw your photo in Philip’s apartment.”
* * *
Amelia stood in front of her closet and picked out a white crepe dress. She fastened her hair with a gold clip and slipped a gold bangle around her wrist. She coated her eyes with mascara and rubbed her lips with pink lip gloss.
There was a knock on the door and she crossed the marble entry to answer it.
“We got back from Pompeii late last night and I didn’t want to wake you.” Sophie burst into the room. She wore a yellow linen dress and silver sandals. Her hair was knotted in a low ponytail and tied with a yellow ribbon. “I couldn’t sleep all night, I couldn’t wait to show you.”
“Show me what?” Amelia asked.
“This.” Sophie displayed a large square diamond flanked by two glittering rubies.
“It’s gorgeous,” Amelia gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s my mother’s ring, my lady-in-waiting sent it to Theo.” Sophie perched on an ivory silk love seat. “We took the ferry from Naples to Capri and had dinner at the Hotel Quisisana. It’s the most gorgeous hotel, everything is pink and green and turquoise. After dessert the waiter brought a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I asked what we were celebrating and Theo dropped to his knee and asked me to marry him.”
“What if you said no.” Amelia giggled.
“I said yes before he finished asking the question.” Sophie grinned. “After dinner we strolled to Ana Capri and danced in the moonlight.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Amelia smiled.
“I feel different being officially engaged, as if I’m already part of something bigger. I can’t wait to show Theo the palace and the countryside.” Sophie paused and glanced at Amelia. “Why are you all dressed up? It’s barely eight
A.M.
”
“I met a woman at the Hassler Bar, I was sitting by myself and she joined me,” Amelia began. “She and her husband came to Rome to celebrate her birthday with her son. They got into a fight at dinner and her son stormed out of the restaurant. He was devastated because he bought an engagement ring and the girl turned him down.
“I asked her what was the name of her husband’s firm and she said it was Hamilton and Sons.” Amelia’s eyes were wide. “I realized her son was Philip.”
“You met Philip’s mother.” Sophie gasped. “I don’t understand, you said Philip had to return the ring.”
“He borrowed money from his father to buy the ring,” Amelia beamed. “He wasn’t lying when he asked me to marry him, he’s in love with me.”
“I knew he loved you.” Sophie smiled. “But why didn’t he tell you?”
“I told Ernesto I didn’t want to see him.” Amelia replied. “I’m going to his apartment to tell him I know the truth.”
“We’ll have a double wedding at Lentz Cathedral,” Sophie exclaimed. “We’ll invite European royalty and Hollywood celebrities. The Vienna Boys’ Choir will sing and Pope Francis will give his blessing.”
Amelia remembered when she discovered Sophie in the laundry basket at the Hassler. She remembered drinking glasses of Chianti and Sophie telling her she was a princess. She saw Sophie’s suite littered with Fendi dresses and Prada sandals and Sophie saying she pawned a tiara.
“I can’t have a royal wedding.” Amelia gave Sophie a hug. “You’re the real princess, I’m just an actress.”
* * *
Amelia walked into the bedroom and grabbed her purse. She saw a stack of papers on the mahogany bedside table and suddenly had an idea. She selected a piece of ivory card stock and wrote:
Dear Lily,
I discovered these letters hidden in an antique desk in my suite. Audrey Hepburn wrote them over fifty years ago while she was filming
Roman Holiday
.
You were right when you said Audrey Hepburn was a very special actress. I learned so much about acting and love from reading her letters. I’ve been wondering what to do with them. It didn’t seem right to make them public but I couldn’t just tape them back underneath the desk.
I hope you don’t mind if I give them to you. Perhaps you’ll know where they belong. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. I know we only talked briefly, but it was a great pleasure meeting you.
Amelia
Amelia stuffed the letters in an envelope and walked into the hallway. She pressed the button on the elevator and waited for the doors to open.
“Good morning, Miss Tate,” Ernesto called. “You are up early.”
“I have a few errands to run.” Amelia approached the concierge desk. “Could you do me a favor?”
“I am at your service.” Ernesto nodded.
“Could you give this to a guest?” Amelia handed him the brown envelope. “Her name is Lily Hamilton.”
“It will be my pleasure.” Ernesto took the envelope. “Can I get you a croissant or a glass of juice?”
“No thank you.” Amelia waved her hand. “I’m not in the least bit hungry.”
Amelia walked through the gold revolving doors and paused on the sidewalk. Bentleys and Jaguars lined the curb and valets carried Louis Vuitton cases and Gucci garment bags.
“Miss Tate.” Marco approached her. “It is lovely to see you. Would you like a taxi?”
Amelia breathed in the scent of bougainvillea and azalea and French perfume. She turned to Marco and her face lit up in a smile.
“The weather is too nice to sit in a taxi, I’m going to walk.”
She hurried down the Spanish Steps and crossed the Piazza di Spagna. She strode along the Via Condotti to the Piazza di Trevi. She pictured Philip’s dark eyes and smooth cheeks and walked faster.
Philip gazed at the cardboard boxes filled with books and notepads. He glanced at the shirts laid out on his bed and the ties lining his dresser.
Signora Griselda said her nephew needed an apartment and he decided to return to New York. He pictured Amelia’s brown eyes and wide smile and felt a pain in his chest.
“Isn’t it a little early in the morning for redecorating?” Max asked, entering the apartment. He wore a yellow collared shirt and blue jeans. His hair was freshly washed and he carried a wax paper bag. “The countess and I made strawberry ricotta cannoli, I want you to try one.”
“It’s delicious.” Philip took a bite of fluffy pastry and creamy ricotta cheese.
“Italian divorce laws are worse than slavery.” Max opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. “Mirabella gets nothing except her clothes and jewelry. Her uncle left her a pied-à-terre in Florence. We are going to live there and open a pastry shop.”
“You’re moving in with the countess?” Philip raised his eyebrow.
“We’re getting married,” Max corrected. “Mirabella doesn’t believe in living together.”
“Isn’t that a bit sudden?” Philip frowned. “You’re so young, what if you want children?”
“Mirabella is only forty-two.” Max shrugged. “I’m crazy about her. All I want is to hear her laugh and smell her perfume.”
“I’m happy for you.” Philip nodded, stacking plates and silverware.
“Where are you going?” Max asked, glancing at the plane ticket on the glass dining room table.
“I’m leaving for New York.” Philip looked at his watch. “My plane departs in four hours.”
“What about
Inside Rome
?” Max asked.
“Adam will find other journalists.” Philip shrugged. “I’ll work at Hamilton and Sons until I pay my father back. Then I’ll get a newspaper job in New York. It’s time I wrote about gentrification in Brooklyn instead of the truffle festival in Sabina.”
“Have you told Amelia?” Max sipped his orange juice.
“I tried to see her but Ernesto said she wouldn’t talk to me,” Philip said stiffly.
“You can’t just give up.” Max put down his glass. “What if I quit when the countess was furious at me for giving her daughter earrings? What if I let the count catch us when he chased us in the Alfa Romeo?”
“Even if I told Amelia the articles were a mistake and I’m in love with her, how could she ever trust me?” Philip asked.
“She lied, too,” Max insisted. “She said she was a maid.”
“But she didn’t do anything to hurt me.” Philip sighed. “I made a mess of everything.”
Max reached into his pocket and drew out a wad of lire.
“Give this to Ernesto and demand he let you up to her suite.” He handed them to Philip.
“This is a fortune.” Philip examined the stack of notes.
“The countess sold a sapphire ring.” Max shrugged.
“I can’t take it.” Philip shook his head. “You said all she has left is her jewelry.”
Max walked to the counter and put his glass in the sink. He finished the cannoli and dusted sugar from his jeans. “The countess has one of the largest private jewelry collections in Rome.”
* * *
Philip entered the Hassler and strode across the marble lobby. He saw Ernesto’s slick black hair and gold uniform and hurried to the concierge desk.
“Ernesto,” Philip called. “I need to see Amelia.”
“I am sorry, I cannot allow that.” Ernesto looked up from his computer.
“You don’t understand.” Philip drew the wad of lire out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. “It’s about Amelia’s health, I’m very worried about her.”
Ernesto glanced at the thick pile of notes and gasped.
“If Miss Tate is unwell…” He hesitated.
“I’m sure I can help if you take me to her suite.” Philip pressed the notes in his hand.
Ernesto stuffed the money in his pocket and wiped his brow.
“Miss Tate isn’t here,” he said.
“Where is she?” Philip asked.
“She had to run some errands.” Ernesto shrugged. “She is leaving this evening.”
“Leaving?” Philip sucked in his breath.
“Checking out.” Ernesto consulted his computer. “Flying back to America.”
“I see.” Philip’s eyes flickered. He smoothed his hair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Thank you, Ernesto. You’ve been very helpful.”
Philip stood on the sidewalk and squinted in the bright sunshine. He pictured Amelia wearing oversized sunglasses and white sandals. He imagined her smiling and stepping into a taxi. He felt the air leave his lungs and a weight press down on his shoulders. He glanced at his watch and raised his hand.
* * *
Amelia rushed up the metal staircase and knocked on the door of Philip’s apartment. She waited and knocked again. Finally she turned the handle and walked inside.
The red rug was littered with boxes and there was a stack of magazines on the wooden coffee table. White towels hung on the bathroom door and fresh sheets were piled on the bed. A woman with wiry dark hair stood on the narrow fire escape.
“Excuse me,” Amelia called. “I’m looking for Philip.”
“I am Signora Griselda.” She wiped her hands on her dress. “I’m afraid you missed him.”
“Do you know where he went?” Amelia asked.
“Signor Hamilton left for America,” Signora Griselda replied.
“America.” Amelia’s eyes were wide. “He didn’t say he was leaving.”
“My nephew is taking the apartment,” Signora Griselda explained. “Signor Hamilton is a very nice man, he said he would write me a postcard. I have never been to New York, I want to see the Statue of Liberty.”
* * *
Amelia trudged up the Spanish Steps and walked slowly back to the Hassler. She wanted to take off her sandals and collapse on an ivory silk love seat. She wanted to draw the curtains and drink a glass of cold limoncello.
“Miss Tate.” Ernesto rushed over to her. “You are very pale, can I get you a glass of water?”
“I’m all right, Ernesto.” Amelia tried to smile. “The sun is so hot, I felt a little light-headed. I’m going to go upstairs and take a cool bath.”
“Mr. Hamilton was here.” Ernesto hesitated. “He wanted to see you.”