Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics Page 22

  Ruth laughed. “Well, if I had a choice I think I’d come back as Tuffy-Two.”

  “You’d come back as a dog?” Millie shook her head. “A dog? What kind of life is that?”

  “I think that little dog has it made. What a life! Claire, Mrs. B and all the customers dote on it and Theroux, the cat, protects him. People feed him, walk him, play with him and rub his belly every time he rolls on his back. It looks like a life of ease to me.”

  They all had to laugh except Jack, who only knew the original Tuffy who lived with the Lickmans in Maryland.

  “What about you, Claire? What would you like to do?”

  Claire looked at Jack. “You know, I kind of like it just as it is. I know that sounds dull, but truthfully, I love my life. And what adventure I do have is more than enough to satisfy me. Actually, I wouldn’t mind a little more dullness.”

  Jack nodded. “Well, I don’t believe in re-incarnation so I don’t even think about doing it again. Once is enough for me.”

  Then they started talking about their plans for the next day. They would be leaving for home the following day, so they needed to get the most out of their day as possible.

  Their hotel was just ahead when Jack, apparently reluctant for the evening to end said, “It’s really not late. How about trying a Bellini at Harry’s Bar?”

  “Uh huh, not me. I’m operating on too little sleep right now. I’m looking forward to bed. Thanks anyway.”

  Millie shook her head, agreeing with Ruth. “You two go on. We’re ready for bed. We need a good night’s sleep so we can do everything we have planned for tomorrow. Just tiptoe when you come in, Claire.”

  Claire and Jack watched them enter the hotel and then turned towards the bar. Claire said, “I’m surprised. Ruth is usually ready to party until the last person drops. They must have been up late last night.”

  “Well, maybe they were just being nice and giving us some time together.” Jack slipped his arm around her waist as they moved through the night.

  CHAPTER 17

  It was quite early, but both Sister Marie Terese and Senora Sorenson were at the desk, smiling warmly, as they checked out.

  “Please, you will come again?” Sister Marie Terese said, obviously proud of the words she struggled so hard to say.

  “We had a wonderful time.” Millie indicated the pile of baggage, boxes and totes near the door. “We shopped too much in Murano.”

  “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Claire chimed in. “Grazie,” she said to Sister Marie Terese.

  “Come on,” Ruth called from the door. “Jack’s here with the water taxi.”

  It took a few minutes to get everything safely stowed on the taxi and get settled inside the small cabin before the taxi driver made his way through the fog shrouded canals.

  “This is a much better idea than trying to transport all this stuff on the vaporetti, Jack. Thanks for suggesting it.” Claire had been warned about the cost of the water taxis, but Jack said with four of them sharing the cost it was actually reasonable to travel this way and much more convenient. And as he insisted on paying the whole tab, it was going to be very inexpensive.

  Claire tried to drink in the sight of Venice as they passed the picturesque palaces, their outlines now softened by the fog. She wasn’t able to resist snapping a few last pictures. She hated to leave. Venice was truly a unique spot and, she sighed remembering the gondola ride in the inky night, very romantic.

  “I loved Murano. I know I bought too much, but it was all so beautiful.”

  “Not all of it. I can live without some of those ornate chandeliers we saw.” Ruth made a face.

  “Well, you’re right. Not all of it. But that one place we found with all that aged glass, which looked like bottles dug up from archeological digs, was fabulous. And I loved all those little colored bottles.”

  Ruth nodded. “And those wine glasses Claire bought were exquisite. I hope they arrive safely.” She didn’t trust the mails and had insisted on carrying the pieces she bought on the plane.

  Claire shrugged. “They’re insured and the shop will make them good if they do break. I think we all have to take a lesson from Jack.” She gestured to the one backpack Jack had. He obviously traveled very lightly.

  “How do you do that, Jack?” Ruth was curious. “I’ve seen you for three days now, so I know you’re not wearing the same thing each day.”

  Jack smiled. “Almost. Two pairs of trousers, one I wear. I have a Windbreaker that’s waterproof, a jacket that doesn’t wrinkle, and three shirts. One of those I wear. Same goes for underwear and socks. And an extra pair of shoes. I have a comb, razor and toothbrush. What else do you need?”

  The three women looked at him amazed.

  “I think life is much simpler for men,” Millie announced.

  Ruth nodded. “Must be. I was so proud of myself for only using the one wheelie bag. And even then I cheated by getting one that has a gusset which can be unzipped so the bag stretches to a larger size.”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s too much trouble to get those on and off trains, boats and buses. The backpack is the way to go.”

  Ruth shook her head. “It’ll never happen. Women just need more stuff. But I admire your style.”

  Claire almost spoke up about traveling with Kristen with only a backpack, but remembered in time and made an inane comment instead. She could understand why Jack traveled so lightly, but Ruth and her mother didn’t even know what Jack did. So they didn’t understand his work didn’t allow for the luxuries they thought they had to have. He only wanted to get from place to place alive. He didn’t need travel guides, skin lotion, dress up clothes or swim suits. And she had found out she didn’t need them either. But she didn’t intend to travel that way again even though she now knew she could.

  “And that place we had lunch was perfect. What a find. Did anybody get the name?”

  They all looked at each other, then Ruth laughed. “Well, we won’t be ruining it by telling everyone about it, will we?”

  Claire shook her head, thinking that she might be able to describe its location if she wanted to recommend it. Jack found it for them. He had taken one of the workers at the last glass factory aside and asked him where to have lunch. Finally when the man understood they didn’t want to eat at the restaurants along the canal which catered to tourists, he told them about a favorite of the locals. They would have never found it without instructions. It was down the street from the factory, through a passageway between a bar and some other shop, which brought them out into a garden set with tables, some under a roof extended from the building, some out in the blazing sun.

  It still amazed Claire how the Italians seemed to love to soak up the sun. She had seen it all through her trip. She would look for the little pools of shade to walk in or sit in, while the Italians sought the sun. Some even had jackets thrown casually over their shoulders as they basked in the rays of mid afternoon, obviously unaware of the risk of melanoma.

  They had claimed a table in the shade and had a leisurely, sumptuous, reasonably priced lunch amidst the crowded garden. The hearty red wine was served in little pitchers. The plates of pasta were heaping, the pasta tender and the sauce divine. And the bread, unlike the rolls which they had for breakfast at the hotel, was fresh, light and yeasty. They were happy to while away the afternoon until it was obvious the family who ran the restaurant was trying to close it.

  They picked up their purchases, which were being packed for travel, caught the vaporetti and returned to Venice to see as many of the sights as they could crowd into the rest of the day. Claire was happy to find there were no cruise ships moored on the wharf today. Consequently the piazza San Marco was relatively empty and much easier to navigate with only the pigeons to watch out for. All in all it had been a great day.

  “Jack, I’m so glad Claire ran into you. You have been a valuable addition to our group.”

  “Say nothing about my assistance with the luggage.” Jack laughed, knowin
g what he said was true.

  Ruth nodded. “The best way to travel would be to have a porter with you. When we came to Venice on the train there was a very old, very smartly dressed lady with many pieces of luggage, who boarded the train outside of Florence. But she had a young girl traveling with her. The teenager was obviously to fetch and carry. She struggled to get the luggage on and stowed, and then she was sent down to the bar car to get her patron a drink. She barely had time to sit before we arrived, and then I saw her trying to unload everything.” She smiled. “It looked like a wonderful way to travel to me.”

  “Unless you were the young girl,” Millie commented.

  “Well of course, I would want to be the patron. You know, like we all think if we lived in yesteryear we would be the privileged class. No one wants to be the servant, even though that’s probably the stock we came from.”

  They all laughed. Ruth was absolutely right.

  “So, Mom, what about this offer of an internship in New York? Did Chef Martin offer it to everyone?” Claire asked, remembering the conversation at dinner last night which had been interrupted by another story.

  Ruth and Millie looked strangely at each other and then Millie smiled at her daughter. “No, actually, I think he only offered it to me.” She blushed. “I guess he was impressed with my skills.”

  Ruth laughed, saying cryptically, “I’d say.”

  Millie frowned at Ruth. “It was very nice of him. I really don’t know if he offered a spot to any of the others. He may have. It was very generous of him, but I’m sure I won’t be taking him up on it.”

  That comment initiated a lively discussion with everyone contributing their opinion.

  But Millie just shook her head. “I really don’t think I need it for the type of cooking I plan to do. But I promise I’ll think about it a while before I finally make up my mind.”

  That would have to satisfy them all as they had arrived at the Marco Polo Airport dock, and here porters were waiting eagerly to help them with their luggage.

  * * *

  “Millie, I can’t believe you haven’t said a word to Claire about what happened at the Retreat.” Ruth shook her head as she settled into her window seat for the long flight to San Francisco.

  Millie sat beside her on the aisle. She had tucked her book, her knitting and a bottle of water in the little pocket in the seat in front of her and had just pulled out the airline magazine to peruse. “It was hard. I caught myself a dozen times. And I appreciate your cooperation. I know it was hard for you with your motor mouth.” She smiled gently at her friend of so many years.

  “It was. I wanted to tell her. I think she would want to know how close we both came to eating poison mushrooms.” Ruth’s voice was low so it only reached Millie’s ears. The rest of the passengers were still boarding and the airline staff was moving up and down the aisles checking seatbelts and helping people stow their possessions.

  “Why? So she would worry? So she would blame herself for talking me into going on the trip?” Millie was adamant. “You know Claire’s led a sheltered life. Remember how long it took her to recover from that incident she got embroiled in with your neighbors?” She shook her head vehemently. “No, she didn’t need to hear about any of the problems we had.”

  She peered into Ruth’s face. “And don’t you go forgetting and blab, Ruth Clarkson, or..., or I’ll never forgive you.”

  Ruth shook her head, sitting back meekly. She and Millie had been friends for a very long time and she knew her well enough to know when she was serious. And she was very serious. Ruth knew they would tell no one about the real adventures at the Retreat and soon they would probably even start to forget what happened themselves.

  She reached for her own copy of the airline magazine and turned to the crossword puzzle. That would hold her attention until they were safely in the air, then she would see what movies were going to be shown.

  * * *

  Claire followed the Vantage Airline representative, who happily carried the large box of Murano glassware her mother had bought. Claire carried her backpack and another bag of purchases she had made along the way. She had offered to take her mother’s, so it wouldn’t have to be checked. She had already learned when you flew first class with a VIP status, no one gave you grief if your bag was too big or you carried more than the maximum number of pieces on board.

  “This way, Ms. Gulliver.” The young man respectfully motioned her through the crowd clustered around the door waiting for their turn to board.

  Claire felt her face flush. She still wasn’t used to this treatment. She felt eyes on her as people obviously wondered who she was and why she was receiving preferential attention. But then she was through the door and down the long corridor of the Jetway, where the young man turned her over to the flight crew, bidding her a pleasant good-bye.

  “Have a wonderful trip, Ms. Gulliver. Thank you so much for traveling with us today.” And he sounded like he really meant it.

  The attendant took her packages and placed them carefully in a bin before ushering her to the generous sized seat in the front of the plane. Last fall Vantage Airlines had awarded her a VIP status for her efforts in saving their president’s life. This trip was the first time she had used the lifetime pass and she quickly realized it was more than just free transportation, it included personal, caring attention from the airline personnel every step of the way. It made her feel like she was someone very special. She smiled slightly. Of course she was, but who in the world usually cared. And besides everyone was special, weren’t they?

  That brought her thoughts back to Jack. They were going their separate ways once again. It seemed to be the story of their relationship. She felt a shiver of pleasure remembering his kisses. The attraction for him could easily escalate, but she held herself back. She didn’t really believe all those stories about people who worked for the CIA, because she knew Jack certainly wasn’t a cold blooded killer. Still, while he wasn’t a glamorous James Bond or even a superman like Bourne, he wasn’t an ordinary person.

  She thought about his request that she continue to write to him. It seemed silly knowing he wouldn’t read her letters for weeks, maybe longer if he was undercover, but she knew she would. She wasn’t willing to toss the connection they had away. After all, someday he might retire.

  “Would you like a Mimosa?” the flight attendant asked, and at her nod she pulled the tray out of the arm of Claire’s seat and set a frosted glass down along with a little dish of warmed nuts.

  Claire sipped the refreshing drink, nibbling at the nuts as the rest of the passengers were seated and the plane prepared for departure. She wished her mother was here. Millie would love traveling in first class. But then there would be lies or difficult explanations about Claire’s special status at Vantage. No, it was good her mother and Ruth had booked their flights on another airline before Claire even decided to join them on this trip. This way they didn’t even know she was in the first class section.

  The plane was taxiing out to the runway when the glass and nut bowl were collected and put away. Claire sat back thinking about her mother. She had had a great time at the Retreat. That had been evident. Who knows, maybe she would be willing to take other trips. That would really be good for her. And maybe she’d even accept the internship in New York. After all it would only be for a few months.

  Claire relaxed into the plush seat back as the plane hurdled down the runway before tilting sharply, nose up, aiming for the sky.

  She didn’t like to lie to her mother. She didn’t want to hide things from her, but as she explained to Jack, her mother worried and worried. Claire didn’t like to give her excuses for more worry. And Jack had been good about it. In all the time he stuck to them like glue in Venice, he never once gave a hint of any of the scary incidences they had shared in their past meetings. She could see both women were very taken with him. She smiled to herself. Now they would both drive her crazy wanting to know how Jack was. Had she seen him? Had she heard from h
im? When would he be coming to see her?

  Well, those were all questions she had herself. She would just wait and see what the answers were.

  * * *

  Jack stood at the window watching Claire’s plane. The motorized Jetway was retracted, leaving the plane isolated on the tarmac for a moment. Then the little tractor with the long pulley contraption on the front engaged and pushed the plane away from the terminal so it could proceed to the runway under its own power.

  Once again they had said their good-byes. He wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to develop his relationship with Claire the way he wanted. It seemed like the world transpired to keep them apart. He sighed. Well, he already had his next assignment, but after that, he was determined to pursue a change in his life. He would retire. He would move closer to Claire and he would woo her. She just didn’t know how serious he could be.

  He smiled. But she would find out.

  * * *

  “How did you get my name?” The man didn’t seem to want to talk to her.

  “James Martino suggested I speak to you.”

  Now she had his attention. He looked at her carefully while he drummed his fingers on his desk top. What he saw was a young attractive brunette. Her hair was very short, very modern, spiked on the top. She wore blue tinted frameless glasses, and she was exceedingly attractive. Her clothes were very casual, the sort you saw all the young people wearing, and her backpack seemed to be a part of her person.

  “What about?” he barked, very abrupt; he was a busy man.

  “Well, you see, I became involved with James and Will and Emily...”

  He nodded, waiting for the rest but not offering any help.