Ziggy had left her a change of clothes - a pair of linen pants, a pink tee-shirt and along with the toiletries she’d picked up at the Vienna train station, RJ managed to put a dent in her self-respect in the blue tiled bathroom, braiding her dark hair as she came out of the bedroom.

The smell of eggs in butter, some sort of fresh bread baking and roasted meat drew her downstairs to the kitchen.

She’d stepped back in time, maybe a half-century to a grand eat-in kitchen under a brick archway between the kitchen and long dining table.

In the kitchen area, a patterned orange and blue tile spanned the wall, with white-washed cupboards that stretched on either side of a massive plaster hood. Below it, pots sat on a six-burner range. And next to that, a massive wood-fed, white-washed brick oven spoke of simpler days. A set of stainless-steel double ovens banked the other end of the cabinets. A spray of yellow roses sat in a blue and white tile pot on the black granite countertop and polished terracotta tile cooled her bare feet.

The place should be in a picture book of villas to love in Italy.

Tessa stood at a long roughhewn worktable that looked about a century old, sturdy, with stories etched in its worn top. She kneaded dough in a bowl, an apron around her middle, her hair held back, humming.

Hana sat across from her on a wooden chair, eating a bowl of what looked like corn porridge, raspberries and honey stirred in. A giant piece of bread lay on a plate, smothered in honey. She held a crayon, and was drawing a picture with one hand, her hand gripping the bread with the other. It looked like a kitty—round face, pointed ears, whiskers.

Tessa looked up. “Buongiorno!” She picked up a towel and wiped her floured hands. “Ziggy has left already. She told me she’d be back in a few hours.”

“Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know. She never really tells me. I know she works as a tourist guide, but sometimes her work confuses me.”

RJ said nothing, came over and slid onto a chair beside Hana, who looked up at her. Someone had freshly braided her hair, given her a new dress and she glanced up at Tessa who smiled, winked.

“I have fresh polenta with raspberries, if you’d like some.” Tessa left the dough to grab an earthenware bowl from the shelf. She ladled polenta from a pot into it, dropped some fresh butter in the middle and added raspberries and some fresh cream. Then she walked over to the table and set it in front of RJ. “Buon appetito.”