I looked up to see an attractive man in dark turtle-neck and slacks and a nice tan suede jacket, wearing lovely Italian leather loafers with socks. I like men to wear socks with their loafers. "Please," I said. "Help yourself. I'm just leaving. I'll pay my bill and be out of your way in a minute or two."
"Thanks," he said, pulling out the chair opposite mine and sitting down. "Rather difficult to get a table in the Piazza Navona this time of the evening. Have we met? You look familiar to me," he said.
Oh right, I thought. The universal come-on. And when it came right down to it, too many strangers had been asking to sit with me since I'd arrived in Italy.
But when I looked at him more carefully, I realized he looked familiar to me, too. It took a second or two before I placed him.
"I don't think we were formally introduced," I said. "But our paths crossed in the carabinieri station in Arezzo."
"Yes," he said after a pause. "That's right. You were with that fellow—what's his name?—Lucca. Massimo Lucca. I hope it wasn't anything serious."
"No, it wasn't." Merely a friend in jail, I thought. "And you? I hope it wasn't serious for you, either."
"No," he said. He wasn't being any more forthcoming on the subject than I was, which was fine with me.
"It was nice to meet you," I said, handing the waiter some money.
"Please," he said. "Permit me to buy you a drink."
"I don't think so," I said. "But thank you."
"How can I persuade you?" he said. "I really dislike drinking alone."
I stood up and was about to decline a second time, when I saw someone come over to Dottie's table across the way. I sat down again. "Well maybe just one," I said. The man at Dottie's table sat down, too. Dottie had phoned someone as she left my hotel. Was that someone there now?
"Terrific," my new companion said, signaling the waiter again.
"A glass of white wine would be lovely," I said. Across the way, Angelo stood up and looked as if he was going to punch the newcomer out. In a split second, the stranger was behind Angelo and had pulled the young man's arm up behind his back in what I've been assured, by people who know these kinds of things, is called a chicken wing hammerlock. Within seconds, Angelo was out in the square. The man came back and sat down.
"So," my new companion said. "Is this your first visit to Rome?"
"No," I said. Dottie dug a handkerchief out of her bag and blew her nose. I couldn't see the tears from this distance, but I was sure there were some.
"Of course it isn't," he said. "Your Italian is too good. It was a stupid question, a rather prosaic opening line. You'll no doubt have noticed I'm a little rusty when it comes to meeting attractive women. I'm Nicola Marzolini, by the way."
"That's okay," I said. "I'm a little rusty at opening lines myself. I'm Lara McClintoch. And thanks for the compliment." The stranger at Dottie's table poured himself a glass of wine and chugged it down. The one at mine went on talking.
"You're welcome. I believe then, that the next conversational gambit is yours, signora."
"Okay," I said. "So what was your business in the police station?"
He burst out laughing. "You American women are so direct. I like that. I like you."
"But you didn't answer the question."
"It's no secret," he said, smiling. He had a really lovely smile, not as beautiful as Antonio's perhaps, but still, rather attractive. "I act as a consultant to the police on some matters. Now you will no doubt ask me which matters these might be, so I'll tell you. They ask for my professional expertise in the field of antiquities. I'm a curator for hire, as it were. I assist museums on a contract basis, and I work with the police, as a public-minded citizen. Now, of course, it's your turn. What do you do? Why are you here? And what were you doing in the police station?"
Warning bells were clanging away in my head at the mention of antiquities, but he looked perfectly innocent. "I'm an antique dealer from Toronto. I'm here on a buying trip for my shop."
"Interesting. What kinds of things are you shopping for?"
"Mainly I've been shopping in Tuscany. The Tuscan farmhouse look is very hot right now."
"So I understand. You're not into antiquities, I hope."
"Not if I can avoid it," I said.
"Good," he said. "I will then be able to spare you my lecture on how the antiquities trade is destroying culture."
"Sorry I have to miss that one," I said.
He laughed again. He had a really nice laugh, spontaneous and genuine. He was, when it came right down to it, a very attractive man.
"I don't suppose I could talk you into having dinner with me. I hate eating alone even more than I hate drinking alone. There I go again," he said. "Another horrible line, rife with implied insult. What I'm trying to say is I'd be delighted if you would have dinner with me."
Before answering, I checked out Dottie's table again. They were both still there.
"Thank you," I said. "I'd like to have dinner with you."
"Shall I pick the restaurant?" he said.
"What's wrong with right here?" I said.
"I know a much better place near the Campo dei Fiori. We can walk."
I was about to protest, but then Dottie and her new dinner companion got up and started to leave. There didn't seem to be any point in hanging around the piazza anymore. Nicola tossed a bill onto the table, took my arm, and we were off. Using Nicola as a shield of sorts, I had a quick look at the mystery man of Dottie's as they left the square. I didn't recognize him, but he and Dottie seemed to be close. He handed her his handkerchief as they went by, and she blotted her eyes.
Nicola chose a pleasant restaurant where he seemed to be well-known, and where, despite the lineup outside, we were seated at the bar immediately and at a table a few minutes later.
"How did you manage that?" I said.
"I eat here a lot," he said. "It's not far from my place. The maitre d' is a cousin, which doesn't hurt. The gnocchi are wonderful, by the way, and I'd recommend the steak or any of the seafood."
We spent a very pleasant evening together. We talked about art, music, theater, all the subjects I love to talk about. He told me he painted for relaxation. I told him I had no hobbies except my store. He flirted a little. I flirted back, just a little. It was altogether a rather wonderful evening.
"Can I interest you in a nightcap?" he said. "At my place?"
I smiled. "Thank you, but I think I have to say no."
"You're spoken for, aren't you?" he said.
"Yes, I am," I said.
"I thought so," he said. "I don't know why. No ring, but I just thought you were."
"I hope you don't think I've been unfair here. I've had a wonderful evening."
"I have, too, and I don't want it to end just yet," he said. "So please, come and have a nightcap. Despite what you have heard about Italian men, I promise to behave myself. What does this partner of yours do?"
"He's a sergeant in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
"Really?" he said. "A Mountie? Then I really must behave myself. How daring of you. Or is it public spirited?"
I laughed. "He's a really fine person," I said. "I grow fonder of him all the time."
"Fond," he said. "Interesting word, but I think I won't probe. Speaking of police," he said, "I don't believe you ever answered my question about why you were in the Arezzo carabinieri station."
"I was checking on an antiquity," I said. "As you know, you can't be too careful."
"Very wise," he said. "There was a beautiful one there, by the way. I was called in to have a look at it. They caught some woman red-handed with it. An Etruscan hydria. You know what I mean by hydria, don't you? Water jug with three handles? Yes? Stunning."