She gave a tiny sigh. “Okay, you’re right. There’s just a massive amount of people here. I saw you talking to that boy. What’s his name?”

“Ian. He’s celebrating his college graduation with his parents.”

A smile brightened her face. “How wonderful. It’d be nice for you to have a friend on the tour.”

She was right, but hearing her suggest it only made me want to seek out an Italian bad boy on a bike. What was wrong with me? I thought of David’s text and knew Mom would freak. I’d promised to stay away from him, Connor, and Freda, but a few texts back and forth wouldn’t be a big deal. “Where’s Nonni?”

“Lighting a candle for your grandfather.”

“How come you never raised me Catholic or took me to church?”

The question popped out of my mouth and surprised us both. Guilt shone in my mother’s eyes, then got buried. “Because I never got anything out of it. Nonni dragged me to church every Sunday, rain or shine, not caring about vacations or sleepovers. And I don’t like the issues they push—the guilt, and not having women in the church—plus the sexual abuse scandals. I wanted you to grow up to make your own choices.”

It made logical sense, but if you weren’t given anything to start with, wasn’t it harder to decide what worked and what didn’t? “Nonni gets upset when we talk about it. She thinks I should receive communion and confirmation.”

“I don’t believe your soul should be dependent on rituals. But I do think church can be a safe haven to figure things out and be silent.”

I pushed on. “But you still never took me, even once. Even to try it.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” Her tone hardened a bit. “You could’ve gone with Nonni anytime. You preferred sleeping in on Sundays.”

“And you prefer work,” I shot back. “Money over religion, huh?”

She jerked back, glaring, and once again that wall shot up between us. The wall of misunderstanding and unspoken resentments that kept growing higher. Mom seemed to realize it too, but before she could say something else, the tour guide interrupted.

“Do I have my group?” she chirped merrily. She was a chic young brunette dressed in slim black pants and a white silk top. “We will move on to visit the famous Sistine Chapel. We’ll be passing through multiple corridors of exquisite paintings.” She held a stuffed pink daisy mounted on top of a long pole, and she waved it back and forth. “Remember to follow the flower. There are no flash photos or talking once we enter the chapel, so I will tell you all about it as we walk. Andiamo!”