Love & Gelato (37 page)

When I came bursting into the visitors' center, Howard and Sonia looked up in alarm. They were both going through a stack of papers and Howard was wearing these tiny old-man reading glasses that made him look like a nearsighted lumberjack. I giggled.

He put his hand on his chest. “Lina! One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack.”

“Your glasses are so . . .”

“So what?” He drew himself up to his full height and I busted out laughing again.

“Just . . . ignore me. Listen, I really need some help. I'm going to a party tonight and I really need to look amazing. I think it's my best shot at winning Ren back. I need to find The Dress.”

He took his glasses off. “The one guaranteed to make anyone fall in love with you?”

“Yes! Exactly. Just like my mom had. Only hopefully I'll actually get to wear it and it will do its job.”

“The Dress?” Sonia asked, looking back and forth between us. “I'm sorry, but I'm not following.”

Howard turned to her. “Sonia, we'll have to close the cemetery early. Finding a new dress is probably pretty easy, but
The
Dress? It's going to take some time.” He winked at me. “And by the way, I remember catching a glimpse of your mother in her version of The Dress. I think I walked into a wall.”

Sonia shook her head. “I'm still a little unclear about what we're talking about here, but you know we can't close the cemetery. It's completely against regulations.”

“Fine, we won't close it. We'll abandon it for a few hours while the three of us take an emergency shopping trip into Florence.”

I bounced up and down. “Thank you! That would be really awesome!”

Sonia still didn't look convinced. “Howard, I'll just stay behind in case any visitors show up.”

He shook his head. “No, we're going to need you. You know I'll be completely useless when it comes to shopping. My closet is where things go to die. We need a woman's opinion.”

She shuddered. “Your taste is pretty bad. Remember when I made you get rid of that horrible pair of corduroys? They were sprouting
hairs
.”

I clasped my hands in front of my chest. “Please, Sonia. I don't even know where dress stores are, and I'm going to need all the help I can get. I have to look incredible tonight. Will you help me?”

She looked back and forth between Howard and me, then shook her head. “I think you've lost your minds. But all right. Pick me up at my house.”

“Yes!” Howard and I high-fived. Then I waited outside while he closed up the visitors' center and we both jogged up the path to the house.

On the way into Florence, Howard and I filled Sonia in on our status as not related-sort of related.

She looked shocked. “You're telling me you're not actually father and daughter?”

“Not technically,” I said.

“And, Howard, you've known all along?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, then started fanning herself with her wallet. “Only in Italy.”

Howard looked at her. “And, Sonia, in the future please don't redirect any of my deliveries. Although in this case I think it worked out okay.”

“Cross my heart. I'll never do anything like that again.” She turned around so she was facing me. “What time does Ren pick you up?”

“At nine. But I'm not going with Ren. I'm going with Thomas.”

“Oh. But I thought that you and Ren . . .” She trailed off.

“You thought me and Ren what?”

Howard glanced at Sonia, then met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “You know how in English we say that people wear their hearts on their sleeves? Well, in Italian, you say
‘avere il cuore in mano.'
You hold your heart in your hand. Every time Ren looks at you I think of that saying. He's crazy about you.”

“No, he isn't.”

Sonia chimed in. “Of course he is. And you can't blame him. Look at you. The poor thing can't help himself.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“He does?” Howard asked.

I nodded.

“Well, how do you feel about him?”

They both looked at me and I managed to stay quiet for about three seconds before blowing like a volcano.

“Fine. I'm in love with him. I'm completely in love with Ren. Besides Addie, he's the only person I've ever been around who makes me feel normal, and he's hilarious and weird and he has a gap between his front teeth that I love. But none of that matters because he has a girlfriend, and yesterday I must have had a momentary lapse in sanity, because I kissed him and it totally freaked him out. Also, his girlfriend looks straight out of a fashion magazine and whenever Ren sees
me
I'm either sweaty or crying. So now I'm dressing up and going to a party in hopes that I'll get his attention long enough for him to at least talk to me, so I can tell him how I really feel and try to at least salvage our friendship. So there.
That's
how I feel about Ren.”

Howard and Sonia both looked stunned.

I slumped back in my seat. “That's why I need the perfect dress.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Sonia turned to Howard. “Is money an object?”

“No.”

“Then turn left. I know where we need to go.”

Howard drove us straight to a dress shop near the center of the city, and after we'd parked, all three of us got out and ran the three blocks from the parking center. When we burst into the shop, the woman behind the counter looked up in alarm.

“Cos'è successo?”

“Stiamo cercando il vestito più bello nel mondo.”
He turned to me. “She needs
The
Dress.”

The woman studied us for a moment, then clapped her hands. “Adalina! Sara!
Venite qui.”

Two women emerged from the back room, and after going through the same exchange with Howard, they pulled out their tape measures and started measuring my waist and butt and bust and . . . yeah. It was pretty embarrassing.

Finally they started grabbing dresses from all over the store, then hustled me over to a dressing room and stuffed me and the dresses inside. I wriggled out of my running clothes and pulled the first one over my head. It was cotton-candy pink and reminded me of the time I'd thrown up on a Ferris wheel. The second one was yellow and feathery and looked suspiciously like Big Bird's carcass. The third wasn't terrible, but the straps were so big they hovered a full inch above my shoulders, and the party was tonight—I couldn't just take it to a tailor for alterations. I looked at myself sternly in the mirror.
Don't panic.
But my hair panicked anyway. Or maybe that was just how it always looked.

“How's it going?” Sonia called from outside.

“Nothing yet.”

“Try this one.” She tossed another one over the door and I quickly changed into it. White and poofy. I looked exactly like a marshmallow. On her wedding day.

“Oh, no,” I wailed. “None of these are right. What if I can't find it?”

“I brought you to this place for a reason. Let me see if the shopkeeper's oldest daughter is around. She's a dress genie. Be right back.”

I stepped up to the mirror and looked at myself again. Not only did I not look forgivable, but I looked ridiculous. There was no way I was going to win Ren back looking like something I roasted at Girl Scout camp.

“Lina?” Sonia knocked on the door. Then the door opened and she and another woman stepped in.

The woman was in her late thirties and had her hair pulled up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it. She looked like she meant business. She gestured for me to spin around.

“No
. Tutto sbagliato
.”

“
D'accordo
,” Sonia said. “She says this one is all wrong.”

“Will you ask her to find me one that's all right?”

“Don't worry. It's what she's good at. Let her work.”

The woman stepped forward, cupping my chin in her hands. She turned my face back and forth, studying my features, then stepped back and motioned for me to do another spin. Finally she nodded and held up her hand. “
Ho il vestito perfetto.
Wait.”

When she came back she was holding a pinkish-nude-colored dress with embellished lace all over the top and a short flowy skirt. I took it from her, holding it up in front of me.

“This one?” I asked.

“Yes. Thees one,” she said firmly. She stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

I took off the marshmallow dress and eased the new one over my head. The fabric was smooth and silky-feeling, and it slipped easily over my chest and hips, landing in the exact right spot.

I didn't even have to look in the mirror to know that it was the one.

By the time Thomas pulled up in his dad's car—a silver BMW convertible—I had managed to completely transform myself. Sonia had helped me style my hair so it fell in soft un-Medusa-ish curls, and had loaned me a pair of heels and diamond stud earrings. I'd put on makeup and perfume and had practiced my speech to Ren over and over.
Ren, I have something to tell you.
When I looked in the mirror I almost did a double take. I couldn't believe how Italian I looked.

“He's here,” Howard yelled from downstairs.

“Coming!” I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, then teetered down the stairs. Sonia's high heels were really gorgeous but
crazy
high. I miraculously made it to the bottom of the stairs without performing any sort of involuntary gymnastics, and when I looked up, Howard was giving me this misty look.

“You look beautiful. I don't care what Ren's girlfriend looks like. She doesn't stand a chance.”

“That would be nice. But I'll be happy if he just talks to me again.”

“I'm betting on the former.”

There was a knock on the door and Howard crossed the room to open it. “Hello. Are you Thomas?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

I clattered over to the doorway.

“Woah! Lina, you look . . .” Thomas's jaw literally dropped. But then he noticed Howard looking at him like he was a deer during hunting season and he quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry. Nice dress. You look really pretty.”

“You look nice too.” Gray fitted suit. Hair styled messily. I could practically hear Addie spontaneously combusting from here.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Ready.” I walked over and gave Howard a hug. “How long can I stay out?”

“As long as you want. Well, within reason.” He winked at me. “It's going to work out.”

“Thanks.”

I followed Thomas out to his car and he opened the door for me. “You really do look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

“What did your dad mean by ‘it's going to work out'?”

“Uh, I'm not sure.” I glanced at my phone for about the millionth time. All afternoon I'd been hoping Ren would call. And all afternoon he'd kept
not calling
.

Thomas got in the front seat and put the keys in the ignition. “Nice car, right?”

“Really nice.”

“My dad has a Lamborghini, too. He told me if I have a clean driving record for a year I can take it out sometime.”

“Too bad it's not tonight.”

“I know, right?” He backed carefully out of the driveway, then took off down the road. “Did you know you have to be eighteen to drive a car in Italy? I think I'm the only one at our school who even has a license.”

“Ren will get one next year.”

“But he's only a junior.”

“He'll be eighteen in March.”

“Oh.” He pulled out onto the road and accelerated, turning up the music too loud to talk.

I'm sure riding through the Italian countryside in a luxury convertible with a young 007 should have been a magical experience, but it was lost on me. I was too busy mentally rehearsing what I was going to say to Ren. And trying to keep young 007's hands off me.