The corners of Headmistress Green’s lips tilted upwards, but her stern grey eyes remained unconvinced. “I’m pleased to hear that. Too often, divorce can lead to decreased involvement by one of the parents. But in these cases, it’s our experience that two parents working in partnership can turn a situation like this around.”
She stood, signaling the end of the meeting. Emma scrambled to her feet.
“I hope to hand Chiara her diploma on graduation day. Don’t hesitate to call me if you or Doctor Rinaldi have any concerns you wish to discuss.”
Just shake hands with the woman and make it to the door without crying.
She followed Mrs. Green to the door, her Prada heels clicking with each uncertain step. She blinked rapidly, a desperate attempt to stave off the tears. She offered a weak smile to Mrs. Green at the door, and another to the receptionist, before exiting the office and walking out of the building.
The fresh air calmed her. It was a glorious autumn day, unseasonably sunny and warm for mid-October. The tourists were still wandering around the city’s historical center in shorts and tank-tops, wondering at the tropical temperatures compared to Stockholm, or London, or Hamburg. Usually, Emma was pleased to visit this campus, with its lush green yard and rolling hills, always finding it hard to believe this peaceful countryside was still, technically, a part of Rome. But today being on campus afforded her no pleasure.
She hurried down the hill to the entrance gate as fast as her fashionable but impractical heels would carry her. Please don’t let me bump into Chiara or the twins. She kept her head low, as if that could mask her identity should her children cross her path on campus, on their way to lunch or gym class.
“Emma! Why, it’s been ages!” A voice rang out when she’d nearly reached the school gate.
Emma turned on her heel to see a woman she knew had been one of Dario’s patients on more than one occasion. Her nose had been redone, her lips plumped, and cheek implants strained against artificially tight flesh.
“Margherita! What a pleasant surprise.” Emma stepped forward and kissed the woman on each silicone cheek. “It’s been ages. My fault. I need to contact you to see when I can help out with PTO activities. Isn’t the international luncheon coming up?”
Margherita waved her hand, attempting a smile on skin that was no longer elastic. “Oh, that. We all do what we can. I know how hard it’s been for you, what with …” she lowered her voice. “The divorce.”
The horrified expression accompanying her words would have been equally suitable for “your drug conviction” or “the mafia killings you ordered.”
Divorce was surprisingly rare at the Fairmont School, as Emma was quickly learning. “Oh, it’s fine. I forget about it half the time.” Dragon Lady didn’t need to know the truth.
Margherita sighed. “But still, so tragic. I always thought you were such a perfect couple. Although, I must admit,” she chuckled. “I never would have pegged you for a plastic surgeon’s wife. Although that was always part of Dario’s charm. He’s known for creating perfection on his patients, but never demanding it from his own wife.”
A steady throbbing began behind Emma’s right temple. “I’m over it, really. Thank you for your concern.”
“I’m sure you are, my dear. Especially if Dario could … sweeten the pot, shall we say, with his departure. It’s important we hold them to their financial obligations, eh?” She winked. “But still, it’s a shame for Chiara. Lucrezia tells me how upset she is, how she always complains the divorce ruined her life.” She shook her head. “You know how dramatic teenagers can be.” Margherita stood, expectantly, her head tilted.
Emma silently counted to five. “Thanks for your concern. It was tough for Chiara at first, but I think she’s starting to accept it.”
Margherita’s lips formed a dainty little ‘o’. “That’s not what I heard. But I’m always behind on these things. How nice that everything is going swimmingly, and I’ve been misinformed.” There was a hard glint in her eyes. “Let’s be in touch for the international luncheon. Bye, Emma dear.” With quick kisses on the cheek, she turned on her heels and made her way up the slope to the school.
Emma watched the receding figure, her head still spinning. A double whammy of Mrs. Green and Margherita. Surely, things couldn’t get any worse.
Excerpt 2
The doorbell rang. Gently, Tiffany placed the shoes down and made her way to the door. After peering through the peephole, she smiled and flung open the door.
“Ciao bello. Come stai oggi?”
Simone’s eyes examined her from head to toe. Grasping her by the shoulder, he spun her gently around. “Wow, much better after seeing you. Good thing I never have students like you in my classes. Too distracting.”
She tapped him on the chest. “You’re such a tease. You didn’t even see me in my heels. I’ll knock before I go out.”
There was a spark in his hazel eyes. “Where are you going, dressed to kill? Out to break more hearts?”
She sighed. “I wish. I’m going to a party. The producer of a show I’m auditioning for will be there. I have to make a good impression.”
Simone raised an eyebrow. “Dressed like that, how could you not?” He reached for her hand. “It sounds to me like you need a good, home-cooked meal to strengthen you before the attack.”
Tiffany groaned. “Not again. I had to hold my breath to squeeze into this dress. Your cooking will bust the seams.”
“There’s nothing to you, Tiffany. I may not watch those shows, but I am an Italian male. I don’t think skeletal frames are any man’s ideal. Just a little. I promise not to force-feed you.” He smiled, setting off the crinkles around his eyes.
Tiffany could never resist Simone. He was like a big puppy dog. And since they’d been neighbors, he was more like a brother to her than her own brother had ever been. “Okay, you win. Lead the way.”
She allowed herself to be nudged next door. She’d been so many times to this apartment, a mirror image of her own, but so much more grown up. Good quality furniture, overflowing floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fully equipped kitchen that Simone actually used on a daily basis. When Simone returned from the high school biology classes he taught, he went for a jog, then got to work in the kitchen. Heavenly aromas wafted from under his door every evening when she returned, while Tiffany wondered if she had enough lettuce left over in the fridge for a salad.
“I still haven’t gotten used to cooking for one.” He pulled a hot bakery tray from the oven.
Tiffany waited until he’d turned. “How’s Ramona? Have you spoken to her?” She knew Simone didn’t want to talk about it, while still wanting desperately to talk about it.
He turned his back to her again, placing bread slowly onto a plate. “She likes Chicago. She prefers e-mailing to calling or Skyping, says the sound of my voice makes her nostalgic. Makes her weaken her resolve about our deal.” His shoulders slouched.
Tiffany held back rather than slipping comforting arms around him.
“I hate how she calls it ‘our’ deal, when she’s the one who wanted to go to Chicago, free from all ties. I was willing to wait for her.”
Tiffany heard a sigh, but when Simone turned around he was smiling. She suspected his acting skills were far more developed than her own.
He placed the serving plate on the table with a flourish. “Crusty, homemade French bread, with melted gorgonzola and hazelnuts.”
“You’re freaking kidding me. You even bake your own bread?”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He slapped her hand playfully. “No profanity at this dinner table, Signorina Walker.”
“Oh, please.” Tiffany held up a steaming piece of baguette, smelling the melted gorgonzola. “Your English is so damned perfect and precise. You need to shake it up a bit, make it a bit more colorful.” She grinned. “That’s where I come in.”
“So you see? I lucked out with my choice of neighbor.”
“Ha!” Tiffany swallowed a bite. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. Where else could we afford to live on two teacher’s salaries? A penthouse on Piazza di Spagna?”
Simone’s face clouded over. “Ramona’s company pays for some luxurious condo.”
He made a face and the word, on his lips, sounded vulgar.
“It overlooks Lake Michigan and the skyline. It has a gym and a twenty-four hour doorman.” He allowed his voice to grow soft. “She’s not coming back.”
Tiffany sighed and placed her hand over Simone’s. His hazel eyes looked so vulnerable. A lock of his thick, dark hair fell over his eyes, and she longed to brush it away. “No, she isn’t, Simone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
His voice sounded heartbreakingly sad. For the second time, Tiffany fought the urge to embrace him. “You need to get over her. There must be some gorgeous colleague at work. Cook her dinner and she’ll swoon.” She stroked his arm. “I can’t think of a better boyfriend than you.”
His gaze met hers. “Ramona didn’t think so. She couldn’t sprint away fast enough.”
“Ramona doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
One side of his mouth twitched up. “Then why aren’t you jumping me when you have the chance? I’m lonely and vulnerable.”
“I would, but I’m vain and shallow. I need a man in show business, with a fancy car and a yacht. Someone who’ll have the contacts to get me on TV.” She shrugged. “A high school biology teacher—no matter how sexy and adept in the kitchen he is—just won’t cut it.”
Simone laughed. “Fair enough. You’re more honest than my girlfriend. I mean, my ex.” He poured wine into her glass. The oven timer went off. “The lasagna is ready.”
I wanted to write a multi-character story, told though the perspective of three women thrown together by circumstance, who gradually become friends and learn to lean on one another to improve their lives. Emma, Tiffany and Annarita are three very different American expatriates living in Rome, Italy. As the novel opens, each is facing seemingly daunting challenges that find each woman at the breaking point.
Realizing the need to get away and regroup, each woman finds her way to a seaside resort close to Rome, thinking this will be an opportunity to retreat, reflect and return stronger.
Of course, November is a dead period for these seaside resorts and these women are the only tourists in town. They meet at their hotel at a 1950s movie night, featuring the classic Hollywood film “Three Coins in The Fountain”. I thought it would be fun to revisit this 1954 tale in modern Italy, with three American women seeking happiness, love and fulfilling lives in the Eternal City.
I loved writing my contemporary women’s fiction, Three Coins, but generally I write more historical fiction. I have my next two historical fiction novels scheduled for next year. My second novel, Dark Blue Waves (the title is a line in a poem by Lord Byron) is a time slip story that will be released in April 2022.
Janet Roberts is a young American woman studying nineteenth-century English literature, who can’t believe her good fortune when she’s accepted into a Jane Austen graduate seminar in Bath, England. She settles in among fellow seminar colleagues, content to live, eat and breathe Jane Austen.
Suffering an accident, Janet regains consciousness in her own room—back in Regency England. While desperately attempting to make sense of her dilemma, Janet treads a thin line between trying to blend into her new world and not being unmasked as the imposter she is.
This was great fun to write. I adore nineteenth-century literature and history, and I absolutely loved writing about a character familiar with the period, who should know better, but still manages to constantly get herself into trouble in her new world. There’s a lot for her to reflect upon in her new (old) world: friendship, customs, love, the role of women in the past, but in the end, it’s very much a story that recognizes how similar lives, hopes and dreams are – even across centuries. And there’s a pretty compelling love story, too.
My third novel is a dual timeline contemporary/historical novel set in Abruzzo, Italy, a mountainous region east of Rome. My historical timeline is set during WWI, a time of devastation and rapid change for the region. This novel is currently in editing and planned for release in autumn 2022.
Thank you so much for hosting my novel on your site. So grateful to be here, and wishing you Season's Greetings!
ReplyDelete