Taking Tuscany (14 page)

Daddy loves to tease Mama about what a gracious hostess she is. “But it's so charming to have you take it to them in your bathrobe and curlers, darlin'.”

We've found there are two kinds of guests. The kind you only see when they check in and check out. And the kind who think we're here to entertain them around the clock. We kids don't get a dime out of this deal, so when the guests expect us to babysit, or give swimming lessons to their kids for five hours a day, like some of them did this past summer, we feel like saying,
Excuse me, we are running a motel here, people, not Club Med
. Mama says it more eloquently but gets the point across.

Most of the people are really nice and don't bring a bunch of kids with them anyway. But our last guests thought they could leave their whiny children with us while they went tootling off to Florence for the day. Mama set them straight real fast.

Saturday morning Daddy pops into my room just as I'm waking up. “Hey, check out the picture in today's paper,” he says.

“Mama,
again
?”

“Not this time. Someone took a photo of what he thought was an angel riding horseback through his field, but it turns out to be a nun wearing a habit.”

I grab the paper from his hands. “Let me see that.” There we are, big as day: me and the reverend mother, galloping across the hillside on Caesar, with Napoleon and his boys trailing behind. At least it's from a distance and no one can see our faces. The caption reads:
Mystery Riders Take to the Hills
, then goes on to say, “A cloaked figure is captured on camera, galloping past Caprinito Brothers' vineyards for an afternoon ride. ‘At first glance I thought it was an angel on horseback,' Caprinito said, ‘but when the picture came out, it looked more like a nun in a habit riding behind a little blonde girl. I've seen the little blonde gal riding these hills before, but never with a nun along. It's just not something you expect to see every day.'”

I hand the paper back to Daddy.

“Who's your friend, A. J.?”

“What?”

“Come on, I know that horse, and I'm pretty sure I know the kid riding it. So who's the nun?”

I fall back into bed and pull the covers over my head.
Oh, what I would give for a picture of this …
Yeah, I said it … but I didn't mean like this! I can't take any more public humiliation.
Basta, basta!
Stop it, enough!

A half hour later Mama knocks on my door. “Is the princess in?”

“The princess is sleeping.” I just don't feel like talking to anybody right now, unless it's about a one-way ticket home.

“The princess can't be sleeping if the princess is talking.”

“The princess is talking in her sleep.”

Mama barges in anyway. I'm still lying here with the covers over my head.

She sits on the end of my bed and yanks my covers down. “What are you so mopey about?” she asks.

“Life.”

“You haven't lived long enough to mope about life yet.”

Staring up at the knotholes in my ceiling beams, I reply, “If you're trying to tell me that life gets worse than this, I'm too depressed to hear it.”

“Why are you so depressed?”

“Because I'm not happy.”

“… Okay. I'm so glad we've had this little talk, and now that we've cleared everything up, I think it's time to go shopping. Come on, I'm taking you to Poggibonsi.”

I remain catatonic but my eyes shift toward Mama. “Poggi-what?”

“Poggibonsi. It's a fun little place to go when you're not happy.”

“Oh. Okay.” I guess I have nothing to lose.

Mama and I hop in the Fiat, drive down the winding dirt road, out to the
autostrada,
and head north. Twenty-three kilometers later, we exit.
Benvenuto a Poggibonsi
,
Welcome to Poggibonsi, the sign says. I step out of the car and take a good look around. It's not a bad little town to be depressed in.

“Come on, I'll show you my favorite shop.” Mama leads the way to a little hole-in-the-wall shop and holds the door open for me. I walk into a small, dark, brick room filled with books—shelves and shelves of books, cushy chairs with side tables, and cute little lamps. There's also a coffee bar, with small wooden tables and chairs.

“Wow. This looks like the Seven Dwarves' house, huh?”

“Well, you said you're not
Happy,
so maybe we can figure out which one you are.”

“Which what?”

“Dwarf.”

It takes me a minute. “Oh, Mama … that was so dumb it's not even funny.”

“Okay,
Grumpy,
whatever you say.”

“Stop it. I'm not Happy or Grumpy.”

“Well, I'm
Sleepy,
so while you pick out a book, I'm going to hop on up to the coffee bar and order myself a shot of espresso.” Mama is snickering to herself for being so clever.

I'm just trying not to laugh. I hate it when I don't want to laugh and end up around someone like Mama. She'll make it her quest in life to sabotage my bad mood. “I hope you're big enough to see over the counter,” I manage to say, with a straight face.

My biggest weakness—next to rescuing animals—is, of course, books. I love books. I love to read them, I love to write them, I love the way they smell when they're new, or from a library, and I love them even in Italian when I want a new perspective on an old favorite. I'm also very jealous that my cousin is a finalist in the Dante Awards. I'd like to find a book on Dante and find out why there is an award named after him. While a little white-haired lady is looking up my book, I decide to go over and join Mama at the coffee bar.

“Where's your book?” she asks, sipping her espresso.

“Oh, Snow White is over there trying to hunt one up for me.”

Mama suddenly spews her espresso all over, alternately choking and laughing herself silly. That gets the attention of the entire shop, which makes it unbearably funnier to her. I'm trying to help Mama to stop laughing so she doesn't choke herself to death, but I'm not having much luck. “It wasn't that funny, Mama, really.”

When I finally get her to settle back down, someone who's been watching all this says, “
Lei è Sofia Loren
?”

“Oh, no, not now,” I mutter.

Mama takes a few deep breaths and says, “Don't worry, kiddo, I've got it under control.” She starts to dig around in her purse. Everyone in the shop is moving in for a better look. Suddenly Mama turns around and flashes them all a huge grin with a set of fake buckteeth in her mouth. That puts the skids on everyone. The looks on their faces nearly send me through the roof. I grab Mama and drag her out by the arm. We double over with laughter, and stumble out the door—without my new book. Once we make it to the curb, we lean against the car with tears rolling down our faces.

“Mama,” I squeal, “I guess I really am
Happy
after all.”

Those teeth get me every time. Mama and Daddy have an amazing collection of teeth for special occasions. They especially like to use them to embarrass us in front of our friends when we're late coming home. Adriana saw more than her share of the collection back in Squawkomish. It always made my day when it happened to her.

Pulling ourselves together, we climb back into the Fiat and try to head home. I say
try
because the street only goes one way and it's in the opposite direction from where we want to go. We keep turning to get headed the other way, but all of the streets just lead us in circles. We cannot, for the life of us, get ourselves out of this one-way town.

“A. J.,” Mama says, “if we can't figure this out, we're going to have to call your dad and tell him to come get us out of here.”

I can just picture our family stuck in this town forever. “Mama, just go ask someone.”

“No, they'll think I'm
Dopey.
Let's just follow the car in front of us.”

Before long the car in front of us is going in circles too. This is the craziest town I have ever been in. I'm beginning to wonder if this isn't one of those weird nightmares where the same thing happens over and over, but you can't wake yourself up. After driving in circles for a half hour, Mama finally gives in and pulls over behind a police officer.

“
Scusami, il signore
,” she begins. “Excuse me, sir, we're having a little trouble with these one-way streets; could you be so good as to escort us out of town?”

“
Non è un problema, Signorina Loren
.” No problem, Miss Loren. He motions for us to follow him.

Mama looks over at me and smiles. “Stick with me kid, everything's going to be all right.”

There may be hope for Dorothy yet.

13

An Early Frost

We had a severe temperature dip overnight and awoke to a frosty-freeze world outside. Luckily for the vineyard owners, the harvest is behind them. September was the month of the
Vendemmia
in Tuscany. The big grape harvest. All over Tuscany the grapes have been crushed and barreled, soon to become some of the world's finest wines. The closest I have gotten to tasting wine has been in the communion chalice at mass. I honestly don't see what all the hype is about. It tastes like sour grapes to me—a bitter batch of grape juice. But I don't know what they expect after letting it sit around in those old barrels year after year. Logic should tell you to drink it when it's fresh off the vine. It's just a wonder to me how so many people fall for this stuff.

The one highlight of the early frost is that our little lake—or big pond—is frozen solid. Solid enough to enjoy a good skate after school. I'm digging my ice skates out of the closet so I can set them out to warm up by the fire while I'm at school.

“You're late, A. J.!” Mama yells. She's stationed at her morning lookout spot by the kitchen window, where she sips her coffee and watches the kids walk to school. She always shouts a heads-up when the last of the kids go by.

I go ripping out the door, slip down the front steps on my backside, and slide all the way to the curb. J. R. is up ahead, walking with Celeste. He's made it clear he prefers to walk alone with her. I think he's afraid I might say something embarrassing.

When I reach the top of our hill, I look around for Bianca. She is nowhere in sight, so I end up walking the rest of the way alone.
Does this mean I have to face school entirely on my own today?
It's beginning to look that way.

The loner lunch tables along the back are covered with posters for some art project, so I have to settle for a table in middle of the cafeteria. I save a seat for Bianca just in case she shows up late. Maybe the frost threw her off course. I look around the cafeteria, but I only see Dominic walking toward the bee colony.

“
Di qua,
Dominic,” over here, Annalisa calls from the table behind me.

He makes his way down the aisle, and sees the empty seat next to me. “
Posso sedere qui
?” he asks. Mind if I sit here?

“Nope.” I scoot over a little. I can feel Annalisa's eyes burning a hole through the back of my head.

“Cold out, huh?” He sets his lunch tray down and takes off his big parka.

“Yeah, our lake even froze. I'm going ice-skating after school.”

He slides in next to me. “Really? You have your own skates?”

“Yep. They're sitting by the fire right now getting warm.”
Okay, that's something a five-year-old would say.

“I wish I had some skates. I'd love to try ice-skating.”

“You could borrow my brother's skates.” As if he'd even want to …

“No kidding? That would be cool. Can I come over after school and go skating with you?”

“Um … sure.
What
?” I'm suddenly not sure I heard him right.

“Can I go skating with you after school?”

“Yeah, anyone can skate there.”
That was personal.

“Great, I've always wanted to learn to ice-skate. How about if I just walk home with you?”

“Um, okay.”

I sit back, remind myself to breathe, then turn to make sure it's really me he's been talking to. Annalisa's staring at me out of the corner of her eye. She's not smiling.

Dominic's friend, Dario, comes by and sits down across from him. That helps take the pressure off me. Now everyone can stop looking at me and Dominic like we're a couple. Bianca will never believe me when I tell her. She thinks Dario is the biggest hunk-a-hunk on the planet. I still can't believe they chose sitting next to me over a personal invite to the bee colony. Sure beats eating alone.

When I'm finished with my salami-and-cheese sandwich, I get up to leave.

“See you after school,” Dominic says.

“Yeah, see you.” I step out in the aisle in front of Annalisa.

“
Ciao
,
Angelina.”

I turn around.

“Did you say you're going ice-skating today?”

“… Yeah.”

“I was wondering if I could walk home with you after school and go skating too. I've had private lessons and could teach you how to spin.”

I'll bet you could. You'll probably spin me into kingdom come.
I don't think I want to skate with someone who'd rather see me dead than alive
.
“Uh … you might need some ice skates if you're planning to go ice-skating.”

“Maybe I'll just slide around the ice in my shoes, and give you some pointers.”

Like point me into the thin ice area of the pond?
Maybe I'm not ready to die yet.
“Um, isn't it a little cold out for skirts?”

“Oh … right. Okay, I'll have my driver bring me over after I change my clothes and grab my skates.”

Great. I'm toast.
“Uh, well … if I'm already at the pond, just ask my mom for directions.”

“Great. Can't wait.”

I can, dang it.

After school Dominic walks home with me, J. R., and Celeste. We all show up together at the castle.

Mama is in seventh heaven, fussing over us, fixing up little plates of cookies and cups of hot chocolate, like we just got home from kindergarten. She keeps wiggling her eyebrows at me. “Just friends, Mama,” I whisper, hoping she will stop before Dominic notices.

I grab the ice skates and tell Mama we'll be at the pond in case Annalisa comes by. “Just point her down the hill.”

“Annalisa? Isn't she the one …”

“Mama …” I give her
the look
. I really don't need her announcing everything in front of Dominic.

“All right, go have fun skating. Don't worry about Annalisa, I'll take good care of her.”

I don't trust that look in Mama's eyes one bit. She can be a real mama bear when it comes to people messin' with her cubs. Good thing she doesn't know about the chewing-gum hairdo, or Annalisa probably wouldn't live to see tomorrow.

The four of us head down the hill to the pond. J. R. is bringing some wood to start a fire in the burn barrel. It's our skating tradition. Dominic puts J. R.'s skates on and wobbles out on the ice like a newborn calf trying to walk for the first time. I can't help but laugh. “Watch out for that … kid!”

After helping him back up, I give him a few pointers on keeping his skates headed in the right direction. Before long he starts to get the hang of it. Some of the other families on our hill make their way to the pond and join us. By the time the sun starts to set, there are a dozen kids skating, and more warming their hands by the fire.

I try to pull off an impressive Olympic spin in the middle of the pond, and end up spinning across the ice on my tail instead. Dominic comes to offer me a hand up. I grab hold of his gloved hand with my mitten and he pulls me to my feet. Once I'm up, he starts to skate beside me but doesn't let go of my hand. It's a little strange holding hands with a boy for the first time, but we're not, really, since I can't feel his hand. It's kind of nice just skating along talking, holding gloves, just being friends. I'm not afraid of Dominic because I know he was just as chicken at sin-the-chianti-bottle as I was. We at least have that in common.

When it's time to swap skates with J. R. and Celeste, Dominic and I head to the burn barrel to get warm. I look up the hill at the lights shining from our kitchen window and wonder why Annalisa never showed up. Dominic says he'll walk me back home, then he needs to get home for his supper.

“Thanks for taking me skating, Angelina,” he says. “I have a feeling I'm going to be a little sore tomorrow, but I had fun.”

I'm feeling a little sore myself.

When we reach the top of our hill, we part ways. “See you tomorrow, Dominic.”

“
Ciao
.” He turns and walks the other way home.

“Mama, I'm home!”

“Oh, so you are. Did you have a nice skate with your very nice, very handsome friend?”

“Yes, I did, thank you. I'm surprised Annalisa never showed up to try to ruin the day.”

“Oh, she showed up,” Mama says, casually.

“What? She did … ? What did you do to her?”

“You make it sound like I've got her tied up in the closet or something.”

“Mama, I know you—tell me.”

Mama gets that little smirk on her face as though she is up to something. “Well, first of all, I did not like the way she came strutting in here sounding like Eddie Haskell from
Leave It to Beaver …
‘Oh, hello, Mrs. Degulio, it's so nice to meet you—I can certainly see where Angelina gets her looks.'”

“And you said … ?”

“I said, ‘Angelina looks nothing like me.'”

“That's it?”

“
Mmm
… not quite.”

“
What else
?”

“I said, ‘Angelina looks like no one in our entire family. We look Italian. Angelina looks like the All-American golden girl, and from what I hear, you have a problem with that.'”

I should have known something like this would happen if I left Mama alone with her. “What did she say?”

“She looked all surprised and said, ‘But Mrs. Degulio, Angelina and I are good friends. I even invited her to my party.'”

“And you said … ?”

“Good friends,
my foot.
”

“You didn't.”

“I did. Then I suggested it would be in her best interest if she took that little-goody-two-shoes act of hers out the door and trotted along home.”

“That's it?”

“
Mmm
… almost.”

“Mama, what
else
?”

“Well … just something like, ‘If you ever mess with my kid again, you will be sorry you ever laid eyes on my Yankee face.'”

“Oh my gosh—you said
that
?”

“I most certainly did. Someone needs to get that girl under control. She finally stopped trying to snow me and just asked where the pond was. So I told her.”

“But she never showed up at the pond.”

“I didn't say which pond I sent her to, did I?”

“Mama!”

“She should be showing up at Pietro's pond any time now.”

“You sent her to
Pietro's
pond? That's two kilometers up the road!”

“Exactly. There are just as many kids skating over at that pond. I figured she could use the walk to cool off, and I didn't think you'd miss her company.”

Sometimes I just don't know what to think about Mama. She may have just saved my life, but I wonder if she made things better or worse for me by saying all that. I wonder what Annalisa will do when she realizes she's at the wrong pond. Ah, well, I'm not going to lose a lot of sleep worrying about it.