Grandfather Marescotti felt so bad about what had happened to the little girl that he promised Diane he would do everything in his power to find the ring. And she thanked him and said that, regardless of his success, she would return soon with the cencio, so that at least Romeo could get what belonged to him. For some reason, it was very important to her that Romeo still be there when she came back, because she wanted to try something with him. She did not say what it was, and no one dared to ask.
They agreed that Diane Tolomei would return in two weeks, which would give Grandfather Marescotti time to investigate the matter of the ring, and they all parted as friends. Before she drove away, however, Diane said one last thing to him. She told him that if he was successful in his search for the ring, he must be very careful and open the box as little as possible. And under no circumstances must he touch the ring itself. It had, she reminded him, a history of hurting people.
Grandfather Marescotti drove into town the very next day, determined to find the ring. For days and days he went all over the Bottini underneath Palazzo Marescotti to find Romanino’s secret hiding place. When he finally found it-he had to borrow a metal detector-he could see why no one else had stumbled across it before; the box had been pushed deep inside a narrow crack in the wall, and was covered with crumbled sandstone.
As he pulled it out, he remembered what Diane Tolomei had said about not opening the lid more than necessary, but after six centuries in dust and gravel, the wood had become so dry and fragile that even his careful touch was too much for the box. And so the wood fell apart like a lump of sawdust, and within a moment, he found himself standing with the ring right in his hand.
He decided not to give in to irrational fears, and instead of putting the ring in another box, he put it in his trouser pocket and drove back to his villa outside of town. After that drive, with the ring in his pocket, no other male was ever born in his family to carry the name Romeo Marescotti-much to his frustration, everyone kept having girls, girls, girls. There would only ever be Romeo, his grandson, and he very much doubted this restless boy would ever marry and have sons of his own.
Of course, Grandfather Marescotti did not realize all this at the time; he was just happy that he had found the ring for Diane Tolomei, and he was anxious to finally get his hands on the old cencio from 1340 and show it around the contrada. He was already planning to donate it to the Eagle Museum, and imagined that it would bring much good luck in the next Palio.
But it was not going to be that way. On the day when Diane Tolomei was supposed to come back and visit them, he had gathered the whole family for a big party, and his wife had been cooking for several days. He had put the ring in a new box, and she had tied a red ribbon around it. They had even taken Romeo into town-despite the fact that it was just before the Palio-to get him a real haircut, not just the gnocchi pot and the scissors. Now, all they had to do was wait.
And so they waited. And waited. But Diane Tolomei did not come. Normally, Grandfather Marescotti would have been furious, but this time, he was afraid. He could not explain it. He felt as if he had a fever, and he could not eat. That same evening he heard the terrible news. His cousin called to tell him that there had been a car accident, and that Professor Tolomei’s widow and two little daughters had died. Imagine how he felt. He and his wife were crying for Diane Tolomei and the little girls, and the very next day, he sat down and wrote a letter to his daughter in Rome, asking her to forgive him, and to come home. But she never wrote back, and she never came.
VIII.I
O, I have bought the mansion of a love
But not possess’d it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy’d
WHEN ALESSANDRO FINALLY FINISHED his story, we were lying side by side on the wild thyme, holding hands.
“I still remember that day,” he added, “when we heard about the car accident. I was only thirteen, but I understood how terrible it was. And I thought of the little girl-you-who was supposed to be Giulietta. Of course, I always knew I was Romeo, but I had never thought much about Giulietta before. Now I started thinking about her, and I realized that it was a very strange thing to be Romeo, when there is no Giulietta in the world. Strange and lonely.”
“Oh, come now!” I rolled up on one elbow, poking at his gravity with a nodding violet. “I’m sure there has been no scarcity of women willing to keep you company.”
He grinned and brushed the violet away. “I thought you were dead! What could I do?”
I sighed and shook my head. “So much for the engraving on Romeo’s ring, Faithful through the centuries.”
“Hey!” Alessandro rolled us both over and looked down at me with a frown. “Romeo gave the ring to Giulietta, remember-?”
“Wise of him.”
“All right-” He looked into my eyes, not happy about the path of our conversation. “So tell me, Giulietta from America… have you been faithful through the centuries?”
He was half joking, but it was no joke to me. Instead of answering, I met his stare with resolution and asked him straight out, “Why did you break into my hotel room?”
Although he was already braced for the worst, I could not have shocked him more. Groaning, he rolled over and clutched his face, not even trying to pretend there had been a mistake. “Porca vacca!”
“I’m assuming,” I said, staying where I was, squinting at the sky, “you have a really good explanation. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
He groaned again. “I do. But I can’t tell you.”
“I’m sorry?” I sat up abruptly. “You trashed my room, but you won’t tell me why?”
“What? No!” Alessandro sat up, too. “I didn’t do that! It was already like that-I thought you had messed it up yourself!” Seeing my expression, he threw up his arms. “Look, it’s true. That night, after we argued and you left the restaurant, I went over to your hotel to-I don’t know. But when I arrived, I saw you climb down from your balcony and sneak off-”
“No way!” I exclaimed. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Okay, so, it wasn’t you,” said Alessandro, very uncomfortable with the subject, “but it was a woman. Who looked like you. And she was the one who trashed your room. When I went in, your balcony door was already open, and the whole place was a mess. I hope you believe me.”
I clutched my head. “How do you expect me to believe you when you won’t even tell me why you did it?”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out to pull a twig of thyme from my hair. “I wish I could. But it is not my story to tell. Hopefully, you will hear it soon.”
“From whom? Or is that a secret, too?”
“I’m afraid so.” He dared to smile. “But I hope you believe me when I say that I had good intentions.”
I shook my head, upset with myself for being so easy. “I must be insane.”
His smile broadened. “Is that English for yes?”
I got up, brushing off my skirt with brisk strokes, still a little angry. “I don’t know why I let you get away with this-”
“Come here-” He took my hand and pulled me back down. “You know me. You know I could never hurt you.”
“Wrong,” I said, turning my head away. “You are Romeo. You are the one who can really, really hurt me.”
But when he pulled me into his arms, I did not resist. It was as if a barrier inside me was collapsing-it had been collapsing all afternoon-leaving me soft and pliable, barely able to think beyond the moment.
“Do you really believe in curses?” I whispered, nested in his embrace.