Chapter 1

“I will not take some goddamn bus to Lucca!” Beatrice declared, challenging anyone in the little group to defy her. The Leaning Tower of Pisa loomed in the background, tourists milling about, posing at slants for pictures to send back home.

“Beatrice, honey, be reasonable....” Gwenivere soothed.

“Reasonable? I am being reasonable! It’s the rest of you who’ve lost your minds! What the hell are you thinking?” She waved one slim arm dramatically toward the murky sun low in the sky. “It’s going to be dark in an hour and you all want to climb on some stupid dilapidated bus and rumble on down to Lucca in the dark?”

“How do you know it’ll be dilapidated?” Lizzie asked, taunting.

Beatrice laughed ruefully, “It’s Italy for chrissakes! All the buses are dilapidated.”

Lizzie smiled slyly, glancing over at Dante who shrugged and sauntered away from the group.

“Lady Beatrice, if you will only calm yourself for a moment and deliberate
upon the infinite possibilities of such a charming excursion through the Italian countryside rich with lore and.....” Trollope began.

“Piss off, Tony!” she flashed. “The countryside ain’t so charming on some goddamn contrivance without a bathroom. Hell. The trains in this country are bad enough. I’m sure there’s no bathroom on the buses. And I am not going to put myself through that in order to see a bunch of goddamn medieval castles and shit.”

Trollope allowed himself an imperceptible raise of an eyebrow. Lady Beatrice, though one of his most charming companions, did, in fact, often display a most unladylike propensity for colorful language. He knew that he should be accustomed to her momentary emotional outbursts, for indeed, that was usually all they were; however, she still managed to take him aback when she flashed such explicatives in his direction.

“Hey,” Dante took a few steps back toward her, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to go. But for me, who knows when I’ll be in Italy again? I’d like to see the town.”

Beatrice glared at him, “Easy for you to say! All I’m asking is that you people give me just a little consideration....”

“Sweetie,” Electra began, her attempt at a motherly show of support straining her Botox, “we all sympathize with you. Lord knows it’s no picnic for me to hop on dirty old bus and rattle about the countryside for God knows how long....”

“It’s 57 minutes,” Rex interrupted, grinning stupidly. “At least that’s what the schedule said down at the train station."

Electra ignored him, taking a moment to gaze at the tilting tower back dropped by the blue sky only found in Italy. “I have to agree with Dante,” she smiled over at him, “as strange as that sounds. But we don’t know when we’ll be back in Italy again. The food. The people. The fashion. Actually, there is that show in Milan next fall that I must remind my people to...”

“Okay, Mom, enough,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, sighing. Why she thought it had been a good idea to bring her mother on this trip, she’ll never know. She musta been crazy! “You can pretend all you want to care about my welfare, but we all know it’s always all about you.”

“Of course it is,” Electra smiled serenely, laughing softly as she glanced around the little group fidgeting. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my precious Baby Girl.”

“Cut the crap, Mom.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Dante strolled back to stand between the two women. “Like you said, Bea, it’s getting dark. I for one didn’t come to Italy to listen to you two go at it.”

“Oh, isn’t that rich!” Beatrice flashed. “I just don’t understand how you people can be so cold and unfeeling and....” Beatrice felt the telltale shaking of her lower lip, her face tighten. She was not going to let herself cry, goddammit! No way was she going to give them all the satisfaction of seeing her break. To hell with them all!

“Listen, Bea,” Gwenivere began. “I don’t need to see another stupid medieval city. I’m tired too and don’t mind taking the train back to Florence with you if you want the company.”

“There, you see?” Dante grinned. “Problem solved. You two can take the train back to Florence and the rest of us will head off to Lucca before hell freezes over.”

“I can’t believe you!” Beatrice cried, the tears spilling out in spite of her best effort. Why the hell does he always do this? “How can you belittle me, demean me at a time like this? How can you just dismiss me that way? Telling me to just go off with Gwenivere like that? Abandon me like that?”

Dante shook his head, “Hey, Honey, I was just kidding around. Trying to lighten the mood.”

“Well, it’s not light!”

“Yeah, it’s getting darker and darker,” Lizzie piped in. “And I for one am not sticking around for the Marriage Drama,” She turned round, slipping her arm through Rex’s, “You comin?”

Eyeing the group nervously, Rex ran his hand through his sandy mane, “Sure, I guess...”

“Oh, just leave me!” Beatrice cried, wiping a tear from her cheek, and then waving her hand Lucca-ward, dismissing them. “All of you, just get the hell out of here!”

“Beatrice,” Dante took her aside, “simmer down. We’re in a public place. A foreign country here. No need for the histrionics. Just go with Gwen back to Florence and I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Fuck you!” Beatrice cried, yanking her arm away from his.

“Lady Beatrice,” Trollope soothed, alarmed at his friend’s upset, “I too would forfeit the journey to Lucca to accompany you if this would help to ameliorate your distress.”

“Hey, guys?” Rex called back, “Can we get going now? It really is.....

“ARRRGGGGG!!!! ARRRGGGHHHH!!!! ARRRGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The screams rang out into the crowded square.

Turning round, Beatrice watched in horror as a dark limp figure fell from the tower, landing with a horrible thunk on the grassy lawn.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, glancing round at the group, before kicking off her stilettos and running toward the crowd which had quickly gathered around the fallen body.