He yawned. “Okay, let’s see… how will the story play out on
“I love the fanny pack.” She threw the Panda into gear.
“What about the sandals and white socks?”
“A retro fashion statement.”
“Excellent.” He squinted, then fumbled with the zipper on the pack. She wondered how someone so tall fitted into a Maserati.
“What were you doing in the shrubbery?”
He stuck on a pair of clunky black sunglasses. “There’s a bench back there. I was taking a nap.” Despite his complaining, he looked healthy and rested. “Nice hair this morning. Where did the curls come from?”
“A sudden and mysterious electrical failure that rendered my hair dryer ineffective. Thanks for the hot water. Now may I have my electricity back?”
“You don’t have electricity?”
“Strangest thing.”
“It could be accidental. Anna said they’ve had water problems at the farmhouse all summer, which is why they need to dig.”
“And why she told you I have to move to town.”
“I believe she mentioned it. Dump the hat, will you?”
“Not a chance.”
“It’ll draw too much attention to us. Besides, I like those curls.”
“Be still, my heart.”
“You don’t like curls?”
“I don’t like messiness.” She gave his clothes a telling glance.
“Ah.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just ‘ah.’ ”
“Keep your ‘ahs’ to yourself so I can enjoy the scenery.”
“Be glad to.”
It was a beautiful day. Hills stretched to the horizon on either side of the road. Oblong bales of wheat sat in one field. A tractor moved through another. They passed acres of sunflowers drying in the sun but not yet plowed under. She would’ve loved to see them in bloom, but then she would’ve missed the sight of the grapes ready for harvest.
“My friends call me Ren,” he said, “but today I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Buddy.”
“That’s gonna happen.”
“Or Ralph. Ralph Smitts from Ashtabula, Ohio. It has a certain ring to it. If you have to wear a hat, I’ll buy you something a little less eye-catching when we get there.”
“No thanks.”
“You’re one uptight chick, Dr. Favor. Is that a building block of your philosophy? ‘Thou shalt be the most uptight chick on the planet’?”
“I’m principled, not uptight.” Just saying it made her feel stuffy, and she wasn’t stuffy, not really, not in her heart anyway. “What do you know about my philosophy?”
“Nothing until I got on the Web last night. Interesting. From what I read in your bio, you built your empire the hard way. I’ve got to hand it to you. Nobody seems to have given you anything for free.”
“Oh, I got a lot for free.” She thought of all the people who’d inspired her over the years. Whenever she’d reached a low point in her life, the universe had always sent her an angel in one form or another.
Her foot slipped off the accelerator.
“Hey.”
“Sorry.”
“Either pay attention to the road or let me drive,” he grumbled. “Which you should have done in the first place, because I’m the man.”
“I noticed.” She gripped the wheel more tightly. “I’m sure my life story is boring compared to yours. Didn’t I read that your mother’s royalty?”
“A countess. One of those meaningless Italian titles. Mainly she was an irresponsible international playgirl with too much money. She’s dead now.”
“I’ve always been fascinated with the influences of childhood. Do you mind an intrusive question?”
“You want to know what it was like growing up with a mother who had the maturity level of a twelve-year-old pothead? I’m touched by your interest.”
She’d imagined herself staying aloof today instead of chatting away. Still, what else could he do to her? “Professional curiosity only, so don’t get sentimental on me.”
“Let’s see, maternal influence… I can’t remember the first time I got drunk, but it was around the time I grew tall enough to pick up the liquor glasses her party guests left around.” She didn’t hear any bitterness, but it had to be lurking around in there somewhere. “I smoked my first joint when I was ten, and a lot more after that. I’d seen a few dozen porn films before I was twelve, and don’t think that doesn’t screw up your adolescent sexual expectations. In and out of boarding schools all along the East Coast. Totaled more cars than I can count. Arrested for shoplifting twice, which was ironic because I had a fat trust fund and way too much disposable income for a snot-nosed punk. But, hey, anything to get attention. Oh… snorted my first line of coke when I was fifteen. Ah, the good old days.”
A lot of pain hid behind his chuckle, but he wasn’t going to let her see a bit of it. “What about your father?” she asked.
“Wall Street. Very respectable. He still goes to work every day. The second time around he made sure he married more responsibly-a blueblood who wisely kept me as far away as possible from their three kids. One of them’s a decent guy. We see each other occasionally.”
“Did any angels show up in your childhood?”
“Angels?”
“A benevolent presence.”
“My
As it was, he seemed to have made his own kind of creative prison, playing only villainous parts, maybe to reflect his self-image. Or maybe not. Psychologists had a bad habit of oversimplifying people’s motivations.
“What about you?” he asked. “Your biography said you’ve been on your own since you were eighteen. Sounds tough.”
“It built character.”
“You’ve come a long way.”
“Not far enough. I’m currently broke.” She reached for her sunglasses, hoping to deflect the conversation.
“Worse things can happen than being broke,” he said.
“I’m guessing you’re not speaking from personal experience.”
“Hey, when I was eighteen, the interest check from my trust fund was lost in the mail. It got pretty ugly.”
She’d always been a sucker for self-deprecating humor, and she smiled, even though she didn’t want to.
Half an hour later they reached the outskirts of Volterra, where a castle of forbidding gray stone appeared on the hill above them. Finally a safe topic of conversation. “That must be the
“Been reading our guidebook, have we?”
“Several of them.” They passed an Esso station and a tidy little house with a satellite dish perched above its red roof tiles. “Somehow I’d pictured the Etruscans as cavemen with clubs, but this was a fairly advanced civilization. They had a lot in common with the Greeks. They were merchants, seafarers, farmers, craftsmen. They mined copper and smelted iron ore. And their women were surprisingly liberated for the time.”
