Page 36 of The Unraveling of Julia

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Julia perched on the Vespa’s padded seat, clutching Gianluca’s quilted jacket as they took off, whizzing past the Palazzo Vecchio. She didn’t know why Ballcap was following her, but she couldn’t think at speed. Her hair whipped around, and her teeth clenched as they bobbled over cobblestones through the historic center of Florence, cars zipping everywhere.

They wound through medieval streets, crossed a sunny piazza lined with statuary, then down streets with homes four and five stories high, with shops on the first floor. They slowed as they approached an elegant brownstone with Italian and EU flags flying from its facade. Its grand mahogany door had a large brass plaque that readBIBLIOTECA MARUCELLIANA.

Gianluca stopped in front, cut the engine, and braced the Vespa. “We’re here.”

Julia got off and raked her hair into place. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you were bothered.” Gianluca’s eyes were a concerned brown, and his smile warm. “This is my hometown, and I’m unhappy when Florentines misbehave. What happened in the Uffizi?”

“Uh, it was nothing.” Julia wanted to change the subject. “So this is your library?”

“Yes.” Gianluca hoisted the bike to the entrance, putting down the kickstand. “I’m Director, a euphemism for Head Geek.”

Julia smiled. “Your English is perfect.”

“My mom’s from San Francisco.” Gianluca gestured at the door. “Would you like to see inside? Marucelliana isn’t a tourist destination, but it should be. We have forty thousand volumes, not including rare manuscripts, letters, documents, and books. You can look around, get something to drink, and call your friend.”

“Okay, thanks,” Julia answered after a moment. She felt better off the street, and he seemed nice. Plus, a librarian.

“Cool. This way.” Gianluca led her inside and up a beautiful marble staircase that wound around in several landings, complete with marble benches and ornate statuary. He gestured proudly as they ascended. “Marucelliana was built in 1752, as part of a bequest to ensure that Florentines had access to literature. By law, every book published in the city must be deposited here. Yet we’re not institutional like the National Library. That’s where I was when you ran into me. Literally.”

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“I’m joking. Here, this way.” Gianluca stepped aside when they reached the second floor, admitting her to a generic reception area with fluorescent lighting, orange walls, and a long wooden desk with a plastic shield.

A young female librarian looked up with a smile. “Ciao, Gianluca.”

“Ciao, Betta. Don’t mind me, I’m redeeming our city.”

The librarian laughed, returning to her book, and Gianluca showed Julia into a cramped, dark corridor that felt oddly like a secret passageway and ended in a small door of green metal, curved like a coffin.

Gianluca stopped. “It’s a weird door, right?”

“Right.”

“Wait for it.” Gianluca opened the door with a flourish, and Julia was amazed that it led to a vast, majestic room with a high, vaulted ceiling like a cathedral. Books encased in polished mahogany shelves lined all sides, extending from the floor to the ceiling, two stories high. The second floor of books was accessed by a balcony with brass ladders every four or five shelves.

Mahogany tables spanned the length of the immense room, with graceful old-fashioned brass lamps and a row of chairs on each side. Massive arched windows were embedded in vaults of cream-colored plaster. Filtered sunlight fell on a handful of young men and women working silently, their books and laptops open. The air smelled like old wood and even older paper. There was total silence, stillness, and calm, which Julia breathed in like oxygen.

“My God,” she said under her breath.

“Follow me.” Gianluca led her through the library, and she followed him into a narrow hallway that ended in a T, going left and right. The room on the left had a display of plaques and articles in a glass case, but Gianluca was heading to the room on the right.SALA RISERVATA, read its sign, and there was a velvet cordon, which he unclipped.

Julia felt like she’d been admitted to the inner sanctum. No one else was inside, and the room was small and dim, with a low ceiling of exposed unvarnished rafters. Old books lined the room, their leather bindings in dark reds, blues, greens, and tans. The balcony was wooden with an elaborately carved balustrade and library ladders. There were several mahogany tables and lamps with details in wrought iron, aglow against the wood’s rich, dark grain.

“This is our rare book room, my favorite place in the world.” Gianluca smiled in the gentle lighting, and Julia realized that he was handsome, his eyes the hue of espresso, with long lashes, and a mouththat looked soft. She hadn’t stood this close to any man since Mike, which threw her off-balance.

“Uh, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. I make excuses to come here, including boring hapless visitors. Well, thus ends library tour. Two whole rooms. We aim for quality, not quantity.” Gianluca straightened. “Would you like a lemonade? We can have some in the garden.”

“A garden?” Julia asked, surprised. “In alibrary?”

Julia sat at a round table amid a small, enclosed garden. Red geraniums, pink cosmos, and fresh green palms in terra-cotta pots lined the space, and white star jasmine like living stars covered the walls, giving off sweet fragrance. Sunshine flooded the space, but the table had a green canvas umbrella for shade. The garden’s far wall was a modern brick addition that held staff offices, and Gianluca had gone inside. Its square windows were cranked open, and the sounds of rapid Italian wafted from inside.

Julia took the opportunity to get her phone and check the selfies she’d taken outside the Uffizi, with Ballcap in the background. She scrolled through, but her heart sank. Ballcap’s back was turned away in them, so she couldn’t see his face or identify him. She sensed it was intentional, in that he didn’t want her to photograph him.

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