“No,” Pier said. “Of course not.” She leaned over and pressed the horn. A moment later, a young woman came out of one of the shops. Pier got out of the car and raced to greet her. They hugged each other.
“You look wonderful!” the woman exclaimed. “You must be doing very well.”
“I am.” Pier held out her wrist. “Look at my new bracelet!”
“Are those real emeralds?”
“Of course they are real.”
The woman yelled at someone inside the store. “Anna! Come on out. Look who is here!”
Robert was watching the scene, unbelievingly. “Pier—”
“In a minute, darling,” she said. “I have to say hello to my friends.”
Within minutes half a dozen women were clustered around Pier, admiring her bracelet, while Robert sat there helplessly, gritting his teeth.
“He is crazy about me,” Pier announced. She turned to Robert. “Aren’t you, caro?”
Robert wanted to strangle her, but there was nothing he could do. “Yes,” he said. “Can we go now, Pier?”
“In a minute.”
“Now!” Robert said.
“Oh, very well.” Pier turned to the women. “We must leave now. We have an important appointment. Ciao!”
“Ciao!”
Pier got into the car beside Robert, and the women stood there watching them drive away.
Pier said happily, “They are all old friends.”
“Wonderful. Where’s your mother’s house?”
“Oh, she doesn’t live in the city.”
“What?”
“She lives outside of town in a little farmhouse, half an hour from here.”
The farmhouse was on the southern outskirts of Naples, an old stone building set off from the road.
“There it is!” Pier exclaimed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes.” Robert liked the fact that the house was away from the center of town. There would be no reason for anyone to come looking for him here. Pier was right. It’s a perfect safe house.
They walked up to the front door, and before they reached it, the door flew open and Pier’s mother stood there smiling at them. She was an older version of her daughter, thin and gray-haired, with a lined, careworn face.
“Pier, cara! Mi sei mancata!”
“I’ve missed you too, Mama. This is the friend I telephoned you about that I was bringing home.”
Mama did not miss a beat. “Ah? Si, you are welcome Mr.—?”
“Jones,” Robert said.
“Come in, come in.”
They entered the living room. It was a large room, comfortable and homey, crammed with furniture.
A boy in his early twenties entered the room. He was short and dark, with a thin, sullen face and brooding brown eyes. He wore jeans and a jacket with the name Diavoli Rossi sewn on it. His face lit up when he saw his sister. “Pier!”
“Hello, Carlo.” They hugged.
“What are you doing here?”
“We came to visit for a few days.” She turned to Robert. “This is my brother, Carlo. Carlo, this is Mr. Jones.”
“Hello, Carlo.”
Carlo was sizing Robert up. “Hello.”
Mama said, “I will fix a nice bedroom for you two lovebirds in the back.”
Robert said, “If you don’t mind—that is, if you have an extra bedroom, I’d prefer a room to myself.”
There was an awkward pause. The three of them were staring at Robert.
Mama turned to Pier. “Omosessuale?”
Pier shrugged. I don’t know. But she was sure he was not a homosexual.
Mama looked at Robert. “As you wish.” She hugged Pier again. “I’m so happy to see you. Come into the kitchen. I will make some coffee for us.”
In the kitchen, Mama exclaimed, “Benissimo! How did you meet him? He looks very rich. And that bracelet you are wearing. It must have cost a fortune. My goodness! Tonight I will cook a big dinner. I will invite all the neighbors so they can meet your—”
“No, Mama. You must not do that.”
“But cara, why should we not spread the news of your good luck? All our friends will be so pleased.”
“Mama, Mr. Jones just wants to rest for a few days. No party. No neighbors.”
Mama sighed. “All right. Whatever you wish.”
I’ll arrange for him to be picked up away from the house, so Mama will not be disturbed.
Carlo had noticed the bracelet, too. “That bracelet. Those are real emeralds, huh? Did you buy that for my sister?”