Chapters (60)
- Praise for the novels of Peter Pezzelli
- Also by
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- PART ONE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- PART TWO
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- PART THREE
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- CHAPTER 45
- CHAPTER 46
- CHAPTER 47
- CHAPTER 48
- CHAPTER 49
- CHAPTER 50
- CHAPTER 51
- EPILOGUE
“So tell me,” said Giancarlo, forcing a smile for their benefit. “Where else in L’Italia did you two travel?”
Later, after his two visitors had gone on their way, Giancarlo showered and dressed, intending to go about his business the rest of the day. There were in the house a number of long-neglected plumbing and repair issues crying for his attention, and Giancarlo had decided some time ago to devote the beginning of his summer vacation to addressing them. Not that he was at all handy when it came to this particular line of endeavor. To the contrary, he knew next to nothing when it came to home repairs. His plan for the start of that day had been to peruse the yellow pages for a contractor to handle these chores for him.
Although he tried his utmost to focus himself on the pressing needs of his domicile, Giancarlo found his thoughts inexorably drawn to the kitchen and to the small package still resting unopened on the table. It seemed that no matter where he went in the house, he felt its tug, and he passed the morning in a state of distraction. By midday it was clear to him that there was no point in trying to ignore the inevitable, so he sat down at last at the table and ripped open the package.
Inside, carefully tucked within thick layers of packing material, Giancarlo found a familiar cloth pouch. He held it for a moment, considering its soft, slightly frayed material before loosening the cord that held it closed. He turned the pouch over, and out into his hand slid the pocket watch he knew he would find inside. Giancarlo sat there for a time, brooding over the timepiece, running his fingers over its gold cover, etched with a delicate design. He opened the watch and regarded the face, which displayed a young couple standing by a horse drinking from a well. Once upon a time, when the watch was in working order and was wound properly, it would play a tune while the man bowed to the woman and the horse dipped its head to the water. A turn of the knob on top produced no such result, confirming his suspicion that the watch was still broken, as it had been for many years.