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Samantha looked up at a yellow stone building. They had come into an open piazza before it, and tourist groups followed little umbrella-toting guides, while families picnicked on the steps. The building was huge.
“Where is this?”
Edo smiled the most real smile she'd seen from him yet. “Wait and see.”
After a smile like that, Samantha would wait as long as he wanted. She couldn’t help remembering how serious and cold he’d seemed on the plane and in the airport—even yesterday in the city his smiles had felt more like tour-guide smiles than anything. The only time she’d seen him smile like this had been when he’d greeted his mother. Either he really liked this place or he was starting to warm up to Samantha. She couldn’t help hoping it was the latter.
He pulled her up toward the window to purchase tickets, and here there were signs in English.
“Pitti Palace?”
“No, museums aren't really my thing.”
“But—”
Edo pointed lower on the sign. “Boboli Gardens.”
Samantha looked around, uncertain where the gardens actually were. She could see an arched door behind them that looked like it might lead to an open-air courtyard; maybe the gardens were that way. “What's so special about these gardens?”
Edo looked at her somewhat disapprovingly. “Don't tell me you only like cities and can’t appreciate a garden?”
“Of course I can. But why these gardens? What makes them different from, say, the gardens at the Castello Mio?”
Edo's eyes lit up at that. “You'll see.”
They reached the front of the line and Samantha went to pay, but Edo spoke in Italian before she could. The lady behind the desk smiled, swiped his card, and handed them two tickets.
“You're going to have to let me pay for some things, or I'm going to think this is a date.” That should be enough to scare him off from paying in the future—at least, according to info gleaned from Samantha's old college roommates. Though it had been three years since she’d heard from any of them.
Edo considered for a moment, then shrugged.
That was it? He wasn't going to confirm or deny it? Suddenly Samantha’s throat was a little dry. Had she actually ended up on a date in Italy? She glanced again at Edo. With his beautiful green eyes and charming half-smile, he was certainly not a bad option to be on a date with. It was just not something she was used to.
She pulled her attention away from her maybe-date and looked around as they walked through the courtyard and under another arch into a wide-open area. A huge obelisk rose from before her sitting atop what looked like a bathtub. Beyond that a massive hill rose, wrapping on three sides such that it would funnel up from the castle, and she could see paved paths up to the top. A pond with a fountain sat between the obelisk bathtub and the hill. She couldn't see how far the gardens might extend at the top of the hill or off to the sides. After so many buildings so close together throughout the city, it was a shock to come out into such an open space.
“These gardens were built for a princess back during the Renaissance,” Edo said waving a hand. “This is my favorite place in Florence.”
Samantha wasn't quite sure it could be as wonderful as the statues she’d spent the whole previous day with, but he was so sincere she was willing to give these gardens a shot. Besides, if she couldn't stare at the chiseled jaw of a marble Italian man, she could at least stare at the chiseled jaw of the one beside her.
They started along a side path, walking toward the giant hill. It looked pretty steep; Samantha should probably have gotten in better shape before she came to Italy. She’d meant to, but exercise just hadn’t been high enough on the priority list.
Edo led her up the path towards the top of the hill. “I recommend you start by going up, then work your way back down.”
Samantha eyed the many, many steps to the top of the hill. There were some terraced areas where the path crossed the hill, and there was that pond with the fountain on at least one of the levels. “Probably best to get it over with.”
“It's worth it. I promise.”
They started up the hill, but soon a path branched off to their right. Samantha eyed it curiously.
“Do you want to go?”
“I thought you said we should go up first.”
“That's still up.” Edo gestured at the way the hill curved to wrap around three sides.
It was true; there looked to be another path up there that also ran towards the peak of the hill. “Can we?”
Edo shrugged. “This is your vacation.”
Samantha hesitated. It was her vacation, yes, but this was his day to decide where they went. But this tree-lined path appealed to her more than the big open area of the center of the bowl, so she turned and started up it. Edo smiled and followed, and she felt she had just won points in his eyes somehow.
Suddenly she was distracted by a tiny path that went up steeply to the side of her. It was obviously a trail, but not one well-traveled, and it looked like it wound in and out of the trees between the main graveled paths. She looked at Edo and raised her eyebrows.
He grinned.
That was all the encouragement she needed. She plunged off the main path onto the twisty, steep side path. It was muddy and crossed by tree roots, and very soon she couldn't see the main path anymore. It was lovely; it suddenly felt like she wasn't in a city or a tourist area anymore. She paused after a moment though to catch her breath; she was even more out of shape than she’d thought.
“See the old irrigation ditches?” Edo pointed at the moss-grown brick-lined channel running down the hill beside them.
Samantha dropped into a squat to look at it more closely, grateful that he hadn't commented on how out of breath she already was. “That is so neat. How old are the irrigation lines? Are they original to the garden?”
“I don't know. I should probably read a guidebook one of these days.” His tone was light, but there was also a hint of wryness.
Samantha straightened again. “I'm pretty sure I saw a guidebook or two back at the Castello.”
“Then perhaps you should read up on it and fill me in later.”
“Might be useful for you to know since you're taking over the Castello.”
Edo started up the trail again without saying anything.
She should let it go, but she was curious, and he was kind of stuck with her for today. So she asked. “Why don't you want to take over the Castello?”
“Why should I want to?”
Samantha wasn't sure what to say to that. Somehow, it didn't seem like “because it's in Italy and old and beautiful” would be a very good reason. So instead of answering, she jostled him out of the way with her shoulder and took off up the winding little trail, laughing as she slipped in the mud and kept going.
“Hey!” He came after her, and they were both breathless by the time they burst out onto another of the main paths. Breathless and laughing.
Samantha braced her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “Statues,” she managed, and pointed. There were statues placed periodically along this path, which meant she'd already missed several.
“I knew you'd get excited about that. But today is my day, so you don't get to spend all day on each statue.”
Samantha tried to pout, but it was spoiled by the fact that she was still trying to pull in enough air. Edo just laughed at her, so she turned and went over to the nearest sculpture, a woman draped in sumptuous folds of stone cloth and with bunches of grapes dangling from her headpiece.
“Enough time. Moving on.” Edo put an arm around her shoulders and tugged her back into motion.
Samantha’s feet moved, but her mind was stuck. Had he—the man with the personal space issues—just made his entire arm touch her? Maybe personal space stuff didn’t bother him if it was his idea.
She'd already been warm from running up the hill, but the part where his arm touched her shoulders was suddenly much warmer, and then felt too cold when he took his arm away as she got going. She really was hopeless if such a little thing could affect her so much. But when was the last time someone had put their arm around her like that?
“Are we almost to the top?”
“Ha! In your dreams.”
“No, in my dreams you let me sit and study the sculptures all day.”
“But then,” Edo draped his arm across her shoulders again, almost like he was testing the movement out to see if either of them minded, “you wouldn't get to enjoy this fine conversation and the incredible views of the city that I promised you at the bottom.”
“Fine conversation? I'm pretty sure you refused to answer the last time I tried to start a conversation.” Samantha immediately regretted saying it, because she didn't want him to clam up again—or, perhaps worse, remove his arm from her shoulders. Why couldn't she keep things light and fun? She was so awful at flirting.
Edo didn't remove his arm though, and after a minute he spoke in a serious voice. “Il Castello Mio has been in my family for hundreds of years. It has a lot of history and its own charm. But it's also a money trap.”
She waited for more, but when he didn’t say anything else, she took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. “So, we tackle these winding stairs and then we’re done, right?
“Just about.”
Samantha looked at the people leaning off the terrace above her with their cameras aimed down at the palace behind them. “Okay. Let's do this.” Together they trooped up the staircase and came out to a terrace with little hedge mazes all across it no higher than her knees. Gravel paths wound through them, and she could see there were higher hills behind this one, though there also seemed to be a bit of a drop-off on the other side of this terrace.
“Remember that view I promised?” Edo grabbed her hand and pulled her around the edge of the terrace to the railing where they could see out over the Pitti Palace, and Samantha gasped.
All of Florence was spread beneath them, burnt orange and butter yellow, deep cypress greens and bright greens of spring, and the gray-green-brown of the river. The dome of the Duomo rose on one side, and she could see several other large old churches and castles—places that were probably museums and preserved historic locations, though some of the churches still seemed to be in use.
Samantha didn’t know what to say, so she didn't say anything. She just stared out over this city—the city she had dreamed of for so many years—and her eyes filled with tears. She sucked in a shaky breath.
“What's wrong?”
She shook her head, not looking at Edo, not daring to take her eyes off the city in case it vanished. There was something about this place, something that made her feel tiny and young, but not insignificant. Which was strange, because everything else made her feel pretty insignificant. But this city, this view... it had age and depth and color and it filled her and made her want to know all its secrets. If Florence were a man, she would have met her perfect match. “It's nothing.”
Edo turned his back on the city and leaned his elbows behind him on the wall of the overlook, facing Samantha. He watched her for a moment, then muttered something she didn't catch in Italian. Then, in English, he said, “Now here, you may stay all day.” He turned back to face the view once more, “Neither of us will get tired of this sight.”
“You don't hate Florence, then.”
He looked surprised, then embarrassed. “What made you think I hate Florence?”
“You certainly don't seem to want to be here.”
Now he was the one not looking at her, leaning forward with his elbows on the wall and his hands clasped before him. “It's a fine city. But from up here, it's more.”
She felt the “more” down on the city streets as well, but perhaps that was because it was still so new for her. If she spent a few years here, would it take a view like this to remind her how special the city was? She turned back to look out over the city again and leaned on the wall as he was doing, but not so close that he would pull away. “How many times have you seen this view?”
“Not enough.”
At that, such a non-answer, she did elbow him, but he smiled as he pulled back, and once she put her elbow down, he put his back nearly touching hers. “My parents used to send me into the city fairly frequently. I wasn't a true tour guide—I didn't know the history of every place, and I didn't get a kickback from any of the restaurants I took people to—but I showed people how to find their way around, and I brought as many people as I could convince to come here.”
“Is that why you don't like tourists?”
“I don't hate tourists.”
“I didn't say you did. Just that you don't like them.”
He nodded his head in acknowledgment of the hit. “It was hard, growing up, always having people coming and going from the house. I couldn't always bring friends home, couldn't make my own plans in case my parents needed something like a tour guide or a quick run for extra produce because someone had ordered a last-second dinner. Some of the tourists could be a pain too.”
A shame Samantha was a tourist. She was really starting to wish she could be something else. “What made you decide to come back?”
“My father decided it was time I took over. And he’s right; he and my mother... they’re getting old.” His forehead wrinkled a little in concern or sadness.
Samantha thought of the moment she’d first looked at Grandma Lucy and realized she was old. Samantha had been eighteen, and had gone to the beach with friends for a senior trip. Those two weeks were the longest she’d ever been away from her grandma, and when she got home, it was like she saw with new eyes. Every wrinkle, how white her grandma’s hair was instead of the muddy color Samantha had always remembered, how thin the skin was on her hand when Samantha grabbed it to pull her over to their favorite spot on the couch to watch a movie—everything about Grandma Lucy had suddenly seemed mortal.
At the time, Samantha had attributed the realization to her new wisdom as a freshly minted adult. Looking back, she wondered if the seeds of the Alzheimer’s might have been burying their claws into her grandma even then.
She could understand why Edo would come back; why he would stay. Even if it meant giving up his other plans. “Well, I know it's probably not much comfort, but Il Castello Mio is a really neat place,” she said, thinking of his earlier comments about it being a money trap. “You probably won't have much trouble keeping booked.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Do you not remember the drive from the airport? Look around you now. Castelli are not rare here; there are others that are nicer, closer to the city, with spas and pools.”
Samantha wrinkled her nose. “You don't need those.”
“It's harder to make money without them.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “But I don't want the kind of high-maintenance guests who come for those things.”
Samantha looked at him, trying to figure him out. He’d been putting his arm around her just a few minutes ago, but now he sounded so annoyed. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed this line of conversation, but she couldn’t help wanting to know what he was thinking. What he really thought of people like her. “What kinds of guests do you want?”
Edo’s face was completely closed, like it had shutters across it. He shrugged. “The kind that pay the bills and stay out of my hair.”
Samantha thought of the free dinners his mother had been giving her. She was not his ideal type of guest. She tried to picture a teenaged Edo, wanting to go hang out with his friends but having instead to drag tourists around the city. Tourists like her. Like he was being forced to do right now. “Do you remember any of them? The tourists from when you were younger?”
Edo shrugged. “A few faces. A girl who kissed me when I was fourteen.” He laughed, the shuttered look on his face relaxing. “She was fifteen or sixteen. She had some fantasy about having a romance on her vacation to Europe and telling all her friends about it when she got home. I was the best she could manage.”
“Did you like her?”
Edo pushed off the wall and put his hands in his pockets. “She was cute, I guess. I mean, I was attracted to her—she was older, and foreign, and I found it exciting at the time.”
Exciting at the time—that could also imply, “boring now,” which was what John had said about Samantha after they’d gotten to college. Would John someday laugh about his little relationship with her? She felt a sudden pang for the long-lost tourist girl, even though she’d supposedly been the one taking advantage of Edo. “But you didn't stay in touch?”
Edo scoffed. “No. Only once or twice have we ever gotten repeat guests, and no one keeps in touch after they leave. We’re not really people, see—those of us who actually live here—we’re just part of the experience, part of the vacation scenery. We live in their memories, but they don't know that we actually still have lives after they leave.” He gestured out at the city. “For example, you will always see this place the way it is now, where the wisteria is not fully out yet and the grapevines are just starting to green. For you, Florence will stay this way after you leave. For us, it will change. And change, and change. And so will the faces of the tourists.”
That special feeling Samantha had had while looking out over the city—the feeling she was more than just an observer, that maybe something inside her resonated with this place—was suddenly gone. He was right. She would see a tiny moment of this place, and probably never see it again. And it would never remember her, just another tourist. Even Edo, who had spent hours with her already, would remember her only as another tourist his parents had asked him to guide.
She turned her back on the view of the city and walked toward the building that sat beside the little hedge mazes. A sign on it said it was a china museum. Nothing like cold, old porcelain to remind her how little she belonged here. It matched her current mood, anyway.
If Edo sensed her change in mood, he didn't say anything. He just walked along a couple steps behind her as she examined too closely, too carefully every piece of dishware in the two rooms of the mini museum. She paused when she came to a piece done in deep navy blue and shiny gold leaf. Golden herons flew in pairs across white porcelain in the center of each dish, and she felt the tug she’d learned over the years to recognize as her soul resonating with a piece of art. So she stopped, and she stared, and those little birds flying past did what art always did for her—soothed, comforted, filled. And when she looked up from the bowl and met Edo's eyes, she didn't feel sad or useless anymore. “I'm ready to go look at more sculptures. And more gardens as well.”
He might not remember her when she left, but she could store up as many memories of this place as she could hold, and she could make sure she never forgot.