Carter knew better than to wait around, so he turned and walked off before the boy’s mother came out and sounded the alarm that a suspicious-looking American was prowling the neighborhood. When he came to the next house up the road and walked up to the door, he stopped and stood there, wondering what he should do. It was ridiculous, he told himself, to continue on in this way. He was wasting his time. There were probably dozens of places around the town with nice views of the surrounding landscape. Elena might live in any one of them.

Perhaps it would be better, he brooded, if he just turned around and went back to the hotel to think things over. It seemed the most sensible thing to do, and he was about to go on his way when the door suddenly opened and an adolescent girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen years appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a set of earphones, and her head nodded back and forth to the rhythm of whatever music she was listening to. Upon looking up and seeing Carter when she went to step outside, the girl gave a shriek and jumped back against the door frame.

Certain that disaster lay in wait for him—perhaps in the form of an angry father—Carter apologized at once for having startled her.

“Mi dispiace, signorina,” he apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“O, Dio,” the girl laughed good-naturedly, putting a hand to her chest. “My heart! I thought I was going to faint!”

Then, after taking a dramatic moment to catch her breath, the girl smiled, and looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

Carter saw no alternative but to bluff it out and then be on his way with whatever dignity he could retain.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, “but I was just wondering if Elena was home.”

“Who?” said the girl, her face showing no recognition of the name.

“Elena,” Carter repeated softly, knowing full well that it was futile. He was ready to just turn around and leave when, to his surprise, the girl suddenly clicked her tongue and tugged one of the earphones from her ear.

“These stupid things,” she huffed. Then, smiling again, “I’m sorry, but who did you say you are looking for?”

“Elena,” Carter said with no more hope than he had the first time.

“You mean Elena Simonetta?” said the girl.

Carter’s heart leaped in his chest. A last name! Was it possible? Could it be hers?

“Yes,” he found himself saying at once.

“You have the wrong house,” said the girl, shaking her head. “The Simonettas live in the big house two doors up.”