Page 60 of In the Garden of Monsters

“Yes, he is very dismissive about women being painters,” I explained.

“A perfect example. Some of the best painters in the world are women. Do you know of the Venetian painter Giulia Lama?”

I gaped. “You are familiar with Lama? She is one of my favorite painters.” Few knew of Lama outside art scholars who studied the late baroque era.

“Yes, very familiar. Her mastery of chiaroscuro was remarkable, and yet she remains largely unrecognized.”

I was surprised to find this sort of connection with Ignazio. “It’s a challenge, being a woman in the art world, even today.”

“I can only imagine. And what of your own work, Julia? I’d be very interested to see how you express yourself on canvas. Is your style similar to Lama’s, or do you have a different approach?”

I was taken aback by his interest. “My work is quite different. It’s contemporary, exploring themes of identity and transformation. I use a lot of abstract forms and colors.”

“A modern approach, then,” he said thoughtfully. “I would very much like to see your art. Perhaps it might be displayed in the palazzo. This is a place of myth and transformation after all.”

This was the last thing that I expected. “I...I’d be honored,” I said, realizing it was true.

We had reached the truck where Gala, Dalí, and Jack were waiting, and I found I was disappointed that the conversation had ended. Ignazio helped me into the truck bed, his hand briefly touching mine as I climbed in. Again that jolt of heat surged through me. “Until later,” he said, his voice neutral but his eyes holding a glint of something unreadable.

On the return, as we bumped along, my mind turned over Ignazio’s words. Then it hit me. He had said he wasvery familiarwith Lama.

“Are you all right?” Jack asked, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, I am, thank you.”

But I wasn’t. I was too busy thinking about the painter, whose name wasGiulia.

16

I found Lillian alone in her room. She opened the door to let me in, then returned to the vanity to continue reapplying her makeup. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she had a dreamy look on her face.

“I was beginning to think you’d been swallowed by one of Bomarzo’s monsters,” I said, adopting a playful tone to mask my underlying frustration.

Lillian looked at me in the mirror. “Oh, Jules, you won’t believe the afternoon I’ve had. Paolo is just...incredible.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you.”

My friend knew me too well. “But? What’s wrong?”

I sighed. “You do realize you left me alone in the garden, right?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh god, I didn’t even think... I’m so sorry, Jules. We lost track of time.”

“It’s fine, really. I fell asleep. But guess who woke me up?”

“Oh no. Ignazio?” She set down her box of mascara and turned to me. “What happened?”

“Fortunately, nothing. But it was...odd. He’s been absent all day, and then he suddenly appeared when everyone else was gone.”

I explained about his weird apology and his familiarity with Giulia Lama.

“But he didn’t hurt you?”

“No, he helped me out of the whale’s mouth. Then we walked back to the truck.”

Lillian came to me and enveloped me in a hug. “Thank god. I’m really sorry, Jules. It wasn’t intentional, I promise. Paolo and I just got carried away.”

“I get it, Lil. New love is intoxicating. Just...maybe next time, set an alarm?”

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