Free Gaining Visibility by Pamela Hearon

at lunch, she dialed the business number.
    â€œPanache. This is Camille.”
    â€œSo the business hasn’t folded in my absence.”
    â€œJulia! How are you?”
    She drew out a long, dramatic sigh. “Well, my toe got broken this morning when Jupiter became angry that I was gawking at one of his gods, so I won’t be hiking the Cinque Terre after all.”
    â€œOh no.” Camille groaned the utterance in such a way that adequate sympathy and a hug were both conveyed over the distance.
    â€œAnd I lost my hotel reservation, so I don’t have anyplace to stay, but said-god is looking for a place, and he noticed my dancing finger, so all in all, I’d say things aren’t too terrible.”
    â€œI’m not even sure I followed all of that, but it sounds like you’ve met a man, so I’m impressed.” Impressing Camille wasn’t difficult if romance was involved . . . even the fantasy kind.
    â€œI’ve met a man named Vitale, who’s gorgeous, but he’s only about thirty, so hardly in legal range for me. The good part is that he’s taking care of me like he would his mother—so you got your wish—and he’s very helpful.”
    â€œHis mother, huh? Better wait and see what he wants for his trouble before you continue down that line of thinking.” Camille’s philosophy came out chewed around the edges. She must be eating breakfast. “And how’d the broken toe happen?”
    Julia opted for the dramaless version. “Vitale was laying a pathway, and he had this pile of stones. One fell off and landed on my foot.”
    â€œAre you in pain?”
    Julia thought about that before she spoke. “No, not really.”
    â€œBut you can’t hike.” More crunching ensued. “That’s terrible.”
    â€œCould be worse. Of all the great places in the world to get laid up, the Italian Riviera’s got to be at the top of the list. How’s business?”
    â€œNora Travis called this morning.” An eye roll was evident in Camille’s voice. “She’s ready to do her library and got all excited when I told her you were in Italy looking for new lines.”
    Julia answered with an eye roll of her own. “Glad you’re there to take care of the pretentious little twit. You were so good with her last time.”
    â€œAs long as she’s willing to pay the price, I don’t mind wearing my boots and carrying my shovel.” Julia heard the familiar door chime in the background. “Anne Hutchens. How are you? Hey, Julia, somebody just came in, so I’ve got to go. Call and let me know where you are and how you’re managing, ’kay?”
    â€œI will. Go make us some money.”
    â€œAnd you find us some great stuff. Love you!”
    As the warm sun beat down on her back, Julia was surprised at how relaxed she felt considering the circumstances. She should be upset . . . in a foreign country virtually homeless. But Vitale’s manner had been so assuring, she really wasn’t worried. He would find her a place to stay.
    Allowing someone else to take care of things this once was rather nice, actually. But she wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.
    She sipped the crisp white wine, which tasted of sunshine and air and sea—Liguria in a bottle—and soon her server sat the grilled sandwich in front of her, bits of roasted red peppers and eggplant oozing out the side along with the cheese.
    Julia’s mouth watered at the sight.
    â€œYou meet Vitale?”
    Julia’s surprise must’ve shown on her face.
    â€œI hear you say ‘Vitale.’ ” The girl pointed to the cell phone.
    â€œOh.” Julia pointed to her toe. “I broke my toe this morning, so I’m having to change my plans. Vitale helped me do that.”
    â€œVitale, he is nice.” The girl took a dreamy breath. “And beautiful. Do you love him?”
    Ah! Just as