Rome in Love (8 page)

“If I ate that for breakfast, my costume designer would faint.” Amelia giggled.

“I have my mother’s metabolism; she could eat cake every night and never gain an ounce.” Sophie’s face clouded over. She walked to the balcony and hugged her arms around her chest. “We’re going to the orphanage, you have to come.”

“Come where?” Amelia asked.

“Theo calls me every day,” Sophie replied. “I keep telling him I’m working but he says no one works that much in Italy. The orphanage is in a village named Toffia an hour from Rome. It has an olive tree that is more than two thousand years old.”

Amelia pictured driving through the Italian countryside, stopping to drink a cold limoncello. She saw walled towns and abandoned castles and rows of vineyards.

“I should stay and practice my lines.” Amelia hesitated.

“You can’t sit inside on such a beautiful day,” Sophie insisted. “Theo says the nuns grow their own vegetables. We’re going to eat pizza with porcini mushrooms and sliced heirloom tomatoes.”

Amelia joined Sophie at the window and gazed down at the streets of Rome. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere, to a cozy restaurant or a museum or a lush green park. She saw couples walking hand in hand and mothers pushing strollers. She walked into the bedroom and opened her closet.

She turned to Sophie and smiled. “What does one wear to visit a convent?”

*   *   *

Amelia sat in the back of Theo’s green Fiat and held her scarf against her head. She wore white capris and a red cotton sweater and dark sunglasses. She gazed at the sweeping vistas of vineyards and olive trees and felt her chest expand. It was so beautiful: the red and yellow villages perched on hilltops, the castles wrapped in stone walls, the little towns that were nothing more than a post office and a butcher and a souvenir shop filled with postcards and bottles of olive oil.

“Most of the castles date back to the eleventh century,” Theo said as they wound up a steep incline. “All the inhabitants lived within the castle walls and spent their days working in the fields. They could spy intruders from miles away.”

“I love castles.” Sophie sighed, pressing her face against the window. “My favorite is Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria. It was built for Prince Ludwig II and it’s the inspiration for the castle in
Sleeping Beauty
.”

“You’ve been to Neuschwanstein Castle?” Theo turned to Sophie. He wore a yellow button-up shirt and blue jeans and leather sandals. His arms were covered with blond hair and he wore a silver watch on his wrist.

“I led a few tours there.” Sophie blushed. “They get a million visitors a year.”

Theo drove down a gravel drive and stopped in front of a stone building with small lead windows. There was a vegetable garden and a chicken coop and a goat. A wooden door opened and a dozen little girls tumbled into the driveway. They wrapped their arms around Theo’s legs, laughing and shrieking.

“Americano Medico!” a girl with brown pigtails exclaimed. “Where is my chocolate? I fed a piece to Palo last week and he threw up. Sister Lea got so angry she took away the whole chocolate bar.”

“I told you not to feed chocolate to the goat.” Theo laughed, picking the girl up and spinning her around.

“I want to spin, I want to spin,” a small girl with blond curls pleaded. She wore a plain cotton smock and woven sandals.

“We will have chocolate and play games but first we have to complete our work.” Theo took his leather bag out of the car and opened Sophie and Amelia’s door.

Amelia stepped out of the car and breathed lilacs and lemons. She bent down and shook hands with the blond girl. “My name is Ann, it is a great pleasure to meet you.”

Sister Lea ushered them into a small parlor with stained glass windows. There was a brown sofa and a threadbare rug over a wood floor. A sideboard held a metal cross and a vase filled with daisies and violets.

Theo placed a cloth on the sideboard and set it with a selection of needles and a box of Band-Aids. He rolled up his sleeves and looked expectantly at the little girls. “Who’s my first customer?”

“Anastasia has a stomachache and a fever.” A thin redhead approached Theo, handing him a doll with pigtails. “I told her she must be brave and take her medicine.”

Theo carefully took the doll and stuck the needle in its arm. He covered the spot with a Band-Aid and solemnly handed it back to the redhead.

“What is he doing?” Amelia whispered to Sophie.

“The children are terrified of getting their shots,” Sophie explained. “He vaccinates their dolls and they’re not afraid when it’s their turn.”

Theo put away his leather bag and they moved into the dining hall for lunch. The nuns served butter lettuce with red peppers and baby peas and sliced cucumber. There was a flat pizza topped with tomato sauce and mushrooms and salami. They ate fresh peaches and ripe plums for dessert and Theo handed out pieces of milk chocolate.

*   *   *

“They’re lucky to have you,” Amelia said as they walked into the garden to watch the children play games.

“I’m the lucky one.” Theo held the end of a jump rope. “I help erase their fears.”

“Their fears?” Amelia asked.

“Orphans don’t know where they are from or who their parents are so they’re afraid of everything. If I can help conquer their fears—this pill will make your fever go away, this one will fix your sore throat—they’ll have more confidence.”

“I never thought about medicine that way,” Amelia mused.

“Anyone can fix broken bones; it’s like building Legos.” Theo shrugged. “The real joy of being a doctor is making a difference in their hearts.”

Amelia was about to reply when a little girl ran onto the playground. Her eyes were wide and her mouth quivered.

“Americano Medico, come quickly! The pretty lady fainted.”

Amelia glanced around and saw Sophie wasn’t in the garden. She raced after Theo through the kitchen and into the pantry. She saw Sophie lying crumpled on the stone floor. Her lips were blue and her breathing was loud and jagged.

Theo bent down and gathered Sophie in his arms. He pressed his lips against hers and blew softly into her mouth. He kept blowing until her cheeks turned pink and the air flowed easily through her lungs.

Sophie’s eyes flickered and she made a faint mewing sound. She tried to sit up but she slipped back onto the floor. Theo crouched beside her and gently squeezed her hand. She leaned against him, taking slow, deep breaths.

“What happened?” Theo asked, helping her to her feet.

“Gloria wanted to play hide-and-seek so I hid in the pantry,” Sophie explained, smoothing her hair. “I’m sorry I gave you a scare. It’s my asthma, it acts up when I’m in small spaces.”

“Let’s go outside where I can keep an eye on you.” Theo grinned, taking Sophie’s hand. “You can do something safe like choose the winner of the jump rope contest.”

*   *   *

“When I get married I want six children.” Sophie sighed, sipping a glass of red wine. “I’m going to be like Julie Andrews in the
Sound of Music
.”

They sat at an outdoor café in Casperia, eating ravioli with ricotta and spinach. It was early evening and the sun set behind the Sabine Hills. Amelia watched the fields turn purple and the hilltop villages disappear into the mist.

“You’ll need a big house and garden.” Theo smiled, pouring olive oil onto a plate. “When I was growing up, we weren’t allowed inside during the summer until sunset.”

Amelia toyed with her ravioli and gazed at Theo and Sophie. Ever since they left the convent, Sophie had been more animated. She listened closely when Theo talked, laughing and waving her hand. Theo’s arm brushed Sophie’s sleeve and Sophie’s cheeks turned pink.

She saw Sophie smile at something Theo said and suddenly felt lonely. She pictured the master bedroom of the Villa Medici Suite with its king-sized four-poster bed. She saw Whit standing on the balcony and gazing at the bright lights of the Colosseum. She remembered him pulling her toward him and kissing her on the lips.

“You haven’t tried the ravioli.” Sophie turned to Amelia. “It’s a local specialty.”

Amelia pushed away the plate and gulped her glass of wine. She had to stop thinking about Whit. She took a deep breath and pictured Sheldon and the movie set and the pink Balenciaga ball gown.

“It’s delicious, I’m just not hungry.”

Theo dropped them off at the Hassler and Sophie suggested they go to Harry’s Bar or the rooftop restaurant at the St. Regis. Amelia mumbled that she had an early call and had to go to bed. She crossed the lobby and saw a man standing at the reception desk. He had dark brown hair and dark eyes and a slightly crooked nose. He wore a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and carried a black leather briefcase.

Amelia darted behind a column and watched the man hand the concierge a letter. The concierge shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The man pressed a gold coin in his hand and turned to leave. Amelia watched him stride across the marble floor and disappear into the street.

“Excuse me.” Amelia approached the concierge.

“Miss Tate!” the concierge beamed. “It is a pleasure to see you, how can I help you?”

“That man.” Amelia frowned. “What was he doing here?”

“He is not a guest, he wanted me to deliver a letter.”

“A letter,” Amelia repeated. “To whom?”

“It is no concern of Miss Tate’s,” the concierge replied. “Can I get you a magazine or a cup of our excellent espresso? Would you like more roses delivered to your room or a selection of soaps and lotions?”

“I don’t need any of those things, Ernesto.” Amelia glanced at the concierge’s name tag. “But I would love to know who the letter was for.”

“I cannot divulge that.” Ernesto shook his head, studying his computer screen.

Amelia’s face broke into a small smile. “Please, I won’t tell a soul.”

The concierge fiddled with the envelope, breathing in Amelia’s perfume. “He said it was for a maid, but we don’t have a maid named Ann Prentiss.”

“Could I borrow it for a little while? I promise I’ll bring it back.”

“Signor Black would not be happy with me.” Ernesto hesitated.

“It will be our secret.” Amelia leaned forward. “I’m good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

“Very good,” the concierge relented. He pressed the envelope into Amelia’s hand and turned back to his computer.

“You are so kind,” Amelia beamed, slipping the envelope in her purse.

She entered the elevator and pressed the button. What if Philip knew she was really Amelia Tate and was going to expose her? What if he wrote an article saying she got drunk and went to his apartment? Amelia imagined the newspaper headline and her cheeks turned pale. She fumbled with her room key and opened the door.

Amelia entered the living room and glanced at the oval dining room table. She saw the crystal vase of yellow roses and the silver tray of tea and scones and pots of strawberry jam. She glanced at the neat pile of newspapers and shuddered.

She perched on a blue satin love seat and opened the envelope. She unfolded the white paper and read out loud.

Dear Miss Prentiss,

I hope you are well and have not run into any rain showers or fallen into any national monuments. I thought of you this morning while I was making breakfast. I haven’t met anyone in Rome who enjoys bacon as much as you do.

I have two tickets to an outdoor concert at Hadrian’s Villa and wondered if you might like to take a friend. I received them as payment for an article I wrote and I will be out of town on the date.

I’m sure the Hassler pays you handsomely and I know the guests like to tip you with vintage champagne, but honestly, I can’t think of anyone else to give them to.

There are no strings attached and you don’t need to reply. I just don’t like to picture you working so hard, without enjoying yourself. After all you are in Rome, and the Italians believe strongly in la dolce vita.

Yours Truly,

Philip Hamilton

Amelia gazed at his scrawled signature and thought it would be lovely to sit on a cashmere blanket under the stars. It would be lovely to listen to classical music and eat baguettes and salami and Camembert. But she couldn’t risk having any contact with Philip. If he discovered she was Amelia Tate he’d plaster her name across the front page of
Le Repubblica
.

She walked into the bedroom and placed the letter on the Regency desk. She would write him a polite note thanking him but saying she couldn’t take time off work. She opened the drawer and took out a piece of ivory writing paper. She put her hand in farther, searching for a pen.

She heard a click and the back of the desk seemed to fall away. She reached in and suddenly felt a stack of papers. She carefully removed them and walked over to the Tiffany lamp.

She peered closely and saw yellowed writing paper covered with flowery cursive. They were tied with a white ribbon and covered with dust. She gently untied the ribbon and glanced at the date. Her eyes grew wide and she sucked in her breath. She sat on the velvet chair and read out loud.

June 1, 1952

Dear Kitty,

We finished our first day on the set and it was a disaster! How could I possibly think I could be a movie star? The cameras are huge and the set is so crowded I couldn’t breathe. Everywhere you turn there is someone wanting to smooth your dress or fix your hair or reapply your makeup. I felt like one of poor Madame Rambert’s dogs when it returned from the beauty parlor.

I wish we were still together in Madame Rambert’s ballet school. It was so easy to concentrate on my pas de deux and arabesques and jettes. I know Mr. Wyler thinks my accent is terrible, I can tell when he crosses his arms and yells: “Cut, let’s try that again.”

Oh, Kitty! I must be mad. It was all right doing
Gigi
on Broadway, that was like performing in Baroness Ella’s living room. In the theater you can hear your audience breathe, it’s like being part of a club. But to picture my face on a screen in front of thousands of people makes me feel faint.