at a crossroads. Ensuring assistance from a local may make all the difference in your quest. So do tell me, what is your father’s name?’
The name reverberated around in her head several times before it tripped onto her tongue. She looked down at the table, where her hands rested, pale and cold, upon the chequered tablecloth. ‘His name is Antonio Graziano.’
While Gracie looked back up at Luca, her eyes beseeched him, glittering with desperate hope that perhaps he was the answer to her prayers. Something in her engaging face, in her tense body, made Luca truly wish that the name would mean something to him. But unfortunately it did not.
‘A good, strong name,’ he said, knowing his kind words did nothing to heal her disappointment. The anticipation leaked from her body as she shrank back into her chair.
Well, know the man or not, he still owed her. This woman had delivered his Mila back to him in one piece and he had to repay her with more than a hot lunch.
‘Like it or not, I am going to help you, Gracie Lane,’ he said. The smile that spread across her lovely face was so bright that it dazzled him. He felt it deep down in places that had not made themselves felt in a good long while. It surprised him. She surprised him.
She’d had her wallet stolen and she had laughed! Sarina would have ranted and raved and shouted the piazza down. Mila would have emulated. Bedlam would have ensued, and, as always, he would have had to save the day.
Yet this curiosity before him had laughed. Her day had not needed to be saved. She just went on regardless. And he had been utterly surprised.
Luca had had enough surprises in his life that he thought he had become immune to their effect, but apparently he had not. And he quite liked the fact that he was not so impervious after all.
He further surprised himself by pronouncing, ‘I…we are heading back home to my villa this afternoon. Why don’t you come with us? I have facilities there to help you in your search.’
‘No. Thank you but no.’ Gracie shook her head, her dark curls swishing about her ears. Then she shrugged. ‘Today is to be my last day in Rome.’
Luca finally understood the full measure of her hopelessness. He knew what hopelessness felt like. For the sake of his family he had beaten it down. But this girl had nobody near and dear to her to help her do that.
‘I assume you have an Italian passport, since your father was born here?’ His words came as a question.
‘I do.’
‘Then you can stay in Italy as long as it takes for you to find your father.’
She blinked at him several times. ‘Officially, yes. Practically, not a chance. This is it for me. No more time. No more money. No more chances.’
‘And if you had the means to stay?’
‘Then I would stick around for as long as it took to track him down.’ Her voice was measured, her gaze cautious and her top teeth bit down on her lower lip.
It was enough to distract from his burgeoning idea. ‘As I said earlier,’ he continued, dragging his eyes back to her guarded gaze, ‘Mila’s language skills have been neglected for far too long. I believe she could benefit from having a live-in English tutor and I would like you to take the position.’
Her mouth popped open and she remained speechless. Before she had the chance to say no, he spelt it out for her. ‘You can school Mila in English and in return I will help you find your father.’
There, he thought, that’s an offer she can’t refuse.
‘What are you?’ she asked. ‘My knight in shining armour?’
Luca remembered another time he had been called the same. Once, a few years before, by his younger brother. But where Gracie was looking at him with something akin to awe, his brother’s tone had been bitter and accusing. Luca blanked out the image, much preferring to focus on the much more agreeable image before him now.
‘Not at all,’ he insisted. ‘It seems a reasonable bargain to me.’
‘But I am not teacher material, Luca,’ she said with a hand on her heart. ‘I am a casino croupier by trade. I could teach Mila odds. I could teach her how to flip a coin. Heck, I could even teach her to count cards if that tickled your fancy. I have no experience teaching English as a second language.’
Luca was having none of it. She was a stubborn one so he had to try another tack. ‘The truth is, Mila has taken to you,’ he said.
Gracie flapped a hand in front of her face. ‘That’s nothing. Kids always gravitate to me. I’m the one who ends up keeping the kids entertained at weddings. Must be the fact that I know many naughty songs.’
Luca could not help but smile. ‘Nevertheless, Mila hasn’t taken to any strangers in a long while, especially those who threaten to steal my time. It is time for her to let someone new into her social circle, especially since she will be starting school next year. This arrangement would be good for all concerned. It’s not personal, Gracie. It’s strictly business.’
Gracie watched him with her head cocked on the side, her bright blue eyes clear and her expression open, and then she burst into laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ Luca asked.
‘Do you mean to sound like a character from The Godfather, or is “it’s business, not personal” just another essentially Italian thing?’
Luca had no idea what she was talking about. ‘I’ve never seen the film, sorry.’
‘You’re kidding me?’
He shook his head and wondered if he had somehow blown it. But her smile only grew. Whatever he had accidentally said, it had worked.
‘OK. I’ll do it. Your Mila will be speaking like a little Aussie before you know it.’
He released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Wonderful,’ he said, surprised anew at how very much he had hoped she would agree. ‘I know I should have asked before even making the offer, but I’m sure you understand I will need some sort of résumé and references.’
Gracie dived into her backpack and after some squirrelling about pulled out a slightly crumpled two-page résumé. She handed it over with a shrug. ‘I had it with me today just in case. If I decided to slog it out for another couple of weeks, I would have had to get a job in a pub, or something…’
‘Well, Ms Lane,’ Luca said after making sure there were a couple of phone numbers he could call, ‘it seems that the possible pub has lost out to “or something”.’
‘Papa!’ Mila squealed as she bundled back to the table.
Luca grabbed her up as she raced towards them, plonking her onto his lap. He knew he was using her as some sort of shield, a promise to the woman before him that Mila was the only thing between them, though he had a mounting feeling that wasn’t entirely true. If he could reunite father and daughter, there was an undeniable symmetry in the idea that he could not ignore.
‘Papa, I ate tiramisu and cassata,’ his little girl gushed.
‘You
