Return to Umbria by David Wagner (best book series to read .txt) 📕

“Gina, this is Betta. You remember her from the funicular. Betta, Gina.”

“I was going to ask about her when I saw you at the juice bar, Rick, and then I was so upset yesterday morning that I didn’t ask then.”

Rick wondered if Betta had understood Gina’s rapid speaking style.

“How are you coping, Gina?”

“As well as can be expected, Rick. Thank you for asking. We decided to get out and see things rather than mope around the villa. My mother would have wanted it that way.” She rubbed her nose with her fingers to prevent a sniffle.

“Where’s Francine?”

She shook her head before pointing across the square. “She’s over there drinking a cappuccino and nursing a headache. She got completely trashed last night in Orvieto. I had to drive us back to the villa, in the dark and all those winding roads with her carrying on. Rick, it was terrifying.” She grasped Rick’s arm without thinking and quickly let it go, the move not lost on Betta.

Apparently Francine had not told Gina that she’d seen Rick in the outdoor cafe the previous afternoon. So he wouldn’t mention it either. “People show their grief in different ways.”

Gina snorted as if Rick had told a bad joke, bringing a surprised look to Betta’s face. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s in her to grieve at all.”

This was a new side to Gina. “That’s a pretty strong statement.”

She glanced at the other side of the square, perhaps to be sure that Francine was still well out of ear shot. “Well, Francine will be getting some part of my mother’s inheritance, given their friendship. I’m sure of it. Likely some guilt from the way she treated her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Years ago, when Francine was about to be engaged, my mother had an affair with the man. There was no engagement after Francine found out. My mom always said that the man wasn’t worth it, and that she saved Francine from a bad marriage, and Mom knew about bad marriages. But I think she felt guilty for what she’d done.”

Rick thought about what Francine had said about guilt while drinking her wine the previous afternoon. Guilt seemed to be a big issue in Arizona.

“So bottom line, Rick, Francine will manage her grief just fine. I think she’s now focused on the joys of being in Umbria, and I don’t mean the museums.”

Rick and Betta walked slowly toward the cathedral after saying their goodbyes to Gina.

“Were you able to get what she was saying? The woman talks fast and runs her words together.”

“You met her at a juice bar?”

Rick couldn’t tell if the question was mocking or serious. For sure it was annoying. “I forgot to mention that. When I was coming back from seeing Fabrizio the first time she was standing outside a bar. We exchanged a few words.”

“Oh.”

He decided not to explain Gina’s comments about her mother and Francine. If Betta didn’t understand them, it was her problem.

They crossed the piazza and went up the steps of the cathedral, then left the sunlight for the subdued darkness of its interior. After dipping hands into the stone font just inside the doorway and crossing themselves slowly, their eyes moved naturally to the altar before pulling back to take in the space in its entirety. Rick was pleased to spot what he regretted not seeing in the piazza outside: the columns that lined the nave had to be Roman. Over the centuries the Italians became masters at recycling building materials, and one of the most common examples was using Roman columns in churches. Besides the practical aspect of such re-use, there was also the symbolic message of Christianity taking the place of paganism. Italians loved symbolism. They walked to the front and sat in one of the pews. Betta pulled out her red guidebook and opened it to the pages on Todi. Rick looked around while she read silently.

“What should I know about the cathedral?” he said after a few minutes. “So far I like it. Nobody came in and ruined it with changes when Gothic architecture went out of fashion, thank goodness.” It was one of Rick’s pet peeves.

“To begin with, si vuole, it was built on the site of a Roman building.”

Rick laughed. “You have to love the Italian language. So if we wish to believe it, the guy who wrote the book won’t mind, even though it may not be true. Well, I for one am going to accept that we’re sitting on top of a Roman foundation.”

“I will too,” said Betta firmly.

She read the rest of the section about the cathedral while Rick turned at the appropriate times to see what was being described. The biggest surprise, they agreed, was the painting of the Last Judgment which covered the entire inside wall of the church entrance. Neither had noticed it behind them on the way in, but now they walked back toward the door to appreciate its power. Christ sat on a throne at the top with the blessed, while down below the writhing figures of the damned struggled vainly with grotesque devils pulling them into the inferno. The location was intentional, a warning to the faithful as they left the piety of the church for the temptations waiting outside its doors.

Rick stopped to zip his jacket before they started down the steps outside. Clouds had moved in, and with them a light but chilling wind. Betta pulled the light wool coat she was wearing tighter.

“Can I see the map in your book?” Rick asked. Betta passed it to him. “Unless you want to go to the Pinacoteca,” he said, holding the book open to the map page, “why don’t we go down one of these streets, get on one that clings to the side of the hill, then work our way up to Via Cavour?”

“And avoid encountering the American women?”

He chose to ignore the inference of the question, as well as the tone. “Not just that. It will give