Free Unwanted Stars by Melissa Brown Page A

her hell, make her pay attention, keep her on her toes. It's always been our dynamic. And I have to admit that I kinda stopped feeling bad about that a long time ago.
    "Right. If ."
    "How are you, Mother dear?" I asked, twirling my hair with my finger.
    "I finally heard back from Poetry Magazine. They're going to publish two of my poems."
    "Mom, that's awesome!" Almost a year ago she submitted several of her poems, hoping to see them in print. Poetry Magazine was the magazine that all poets hoped to be featured in. This was huge for her.
    "Thanks," she said. I could tell she was grinning from ear to ear, but then she cleared her throat and her tone of voice changed. "Oh, and I spoke with Nan. She and Granddad are doing well. I was surprised to hear that their granddaughter has yet to visit..."
    "Mom," I groaned. "I will, I promise. But I'm kinda in the middle of a huge tour. I can't exactly get on a train back to London." I couldn't hide the irritation in my voice. I just started this job for God's sake!
    "I know, but...honey, please go. It's been so long."
    "When this tour ends, I promise. Seriously."
    "I trust you."
    "How is Gemma doing?" I asked in my best British accent.
    "Your grandmother is just fine. Up to her old tricks," she said with a laugh. "She has her book club and now she's volunteering at a winery."
    "She keeps busy. That's important."
    "I agree. Give her a kiss for me when you go, all right?" She paused. "I miss my mum."
    "Will do. I really should go though. I have to meet the tour group for dinner in ten."
    "Oh wow, alright, honey. You take care now. Be safe."
    "You got it. Love you."

    The musky scent of cologne filled the hotel lobby. Our tour members were freshly showered and ready for dinner at Ditirambo , a small restaurant with beamed ceilings and stone arches. Every time we visit Rome, Jordan Tours rents the tiny restaurant so that our tour members can have one private dinner just for them in an authentic Italian restaurant. The owners of Ditirambo were thrilled to get this kind of business for their small, family-owned establishment. And Anabelle said the food was divine.
    When we walked through the doors of the the bleak and almost dark restaurant, our tour members looked confused.
    "Don't judge a book," Anabelle warned. "Some of the best food in Rome is in little places like this."
    She then walked up to the owner, giving kisses on each of his cheeks. "Bueno Sera, Signore."
    He nodded with a large smile.
    "Benvenuto," he said welcoming us. "Si prega di avere un seggio."
    "Have a seat, everyone," Anabelle said with a smile, translating with ease.
    "Si, si," the owner said. "Ah, forgive, please. My English is not so good. But I try."
    Members of the tour nodded and smiled at the tall man with salt and pepper hair. His skin was tan, his posture bent slightly at the waist. Something told me he was used to standing over a counter, rolling dough, creating delectable dishes filled with garlic and oregano. The restaurant may have looked bleak, but the smells coming from the kitchen were absolutely mouthwatering.
    Everyone sat down and peered at the special menu arranged by the tour company. I literally started to drool as I read the dishes: cheese fondue with crisp potatoes and black truffles to start, cacio e pepe (a dense pasta with pecorino sheep cheese and black pepper) to follow. Then our choice of a seafood medley or steak with vegetables.
    Waiters entered the small room, each carrying several bottles of red and white wines. They served each patron and the alcohol began to flow. Conversation was boisterous, and though it was torturous being three tables away from Campbell, I was enjoying the company of the South African tour members at my table.
    Each dish was more enticing than the one before, and soon our bellies were filled with amazing potatoes and pasta. I wasn't sure I could handle the steak placed in front of me but knew I'd somehow manage to push through. It smelled too wonderful to pass up.