The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [77]
After slowly placing her bag on the dresser, Alice stepped out onto the dark balcony, inhaling the scent of blossom and an unfamiliar city. She could hear voices from the streets nearby, and the distant hum of traffic, and as she stood there, clutching the narrow, wrought-iron railing, a wave of possibility rolled through her.
It was perfect.
Ella had been here—she could just feel it. Tomorrow, she would find more clues; maybe staff here had talked to Ella, about her travel plans, or perhaps Ella had even checked in as Alice, and she could access “her” room bill details. There could be a phone call charged to the room or a fresh credit card registered for payment to lead her even deeper into Ella’s trail…
Alice shivered with excitement at the prospect. Suddenly spinning around, she took two long steps back into the room and hurled herself onto the bed with glee. The soft bedspread rippled under her; her reflection in the mirror showed her eyes bright and full of hope.
She was getting closer.
***
The next morning, the all-knowing Carina was still nowhere to be seen, so Alice took a list of cafés from Pascal and set out, in her goddess dress and a comfortable pair of sandals. The city was hers to discover, and for the first time, she had not a single plan in mind. Alice was free to wander as she willed, and she would relish every moment of it.
“Dessert, signora?”
Alice looked away from the busy midday square to find her waiter. “Absolutely,” she beamed, taking the menu. She was full from the plate of delicious seafood and soft, warm bread, but that was no reason at all to miss out on the many delights of pastry, or chocolate, or— “Panna cotta,” she decided. “And another glass of wine, grazie.”
Sitting back in her chair, Alice let out a sigh of contentment. She’d spent the morning strolling through the winding backstreets, taking in the washed reds and terra-cotta of the faded buildings, and now she was settled at a shaded table out on a small, paved square. Trailing boxes of flowers surrounded her with a pretty garden, and in the middle of the piazza, a glorious fountain gushed streams of water into a low pool, glinting in the sun.
“It’s the next left, I’m telling you.” A harried group of tourists came to a stop nearby, peering at their maps.
“No, that was the plaza.” A man hitched his pack higher, glancing around but not seeming to see anything at all. “It’s back the way we came.”
“Are you sure?”
There was more disagreement, and then they moved off, hurrying to make whatever tour they’d booked. A few years ago, Alice knew she’d been just the same, attempting to cram every attraction into her trip for fear of missing out. Now, she was gloriously free from such concerns. It felt almost indulgent not to make the most of her time in Rome, but she’d already seen the Pantheon, viewed plenty of old churches, even strolled the catacombs—and felt no desire to race around the city doing it again. This was her stolen weekend, Alice decided, beaming at the waiter as he delivered her dessert. She could sit for half the afternoon in this café if she liked, soaking in the soft gold tint of the light and the sensuous curve of the statue on the corner. And perhaps she would.
Nobody knew she was there.
***
When the last sweet spoonful of dessert was gone, Alice left a generous tip and wandered on her way. Turning down a wide, tree-lined boulevard, she found herself surrounded by stylish storefronts, hung with dark awnings and boasting designer shoes and handbags behind the spotless glass. She browsed idly up the street for a while, under the watchful eyes of the polished staff, but it wasn’t until she reached a small boutique on the corner that she felt the first tug of temptation.
“Antonia’s” the name read in gold script on the window. Alice stepped inside and found herself surrounded by pale peach walls and gilt edgings, the wood floor set with antique cabinets displaying an occasional flash of vibrant silk or a rich leather shoe.