At the sound of her voice, Giancarlo straightened up and turned away from the railing to look at her.The contrast in her attire from when he had seen her the previous day out by the track was quite pronounced. Though still officially spring, it was a comfortably warm night, and Patricia was wearing a light summer dress, and wearing it exceedingly well. As she came over to him, Giancarlo could not help but notice how the fabric of the dress moved with her, accentuating the slender figure beneath in a very pleasant way.

“Ciao, Patrizia,” he said.

“I was beginning to think that you decided not to show tonight,” she said. “What are you doing, hiding out here all by yourself?”

“Watching,” Giancarlo replied, nodding over his shoulder to the ocean, “and waiting.”

“Watching and waiting for what?”

“There,” said Giancarlo after a moment, pointing to the east, where a faint, thin glow had just appeared on the horizon.

“What is it, the moon?” said Patricia, gazing out with him.

“Yes,” he said. “I love watching it rise, especially when it comes up over the ocean, the way the moonlight dances on the water as it gets higher and higher in the sky. It’s quite magical.”

Patricia turned her eyes to him and smiled. “My, I didn’t think you were the type to notice such things,” she said playfully.

“I notice a lot more than I let on,” he replied.

“So, tell me,” said Patricia. “What are your plans for the summer? Did you make up your mind yet about your prospective Italian student?”

“As a matter of fact I did,” said Giancarlo. “I decided this afternoon that I would call him tomorrow and tell him no. I’m really just not in the mood for it right now.”

“No? Oh, that’s too bad,” she said with a pout. “When you said that you were thinking it over yesterday, I was sure you were going to give him a chance. I was hoping you would.” Then, with a mischievous gleam in her eye she added, “Maybe you’ll reconsider. It would be a nice gesture to love, you know. Just think, what’s to become of that poor young man now?”

Giancarlo was considering how best to reply when he saw their host walking across the veranda in their direction. A burly, jovial man, Henry Sheffield gave the two of them a warm smile as he drew close.

“Well, there you are at last, Giancarlo,” said Sheffield, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Benvenuto a casa nostra. Did I say that correctly?”

“Perfectly,” said Giancarlo with a little laugh. “But you still need to work a little more on your accent.You haven’t quite gotten it yet.”