Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics (4 page)

Claire found out what she meant. The toilet had a men’s room door and a women’s room door, but they both led to the same big room. Each side had an attendant who collected the coin, handed out a piece of toilet paper and ushered the patrons into one of the stalls. And the attendants, a man and a woman were carrying on a loud, seemingly amusing conversation the whole time. While it was perfectly private it seemed very strange to Claire.

“You survived, huh?” Ruth grinned at her when she joined them again.

Claire just shook her head, bemused by her experience before announcing, “I’m ready. Let’s see what this great market has for us.”

The market was wonderful. Most of the booths had canopies to protect the goods from sun or rain but others were just tables laid out to display the goods. Claire was especially taken with a selection of silk scarves.

“Look Ruth, these look just like the designer ones that cost a couple hundred dollars. Are they knock offs, stolen or what?”

“I don’t know, but they look great. Don’t pay more than ten dollars each, because I saw some over on the other aisle for that price.”

Claire, who had been about to close the deal, put the scarf back on the table to the disappointment of the vendor.

“You not like? Good deal. Only twenty dollar U.S. Silk, real silk.” She spread out the one Claire had especially liked, bargaining, “You like? Two for thirty-five dollars.”

Claire shook her head with regret.

“How much you pay?”

Millie spoke up, “Ten dollars each, U.S.”

The vendor looked shocked, then when she saw the determination in their faces and they started to turn toward the other aisle, she changed her price. “Okay,” she whispered, “but only for you. Ten dollar U.S. each. Okay?”

Claire nodded, relieved to be able to buy the ones she had already selected. She ended up getting five, not only were they a great buy but they were small enough to fit in her small suitcase. They would make perfect gifts.

And they couldn’t get by the leather goods section until Ruth had bought a purse. Millie purchased belts of fine Italian leather for the three Richman brothers, and Claire bought a beautiful pair of sandals for a fraction of what they would have cost at home. But while the wares were tempting and the prices reasonable, eventually they stopped buying only too aware of their limited luggage space.

They moved without speaking to a shaded table at a sidewalk café and ended up ordering large dishes of gelato (ice cream) instead of lunch. Two things they found were plentiful in Florence, coffee and gelato. There was no reason they shouldn’t treat themselves every day they told each other, but agreed they had to be disciplined so as to not do it several times a day.

“Did we miss siesta?” Claire asked checking her watch.

“Well, we may have missed Italy’s nap time, but mine is coming up soon. What say we head back for the hotel and a little quiet time before going out later this afternoon?” Ruth suggested. “I thought we might want to visit the Uffizi before we have dinner. It was closed yesterday and I have to see it. My goodness, that would be like visiting Paris and not going to the Louvre.

“My guidebook says if we call, we can make reservations with only a fifteen minute wait. If it’s all right with the two of you?” Ruth paused and then seeing their nods, went on. ”There’s a restaurant located very close to the museum which those people behind us this morning said was very good. Perhaps we could try it?”

Claire nodded. “I’m anxious to see the Uffizi. I’ve heard so much about the art there. But we need to decide what we’re going to see, because my brain goes numb when I’m in a museum more than an hour. I can’t even remember what I’ve seen after a while.”

Ruth nodded. “You’re right. I think my book recommends several of the rooms. When we get back to the hotel I’ll check it out.

“Is that Rick Steves’ book?”

Ruth nodded smiling. “Of course, my travel bookstore recommended it.”

“Okay, nap, reservations, plan on what to see and then dinner as a reward. That sounds good!” Millie checked each off on her fingers as they moved quickly toward their hotel, anxious for that rest.

“Well, I think we got it all.” Ruth looked again in the large armoire, checking the drawers along one side.

“Are you sure you don’t want to move into a smaller room? We could help you pack up.”

Claire shook her head at her mother’s suggestion. This was about the tenth time she had suggested it. She forced her tone to be calm, trying to eliminate any hint of her impatience at her mother’s repeated concern over keeping this big room. “Really, Mom, I’ll be fine here. I’m going to use that big bed you and Ruth shared and sleep right in the middle. It’s such a nice room. So big and airy, it somehow reminds me of the room in that Merchant and Ivory movie,
A Room with a View
. It’s perfect, really. And since you and Ruth have been paying for the room, I think I can afford to splurge on my last few days here.”

Her mother shook her head, obviously not convinced it was a wise decision. But she seemed to realize Claire wasn’t going to change her mind. “Now, you’ll be careful. Don’t talk to strangers. Watch out for those Italian men; they like to pinch.”

Claire and Ruth laughed as they said in unison, “Millie!”

“Mom!”

“Give it up Millie, Claire is all grown up. She can handle a few days on her own. And you see how safe it is. What kind of trouble could she get into?” Ruth was impatient with Millie’s insistent worries.

“What kind of trouble? You say that? And you know she was almost killed just doing you a favor. Have you forgotten that? The world if full of crazies and for some reason Claire just seems to attract them.”

Ruth was stricken by that reminder. Even after all this time she felt terribly guilty about the mess Claire had gotten into when she had gone to Ruth’s house in San Francisco to care for her cat while Ruth had been away.

“Come on, Mom. Look, now you’ve upset Ruth. That’s all in the past.” Claire took a deep breath and pasted a cheery smile on her face. “Come on the two of you, let’s go have a nice breakfast and forget all of that history.”

Millie nodded, and Ruth brightened at the thought of coffee. They left their bags by the door for the boy to bring down and headed for breakfast.

By the time they had traversed the large room to the little table available near the window, Claire felt that her mother had stopped to speak to everyone in the room.

“Mom, you’ve only been here five days. How do you know all these people?”

Millie waved brightly at a couple just coming through the door. “Well dear, we see them here for breakfast, in the elevators and even out on the streets. Everyone has been so kind about sharing their experiences at the different restaurants and museums.”

“And you know how your mother is, Claire. She’s never met a stranger, but she’ll worry herself to death thinking you might talk to one.”

Claire smiled. It was true; her mother was very social and made friends everywhere, even though she worried constantly about Claire doing the same thing. For some reason she thought she was such a good judge of character it was all right for her to be friendly. She spent most of her life in the same neighborhood, working at the same job and going to the same church, which had created a safe environment for her and her daughter. But here she was in Italy, acting just like she was in her own neighborhood. Claire looked at Ruth, her eyes reflecting her concern.

“Don’t worry, Claire. I’m watching out for her. So far, we haven’t run into the big bad wolf, even if we do get a pinch or two occasionally.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Claire, you’re always fussing about me worrying too much and here you are worrying about me. I’m sixty-three years old; I think I know how to take care of myself. You’re the one who is always getting into trouble.”

Fortunately the waiter interrupted them to take their breakfast order. While they had been warned that breakfast in Italy was usually a roll and strong coffee, this hotel catered to the English tourists and provided huge breakfasts to keep their clients happy. It was one more advantage to choosing this hotel besides the large airy rooms and its central location.

It wasn’t until they had finished eating and Ruth had gone to the desk to settle their account that Millie grabbed Claire’s hand, leaning over the table to whisper. “Claire, I want you to promise me that you’ll leave that Kristen thing alone.”

Claire jerked, startled and suddenly feeling guilty, because she realized she hadn’t really forgotten about Kristen.

“Really, Claire, it couldn’t have been her. And it’s just like you to get all involved in something that could cause problems.”

“Mom, I have a whole list of places to go and things to do while I’m here. I’ll be plenty busy. Don’t worry about me. And besides, how could I get in trouble about Kristen? She’s dead. As you said, it couldn’t have been her I saw.”

Her mother didn’t look quite satisfied.

“Mom, you just go learn to cook Italian goodies so I can look forward to you practicing them for me when we get home. Okay?”

Millie wasn’t sure it was okay, but what else could she do? Just then she saw Ruth wave at her from the doorway. “Oh, oh, I guess our ride is here.” They hurried to the front and followed the driver and their bags out the door.

There was a little confused flurry and then Claire was waving enthusiastically to them both, promising to call and laughing at her mother’s worried expression. She knew they were going to have a marvelous time.

She stood there until the van was out of sight and then with a feeling of excitement at her total independence, she turned back to her room to gather up her things. She was anxious to get out and about. Florence was hers and she wanted to explore.

Claire was transfixed by the Etruscan art in the Archeological Museum. She had seen some of these pieces before on slides shown in her Art History course at the university. Here were the bronzes, the decorated pottery and tomb sculptures which were the inspiration for many of the Renaissance works of art. It was hard to believe the Etruscans were so sophisticated, so advanced that they could produce these wonderful pieces and yet, disappear off the face of the earth. Who were they? What happened to them? It reminded her of the riddle of Stonehenge she encountered on her trip to England last year. That visit inspired her to delve into ancient English history. Now she knew she would have to expand her studies to the Continent.

She studied the map of the Etruscan digs and saw how close to Florence many of them were. Now she wished she had allocated some time to visit Orvieto which seemed to have produced the majority of the Etruscan findings. She would have loved to see where these pieces were actually found.

Reluctantly she decided she had absorbed as much as she could in one visit, so she left the museum to head for the next stop on her agenda.

The Duomo, the Cathedral in Florence was truly magnificent. Built of pink, white and green marble and set in a piazza in the busiest part of the city. Claire, of course, had already seen it. Actually several times, as she passed it whenever she went from her hotel toward the river Arno. Even so she had yet to visit its museum. And that is where the famous Ghiberti doors were housed. In San Francisco, Grace Cathedral sitting on top of Nob Hill had copies of those door made from casts of the originals. She had seen and admired them many times and now she was going to see the real thing. She wondered idly if she would see as big a difference between the copies and the originals of the doors as she noticed in Michelangelo’s
David
. She felt a small shiver of excitement. She hoped so.

As an American she still had trouble under-standing “old.” “Old,” such as the California Missions, was synonymous with simple or primitive. In the Americas “old” meant hundreds of years. Yet, here in Europe, they lived surrounded with art objects and buildings which were thousands of years old.

She remembered her awe when she saw the York Minster in England the previous year. It was unbelievable to her how people had the skills to build it more than a thousand years ago. And it was so grand. And it was still standing.

Millie and Ruth followed the young man carrying their luggage, heads swiveling, trying to see everything and still keep up with him.

His heavily accented English was quite understandable. “Check the Agenda in your package. Lunch will be served in there,” he nodded at a room off the entry, “at one o’clock. You have time to get settled before then.” He led them up the stairs and down a hall before he opened the door to a spacious room with windows overlooking the hills and a tiny balcony barely holding the two chairs. “Welcome to Villa Tuscany, Signoras. Please enjoy your stay with us.”

Villa Tuscany was even more beautiful than the brochure indicated. Perched on the top of one of the rolling hills, partially shaded by ancient, gnarled trees, it was built of stone that almost blended into the hillside except for the touches of red paint on the windows and doors. Everywhere there were urns and pots of flowers. Inside, the thick walls kept the heat out and the terra cotta tiles looked as cool as they felt. The furnishings were old but comfortable. Big overstuffed chairs and couches invited guests to sit and relax. Windows everywhere were open to the views of the countryside allowing the smell of grasses and the flowers to drift in as well as the occasional bee. The gardens and outdoor patios were invitingly furnished with chaises and benches, shaded with vine laden trellises and trees.