some reason it had never occurred to me that my first duty upon arrival must be to find their graves, and I felt a warm wave of gratitude towards Peppo for helping me do the right thing.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, squeezing his hand, which was still resting on my shoulder.
“It was a great tragedy the way they died,” he said, shaking his head, “and that all Patrizio’s work was lost in the fire. He had a beautiful farm in Malamerenda—all gone. After the funeral your mother bought a little house near Montepulciano and lived there alone with the twins—with you and your sister—but she was never the same. She came to put flowers on his grave every Sunday, but”—he paused to pull a handkerchief from his pocket—“she was never happy again.”
“Wait a minute—” I stared at the dates on my parents’ graves. “My father died before my mother? I always thought they died together—” But even as I spoke, I could see that the dates confirmed the new truth; my father had died more than two years before my mother. “What fire?”
“Someone—no, I shouldn’t say that—” Peppo frowned at himself. “There was a fire, a terrible fire. Your father’s farm burned down. Your mother was lucky; she was in Siena, shopping, with you girls. It was a great, great tragedy. I would have said that God held his hand over her, but then two years later—”
“The car accident,” I muttered.
“Well—” Peppo dug the toe of his shoe into the ground. “I don’t know the truth. Nobody knows the truth. But”—he finally met my eyes—“I always suspected that the Salimbenis had a hand in it.”
I didn’t know what to say to this. I pictured Eva Maria and her suitcase full of clothes sitting in my hotel room. She had been so kind to me, so eager to make friends.
“There was a young man,” Peppo went on, “Luciano Salimbeni. He was a troublemaker. There were rumors. I don’t want to—” Peppo glanced at me nervously. “The fire. The fire that killed your father. They say it was not an accident. They say someone wanted to murder him and destroy his research. It was terrible. Such a beautiful house. But youknow, I think your mother saved something from the house. Something important. Documents. She was afraid to talk about it, but after the fire, she began to ask strange questions about … things.”
“What kind of things?”
“All kinds. I didn’t know the answers. She asked me about the Salimbenis. About secret tunnels underground. She wanted to find a grave. It was something to do with the Plague.”
“The … bubonic plague?”
“Yes, the big one. In 1348.” Peppo cleared his throat, not comfortable with the subject. “You see, your mother believed that there is an old curse that is still haunting the Tolomeis and the Salimbenis. And she was trying to find out how to stop it. She was obsessed with this idea. I wanted to believe her, but—” He pulled at his shirt collar as if he suddenly felt hot. “She was so determined. She was convinced that we were all cursed. Death. Destruction. Accidents. ‘A plague on both our houses’ … that is what she used to say.” He sighed deeply, reliving the pain of the past. “She always quoted Shakespeare. She took it very seriously …
Romeo and Juliet
. She thought that it had happened right here, in Siena. She had a theory—” Peppo shook his head dismissively. “She was obsessed with it. I don’t know. I am not a professor. All I know is that there was a man, Luciano Salimbeni, who wanted to find a treasure—”
I could not help myself, I had to ask, “What kind of treasure?”
“Who knows?” Peppo threw up his arms. “Your father spent all his time researching old legends. He was always talking about lost treasures. But your mother told me about something once—oh, what did she call it?—I think she called it Juliet’s Eyes. I don’t know what she meant, but I think it was very valuable, and I think it was what Luciano
“Thank you,” I said quietly, squeezing his hand, which was still resting on my shoulder.
“It was a great tragedy the way they died,” he said, shaking his head, “and that all Patrizio’s work was lost in the fire. He had a beautiful farm in Malamerenda—all gone. After the funeral your mother bought a little house near Montepulciano and lived there alone with the twins—with you and your sister—but she was never the same. She came to put flowers on his grave every Sunday, but”—he paused to pull a handkerchief from his pocket—“she was never happy again.”
“Wait a minute—” I stared at the dates on my parents’ graves. “My father died before my mother? I always thought they died together—” But even as I spoke, I could see that the dates confirmed the new truth; my father had died more than two years before my mother. “What fire?”
“Someone—no, I shouldn’t say that—” Peppo frowned at himself. “There was a fire, a terrible fire. Your father’s farm burned down. Your mother was lucky; she was in Siena, shopping, with you girls. It was a great, great tragedy. I would have said that God held his hand over her, but then two years later—”
“The car accident,” I muttered.
“Well—” Peppo dug the toe of his shoe into the ground. “I don’t know the truth. Nobody knows the truth. But”—he finally met my eyes—“I always suspected that the Salimbenis had a hand in it.”
I didn’t know what to say to this. I pictured Eva Maria and her suitcase full of clothes sitting in my hotel room. She had been so kind to me, so eager to make friends.
“There was a young man,” Peppo went on, “Luciano Salimbeni. He was a troublemaker. There were rumors. I don’t want to—” Peppo glanced at me nervously. “The fire. The fire that killed your father. They say it was not an accident. They say someone wanted to murder him and destroy his research. It was terrible. Such a beautiful house. But youknow, I think your mother saved something from the house. Something important. Documents. She was afraid to talk about it, but after the fire, she began to ask strange questions about … things.”
“What kind of things?”
“All kinds. I didn’t know the answers. She asked me about the Salimbenis. About secret tunnels underground. She wanted to find a grave. It was something to do with the Plague.”
“The … bubonic plague?”
“Yes, the big one. In 1348.” Peppo cleared his throat, not comfortable with the subject. “You see, your mother believed that there is an old curse that is still haunting the Tolomeis and the Salimbenis. And she was trying to find out how to stop it. She was obsessed with this idea. I wanted to believe her, but—” He pulled at his shirt collar as if he suddenly felt hot. “She was so determined. She was convinced that we were all cursed. Death. Destruction. Accidents. ‘A plague on both our houses’ … that is what she used to say.” He sighed deeply, reliving the pain of the past. “She always quoted Shakespeare. She took it very seriously …
Romeo and Juliet
. She thought that it had happened right here, in Siena. She had a theory—” Peppo shook his head dismissively. “She was obsessed with it. I don’t know. I am not a professor. All I know is that there was a man, Luciano Salimbeni, who wanted to find a treasure—”
I could not help myself, I had to ask, “What kind of treasure?”
“Who knows?” Peppo threw up his arms. “Your father spent all his time researching old legends. He was always talking about lost treasures. But your mother told me about something once—oh, what did she call it?—I think she called it Juliet’s Eyes. I don’t know what she meant, but I think it was very valuable, and I think it was what Luciano
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