CHAPTER SIX
Julia’s smile evaporated any fear Sara had had about their meeting.
“Oh, Sara, what a surprise! It’s so good to see you!”
“You, too,” Sara said.
They embraced. Had it really been nearly thirty years? A scent of wildflowers permeated Julia’s clothing and her hair. Sara breathed her in, as if taking a hit of oxygen after being depleted for years. Julia had aged, of course, but at the same time had become more beautiful. Was that even possible?
“I can’t believe you came,” Julia said.
She stepped back to look at Sara again. Julia took Sara’s hand and Sara felt giddy; drunk with the knowledge that Julia was happy to see her.
“How did you get here?” Julia asked.
“The usual way,” Sara said. She flapped her arms like wings and instantly blushed her embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said. “I could get the Pulitzer for being lame these days.”
“Don’t be silly,” Julia said. “I always loved your sense of humor.”
Julia had not stopped smiling and Sara had to divert her eyes to withstand the attention.
“It means so much to me that you came,” Julia said. “Is Grady here, too?” She quickly scanned the crowd.
“No, he’s at home,” Sara said.
Julia asked where she was staying and Sara told her. “Very upscale,” Julia said. “But I insist you stay with me. I have a great little place and then we’ll have time to catch up.”
The owner of the gallery apologized for the interruption and spoke to Julia.
“He wants me to meet someone interested in buying one of my paintings,” Julia told her. “Don’t go anywhere. We have so much to talk about.”
Sara watched Julia be whisked away and turn on the charm with the potential buyers. She could sell anything, Sara thought. She had even sold Sara on staying with her. But this was something Sara didn’t mind being sold on.
Sara walked around and for the first time studied the art on the walls. Julia’s paintings were mostly abstract. Bold and with bright colors; lots of reds. Some things never change, Sara thought. Julia’s paintings had an energy to them that felt like Julia: dynamic, compelling. Sara translated the prices on the paintings from euros to dollars. Could you really make that much money painting? Too bad I can only draw stick figures, she thought.
Sara found a corner away from the crowd and observed the scene around her. She had never been around this level of sophistication. The women actually wore jewels. Sara suddenly felt tired. Considering how much sleep she had gotten these last few days, it was amazing that she could even stand. But none of this changed the fact that she was in Italy.
Several minutes later Julia reappeared with an elegant looking couple by her side. “Sara, I’d like you to meet my good friends Melanie and Max.”
“Welcome to Italy,” Melanie said. She greeted Sara with a quick kiss to each cheek. She was forty, at the most, and dressed in an elegant black pantsuit with short heels to match. She was almost as tall as her husband and slender.
“A pleasure,” Max said. He extended his hand to Sara. A slight middle-aged paunch was evident underneath his black jacket, but otherwise he appeared tan and fit. Because of his dark hair and eyes he looked like an Italian businessman.
“Max and Melanie live in Siena,” Julia said.
“But you’re American, right?” Sara said.
“Yes,” Melanie said. “Living in Italy is a dream come true for us. Thank God Max got in and out of tech stocks when he did. Or we might still be living in New Jersey.”
Sara liked Max and Melanie instantly. She and Grady didn’t have friends like this. They hardly had friends at all.
Roger approached and a look crossed Julia’s face that Sara tried to decipher. Was she irritated with him? Or just slightly intolerant.
“Sara, this is Roger,” Julia said. Her smile dulled.
“Yes, we met earlier,” Sara said.
Roger’s expression was slightly puppy-like, his gaze leaving Julia for only short amounts of time. Sara suddenly recognized the look. She had seen it on the faces of the high school boys that Julia had briefly dated. It was the look Julia’s admirers got when they had been shown the door.
The evening was just getting started but to Sara it felt like the middle of the night. She made her apologies and announced her need to go back to the hotel. She had no idea if she were on New England time or Italy time. She felt like she was still hovering somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.
“It’s so nice to have met all of you,” Sara said. “But it’s been a long day.”
Julia handed Sara a card with her address and phone number on it. “Check out of the hotel first thing in the morning,” Julia said, “and come to my apartment for brunch. And I insist that you stay with me for the rest of your time in Florence, okay?”
“Okay,” Sara said. Following Julia’s lead, even after all these years, felt familiar to her and, at this moment, comforting.
“I’ll get you a cab back to the hotel,” Roger said, as he left Sara to say her goodbyes to Max and Melanie.
“Promise you’ll come visit us,” Melanie said. “We have a quaint little farmhouse on the Tuscan countryside.”
Sara hesitated. Suddenly the whole trip was too much. Julia wanted her to come for brunch and then stay with her. Max and Melanie wanted her to visit. Since when had she gotten so popular? Julia had always had a knack for sweeping people along in her wake. Sara remembered that now. No wonder she had missed Julia so much after she had gone.
Roger returned to tell her a cab was waiting. Julia gave Sara a long embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Julia said.
“Me, too,” Sara said. But this was the understatement of the year. Being in Italy felt crucial to her existence at this point. It gave her a B12 shot of hope. It didn’t make sense, but somehow it felt like being in Italy was going to save Sara’s life.