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Chapters (60)
  1. Praise for the novels of Peter Pezzelli
  2. Also by
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Dedication
  6. PART ONE
  7. CHAPTER 1
  8. CHAPTER 2
  9. CHAPTER 3
  10. CHAPTER 4
  11. CHAPTER 5
  12. CHAPTER 6
  13. CHAPTER 7
  14. CHAPTER 8
  15. CHAPTER 9
  16. CHAPTER 10
  17. CHAPTER 11
  18. CHAPTER 12
  19. CHAPTER 13
  20. CHAPTER 14
  21. CHAPTER 15
  22. CHAPTER 16
  23. CHAPTER 17
  24. CHAPTER 18
  25. CHAPTER 19
  26. CHAPTER 20
  27. CHAPTER 21
  28. CHAPTER 22
  29. CHAPTER 23
  30. PART TWO
  31. CHAPTER 24
  32. CHAPTER 25
  33. CHAPTER 26
  34. CHAPTER 27
  35. CHAPTER 28
  36. CHAPTER 29
  37. CHAPTER 30
  38. CHAPTER 31
  39. CHAPTER 32
  40. CHAPTER 33
  41. CHAPTER 34
  42. CHAPTER 35
  43. CHAPTER 36
  44. CHAPTER 37
  45. CHAPTER 38
  46. PART THREE
  47. CHAPTER 39
  48. CHAPTER 40
  49. CHAPTER 41
  50. CHAPTER 42
  51. CHAPTER 43
  52. CHAPTER 44
  53. CHAPTER 45
  54. CHAPTER 46
  55. CHAPTER 47
  56. CHAPTER 48
  57. CHAPTER 49
  58. CHAPTER 50
  59. CHAPTER 51
  60. 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.