As she lit up her once-a-week cigarette, hands shaking, I brushed a few crumbs from the letter and took it out of the envelope. It consisted of eight sheets of paper, all of them covered in Aunt Rose’s own handwriting, and if the date was correct, she had left it with Mr. Gallagher several years ago.
This is what it read:
My dearest girls,
You have often asked me about your mother, and I have never told you the truth. It was for your own good. I was afraid that if you knew what she was like, you would want to be just like her. But I do not wish to take it with me to the grave, so here they are, all the things I was afraid to tell you.
You know that Diane came to live with me when her parents and little brother died. But I never told you how they died. It was very sad, and a great shock for her, and I think she never got over it. It was a car accident in terrible holiday traffic, and Diane told me that they were having an argument, and that it was her fault for fighting with her brother. It was Christmas Eve. I think she never forgave herself. She would never open her presents. She was a very religious girl, much more than her old aunt, especially at Christmas. I wish I could have helped her, but in those days people did not run to doctors all the time.
Her great interest was genealogy. She believed that our family was descended from Italian nobility through the female line, and she told me that, before she died, my mother had told her a great secret. I thought it was very strange that my mother would tell her granddaughter something she never told me or Maria, her own daughters, and I never believed a word of it, but Diane was so stubborn and kept saying that we were descended from Shakespeare’s Juliet, and that there was a curse on our bloodline. She also said that was why poor Jim and I never had children, and why her parents and brother had to die. I never encouraged her when she talked like that, I just let her talk. After she died I kept thinking that I should have done something to help her, but that is too late now.
Poor Jim and I tried to make Diane finish her degree, but she was too restless. Before we knew it, she was off to Europe with her backpack, and the next thing I know she writes that she is getting married to some Italian professor. I did not go to the wedding. Poor Jim was very ill at the time, and after he died I did not feel like traveling. Now I regret that. Diane was all alone, having twins, and then after that, there was a terrible house fire that killed her husband, so I never even met him, poor soul.
I wrote many letters to her telling her to come home, but Diane did not want to, stubborn creature that she was, bless her heart. She had bought a house of her own, and she kept saying that she wanted to continue her husband’s research. She told me over the phone that he had spent all his life looking for a family treasure that could stop the curse, but I did not believe a word of it. I told her that it was very foolish to marry back into your own family, even if it was a very distant connection, but she said that she had to, because
I tried very hard to make her come home, just for a visit I said, and we had even bought tickets. But she was so busy with her research, and she kept saying that she was very close to finding the treasure, and that she had to see a man about an old ring. One morning I received a call from a police officer in Siena, who told me that there had been a dreadful accident, and that your poor mother was dead. He told me that you two were with your godparents, but that you were likely in danger, and that I must come and get you right away. When I arrived to pick you up, the police asked me if Diane had ever mentioned a man called Luciano Salimbeni, and this made me very afraid. They wanted me to stay for a hearing, but I was so afraid that I took you to the airport right away and flew home, without even waiting for the adoption papers to go through. I changed your names, too. I called Giulietta Julie, and Giannozza Janice. And instead of Tolomei, I gave you my name, Jacobs. I did not want some crazy Italian to come looking for you, or say that they wanted to adopt you. I even hired Umberto to protect you and keep an eye out for that Luciano Salimbeni. Fortunately, we never heard anything about him again.
I do not know much about what Diane was doing those years alone in Siena. But I think she found something very valuable, and that she left it behind in Siena, for you to find. I hope that if you ever find it, you will share it equally. She also owned a house, and I believe her husband was wealthy. If there is anything of value left for you in Siena, perhaps you will take care of dear Umberto, too?
It is very painful for me to say this, but I am not as rich as you think. I have been living on poor Jim’s pension, but when I die, there will be nothing left for you two, just debt. Maybe I should have told you, but I was never good with these things.
I wish I knew more about Diane’s treasure. She talked about it sometimes, but I did not listen. I thought it was just one of her crazy stories. But there is a man in the bank in Palazzo Tolomei who may be able to help you. I cannot for the life of me remember his name. He was your mother’s financial advisor, and I think he was fairly young, so maybe he is still alive.
If you decide to go, just remember that there are people in Siena who believe in the same stories your mother believed in. I wish I had paid attention when she told me all that. Do not tell anyone your real names, except the man in the bank. Maybe he can help you find the house. I would like you to go together. Diane would have wanted that. We should have gone years ago, but I was afraid something would happen to you.
Now you know that I left nothing for you to live on. But I hope that with this letter, at least you have a chance of finding what your mother left behind. I met with Mr. Gallagher this morning. I really should not have lived this long, there will be nothing left, not even the memories, because I never wanted you to know them. I was always afraid that you would run off like Diane and get yourselves into trouble. Now I know that you will find trouble wherever you are. I know what it means, the look in your eyes. Your mother had it, too. And I want you to know that I pray for you every day.
Umberto knows where the funeral instructions are kept.
God bless your innocent hearts!
Much love, Aunt Rose
V.III
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
Siena , A.D. 1340
TRAPPED IN HER ROOM at the very top of the Tolomei tower, Giulietta knew nothing of what was going on in the city below. She had been kept there ever since the day of Tebaldo’s funeral, and no one had been allowed to visit her. The window shutters had been nailed in place by one of the Tolomei guards, and food was delivered through a slit in the door, but that hardly mattered, since-for the longest time-she took none of it.
For the first few hours of her imprisonment, she had implored whoever could hear her through the door to let her out. “Kindest aunt!” she had begged, her teary cheek against the door, “please do not treat me this way! Remember whose daughter I am!… Dear cousins? Can you hear me?” But when no one had dared to respond, she had begun yelling at the guards instead, cursing them for obeying the orders of a devil in the guise of man.