Free The Lost Art of Second Chances by Courtney Hunt Page A

my tour guide was getting annoyed with me wrecking her schedule and asking her to translate as I talked to the restaurant owners at every meal.” She flipped through her journal, showing him her notes. She couldn’t get enough of the amazing food and kept finding new and more wonderful local delicacies to try. “I can’t wait to prepare some of the dishes I’ve learned for the book club. Just the seafood alone . . .”
    “Italy agrees with you, Lucy,” Jack said, smiling at her. “You have color in your face and . . . well, you look happy.”
    “It’s been the trip of a lifetime, Jack.” She smoothed a hand over her flyaway curls. She’d been unable to achieve her usual blown-dry long bob and let her dark hair curl naturally. “I’ve learned so much. Tell me about your research.”
    “Okay, so our first task is to find Ali d’Angelo.”
    “I haven’t been able to find it on any maps. My mom said Nonna told her it was within thirty miles of Florence.” Lucy pulled out her iPad and queued up her map. Jack stopped her by putting a hand over hers. Awareness danced up her arm and zinged along her skin. What was the matter with her? This was just Jack . She learned a long time ago that he certainly wasn’t interested in her that way.
    “Lucy, I can only stay for a week. I need to get back to work. Dad needs my help,” Jack said. “I took some vacation days but I can’t stay indefinitely.”
    “But wouldn’t you rather spend your precious vacation time with your boys?”
    “They are at the age when spending time with their dad is a penance. Besides, I’ll have them when Jenny goes off on her honeymoon.”
    “Does Jenny know you’re here?”
    “I think she’s relieved I’m here. She seemed to think you might need some help.”
    “It’s kind of like all those adventure games we played growing up, isn’t it? Only this time, instead of pirates or Robin Hood, it’s my crazy Nonna’s game,” Lucy laughed. “I’m sorry she roped you into it.”
    “Don’t be. I loved Nonna like she was my own grandmother.”
    “She loved you like you were her own. She always wanted us to marry,” Lucy blurted out. Where had that come from? Was she flirting? With Jack?
    “Would that have been so awful?”
    Lucy didn’t answer, studiously studying the map. Lucy had enough to worry about without this attraction to Jack resurfacing. Jack was her friend—her best friend from childhood—and that was all. After drinking two cappuccinos each and sharing a plate of cookies between them, they scrutinized the map for over an hour, trying to pinpoint coordinates from Jack’s online research.
    “Ali d’Angelo doesn’t appear on this map. It doesn’t appear on any of the maps I’ve found. I need older ones but they are not available online yet.”
    “Maybe that’s the old name for it or something.”
    “When I first read Nonna’s letter, I thought we’d just take a cab somewhere and walk around a charming medieval town.”
    “Guess not.” Lucy lapsed into silence as she surveyed the map.
    “It doesn’t seem she left us much to go on,” Jack said. “Do you remember any stories from when you were little?”
    “I just remember her saying it was on a hill.”
    “There are a few of those hereabout,” Jack said wryly. “Anything else?”
    The cafe owner rubbed his drooping eyes and yawned. Lucy glanced around and realized they were the last ones in the place. As Jack packed up his laptop, the cafe owner hefted himself to his feet and came over to collect their dishes. When Lucy tossed on her sweater, she snagged her top button on her grandmother’s locket, triggering an old memory. Angel wings . . .
    “There was some local legend it was near the place the fallen angels fell to earth. Once, when I was small, we went for a walk in the woods, and I found a feather—probably from a hawk or something. It seemed enormous to me at the time. She told me, in her village, when you found a feather like that, it