I knew the tour had cool perks, but this was completely lit. After we arrived by bus, a full staff served champagne and let us explore the gardens. Nonni let me have a sip, which tasted like bubbly sparkles in my mouth and was not as harsh as soda. When they called us in, we stepped into the main drawing room, decorated in rich red and gleaming gold. Expensive-looking oil paintings hung on the walls, and plush red carpet cushioned my feet. Tall-backed red chairs were set up around like mini thrones. I felt the rush of royalty and hushed secrets in the air.

But the big moment was the ballroom.

I caught my breath as I stepped onto marble floors and blinked at the massive, glittering chandelier dripping with crystals. For a moment, I felt like Cinderella arriving at the ball, and a girlish twinge of excitement propelled me. I might not be the princess sort, but it was definitely cool to pretend for a bit. A full-size orchestra played soft music on an elevated stage, and tables with crisp linens and sparkly china were scattered around. Crushed burgundy velvet curtains hid the large windows, but there was one toward the back that opened up onto a stone balcony. I caught the gardens in the distance.

The place was this mix of really old with new, and everything had a touch of class and history. I’d never really been to any formal dances or dinners before, other than when Mom won an award for successful businesswoman of the year, and my mom’s second cousin’s wedding, but I’d been only seven, so that didn’t count.

I wanted to sit with Ian and his family, but Mom had already picked out a table, so I ended up with Cherry and Laura, Dana and Steve, and a Japanese family with a young boy I hadn’t met yet. I pegged him for about ten years old and wondered if he was already bored with the tour. There was a ton of history and adult stuff in Italy. It wasn’t as if he could hit Disney World or a water park, and when I was his age, I was obsessed with eating only pasta or chicken nuggets, as Mom loved to remind me.