Rina Zante

Fiona's son had dropped me off just at the station. I needn't say much for Fiona to make that arrangement. My ruse was to see a relative of mine who'd kicked against my supposed relationship with Andrea. I wanted to patch things up.

My wishes had been granted—only that there was no relative, and here I was roaming around the streets of Villa-in-Pietra, a town four hours from Florence, with no hope of a place to lay my head, let alone food. And I was extremely hungry. Fiona had said Bologna was three hours away… I couldn't say. Maybe that was a slip of the tongue.

Villa-in-Pietra.

I...