Page 33 of The Unraveling of Julia

She realized she was outside in the vineyard. Maybe.

She didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

She didn’t know if she’d had a nightmare at all.

20

The next morning, Julia rode in the passenger seat, edgy on her way to meet the family investigator in Florence. Piero was driving quietly, but his silence wasn’t as companionable as before. He’d been freaked out by the scene in the vineyard last night, and Anna Mattia had been cooler at breakfast.

Julia couldn’t blame them, more shaken than ever. She had on a turtleneck because her neck was covered with scratches. Her arms and legs were cut from the thornbushes under her blazer and jeans. She hadn’t slept and looked so pale she had on foundation. She’d taken the pearl from her wallet and flushed it down the toilet, never wanting to see it again. The only luck it brought was nightmarish.

Julia looked out the window, trying to collect her thoughts. She was losing her grip. She’d had nightmares at home about Mike’s murder, but she’dneverleft her bed, much less herbedroom. Last night she’d run out of the house to the vineyard, gotten tangled in the vines, thrashed around like a freak, all while she wasasleep.

Julia tried to let it go but couldn’t. It was as if she lived through a horror and carried it with her, embodied it somehow, terrified that shewas going borderline berserk. She sensed that Caterina was driving her to it for some reason, maybe even the same way Caterina had driven Rossi to it. It terrified Julia to think she’d end up like Rossi.

She told herself to get a grip. She couldn’t fall apart, not today. This was her chance to see if she was related to Rossi in some way and learn about her biological family, maybe even connect with them. She glanced at her phone and touched the screen to read this morning’s horoscope again, since it had been a comfort.

You are being tested in ways you never imagined. Believe in yourself. Your intuitive Cancerian nature will show you the way. Your rising Virgo will give you strength to persevere.

Julia took it in as they reached the historic district, where Piero pulled over and stopped, turning to her.

“Okay here?”

“Yes, thank you.” Julia looked out the window, newly nervous. The street was packed with cars, buses, and motorcycles. People were everywhere. She had Google-mapped the route to the investigator’s office, which was along the Arno River. It was a short walk through the most congested part of the city. She told herself to persevere.

Piero held up his phone. “You tex’, I come.Ciao, Signora.”

“Grazie, Piero.Ciao.” Julia slipped on her sunglasses and got out of the car, acclimating herself to the scene. The streets were narrow, crowded, and rowdier than Milan, full of students with backpacks, couples with selfie sticks, and group tours in high-visibility hats.

She headed toward the Arno on a cobblestone walkway, powering through the hustle-bustle, chatter in different languages, and clouds of cigarette and vape smoke. She passed pizzerias, boutiques, atattoo parlor, a pharmacy, and a restaurant with a chalkboard that readCUCINA TIPICA TOSCANA. Cafés lined the street, their outside tables full, and her heart pounded as she threaded her way past tourists around a kiosk selling Pinocchio marionettes, spoon rests, T-shirts, and rosaries.

Ahead the crowd spread out as Florence opened onto the Arno. She picked up the pace to get some open air and followed her map to the river. The water was a wide, greenish blue ribbon that mirrored the trees and magnificent stone buildings along its banks, but Julia felt too nervous to sightsee. Traffic was stop-and-go on the street that lined the river, and sidewalks were packed with tourists taking pictures of the ancient bridges spanning the water, among them the most popular, the Ponte Vecchio.

Julia took a right turn away from the Ponte Vecchio, hurrying along the crowded sidewalk to the investigator’s address. Her steps quickened, and she felt better knowing that soon she’d be inside the investigator’s office.

Julia stopped at the address on her phone. Google Maps showed the building facing the Arno, but there wasn’t an office at the address, only an outdoor café. She scrolled to check the email from Lombardi, but she was at the correct address. She thought Lombardi must’ve made a mistake until an older man started waving to her from one of the tables. He had tinted glasses, thick salt-and-pepper hair, and a flashy suit.

“Julia, I’m Gustavo Caputo! Join me!”

Julia was surprised he would meet her at a café. She walked over, noting a large carafe of wine on his table, half empty.

“Julia, you’re even lovelier than Lombardi said!” Caputo beamed, throwing open his arms. “If only I were younger! You could be my third ex-wife!”

Arg.Julia managed a smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Caputo.”

“Please, call me Gustavo! Aren’t you impressed with my English? My first wife was British. She insisted I learn the language and also that I leave the house.” Caputo gestured with a flourish to the chair next to him. People flowed past them on the sidewalk, but he ignored them. “Do sit down, Julia! Let’s get to know one another, shall we?”

“Here?” Julia didn’t want to discuss her family search in public. The tables were close together, full of tourists, talking and smoking. “What about your office?”

“There’s no need! Could one ask for a better view?” Caputo gestured to the Arno. “Please, have a seat. I’m having coffee brought for you.”

Julia sat down, dismayed. She wondered if he even had an office.

“So tell me about yourself!” Caputo retook his seat. “What’s it like to be an heiress?”

Gimme a break.“I’d rather hear about your professional services. Mr. Lombardi said you were an experienced family investigator.”

“What will youdowith that much money?” Caputo’s eyes flashed behind his tinted glasses. “If I were young, I’d take a world tour!”

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