My hotel opens onto what I would consider an alleyway back home but is actually a narrow street. I know this because yesterday, I saw a small delivery van maneuvering its way down it, his side mirrorsbarelyclearing the buildings, and for a moment, I assumed the guy had made a wrong turn. Nope. He was delivering something to the shop with the gorgeous leather bags in the window. The cobblestones don’t help the idea that this is a street and not an alley, but they look cool, and Reggie and I stroll lazily as he stops to sniff the corner of the next building.
It has a small, gated courtyard. The gate is open today, and as we walk past, I see a woman trying to navigate her door while her arms are full of bags. I give Reggie a tug in her direction.
“Here, let me help you,” I say as I take two of the bags from her arms. She smiles at me in relief.
“Thank you so much,” she says in an American accent. “I almost lost ’em.” She goes inside, sets down the bag she has, then comes back out and takes one from my arms. “You’rea lifesaver.” She glances down at Reggie, and a flicker of recognition twinkles into her eyes. “Oh, you’re staying next door, right? At the Cavatassi? I’ve seen you walking.”
I nod and glance back at our building. “Yup. It’s nice. I like it.”
“Well, the least I can do is offer you something to drink, it’s so damn hot.” She holds out a hand to me. “I’m Serena. Come in for a bit?” I like her quirkiness. From her flowy yellow dress with the bright orange wrap to her cat’s eye glasses and blond hair piled on top of her head, quirky is the perfect descriptor. Plus, it’s nice to meet a fellow American.
“Lily,” I say and shake her hand. Her nails are painted orange and turquoise, and they alternate colors. “Why not? Is it okay—?” I look down at Reggie.
“Oh, absolutely. Come, come.” She opens her door, and we enter what is the most elegant entryway I’ve ever seen, all light marble and high ceilings. Not at all what I expected from the street. Reggie’s nails click on the shiny floor and Serena squats down to give him some love. “And what’s your name, kind sir?”
“This is Reggie,” I say. Reggie is usually reserved with strangers—it takes him a while to warm up—but he seems to like Serena instantly, his tail swooping back and forth.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Reggie. You’re very handsome.”
“He knows it. Believe me.” I feel like I’m in a movie because this is exactly what I would picture a wealthy Italian’s house to look like, even though Serena is clearly not Italian. “Is this your place?” I ask. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Serena says, then indicates her grocery bags with her chin, silently asking me to follow her. I swoop them up and lead Reggie down the hall after her, trying not to gape at her stunning house.
The kitchen is massive, with a large island, shiny potshanging from a rack above it. A Sub-Zero fridge and an oven with eight burners are appliance standouts, and the windows look out onto another courtyard, this one in the back. “Wow.” I don’t mean to gawk, but I can’t help it.
“You like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Well, thank you, honey.” She waves a hand at Reggie. “Unclip him. He’s fine.”
“You’re sure?” Reggie’s well-behaved, but I don’t want him deciding to lift a leg on anything for no reason. I don’t think he will, but he’s a Chihuahua and they do whatever the hell they want.
“He’s fine. Wine?”
I manage not to glance at my watch because I know it’s not noon yet. But I’m also in Italy, where wine knows no time of day. “Sure.”
Serena disappears through a door I didn’t notice and returns with a bottle of white that’s unfamiliar to me. “I don’t know about you, but I prefer white when it’s this hot. Must be the unrefined American in me.” At that, she laughs, and it’s high-pitched. Almost comically musical, and I kind of love it immediately. “And don’t judge me, but I’m gonna put ice in mine.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a chuckle. “In fact, I’ll take some ice, too.”
“Atta girl.”
“Where are you from?”
She works the corkscrew. “Born in Michigan. Moved to New York City, where I was a dancer for many years.”
“Wow, really?”
“I was a Rockette.”
“No!” I gasp my surprise. “That’s so cool!”
“Yup. Twelve years. Then Anthony and I moved to Nyack,and then we came here.” She pours the wine, adds ice cubes to each one, then hands me a glass. She touches hers to mine. “Cin cin.”
We sip, and good Lord, it’s delicious. Scott had not been kidding about the wine in Italy. “I’ve had a glass of something different every day I’ve been here, and I have yet to be disappointed.”
“Oh, the wine here is next level. Truly. Nothing compares. Come.” She heads out of the kitchen to back doors that lead into the courtyard visible from inside. While I’m not thrilled to be going out in the heat, Serena leads Reggie and me to a lovely, shaded patio with cushy looking furniture. We sit, and being out of the sun definitely helps us not overheat. “So. Lily. Where do you hail from, and what are you doing in Rome?”
