Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,28

without getting lost?" the woman asked.

"I have city maps for each of you. I'll leave them at the front desk, so grab one before you head out."

I darted a look around the room -- at all the strangers wearing my clothes -- and started to hyperventilate. A sheen of perspiration bathed my throat. I became paralyzed by a single thought. What if I never got my entire wardrobe back? Oh, my God. I'd spent forever poring over Victoria's Secret, Spiegel, and Nordstrom catalogues to find just the right clothes for this trip. I wanted my stuff back! Now!

"My last item of business is information that I wish I didn't have to share with you," Duncan announced. "There was an accident on the stairs last night. Some of you might have been awakened by the commotion in the lobby. One of our tour guests tripped on the runner and fell down the entire flight of stairs. Unfortunately, she didn't survive the fall."

Gasps. Murmurs of shock. "Who was it?" Dick Teig called out.

"The guest's name was Cassandra Trzebiatowski. From Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania."

A perfect example of why including last name and place of residence on your standard three-by-four-inch name tag was often optional.

"We've notified her family, and they'll be flying someone over to handle all the necessary arrangements for the body. In the meantime I can't stress enough how important it is for you to watch your step on the stairs and to use the handrail. Let's try to avoid another tragedy while we're in Florence."

A hush fell over the room. I heard George whisper to Nana, "What's the body count now, Marion? Five or six? I've lost track."

I slumped forward, holding my head in my hands. Nana patted my back with a sympathetic hand.

"You didn't have nothin' to do with this, Emily, so try not to fret about it."

"I'm cursed. I really am. I'm right up there with the Red Sox and the Cubs."

Nana's hand worked faster. "Listen to me, dear. If you want drugs, I can help. There's no shame in takin' somethin' that'll help you cope." She rummaged in her pocketbook and slapped a small plastic tube onto the table. Anbesol. Extra strength.

"I don't have a toothache."

"Don't matter. This stuff will numb you up real good whatever your problem is."

I lowered my forehead to the table and groaned.

"Try to get a grip, dear. Remember what happens when you get stressed."

Remember? Good God, how could I forget? I got hives. But not just normal hives. I got...I shot straight up in my chair. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of it before? I grabbed Nana's face and kissed her. She was such a genius.

"Any other unfinished business you'd like to discuss before we break for the day?" Duncan asked.

I stabbed my hand in the air and, when Duncan acknowledged me, scooted my chair back and stood up. "Hi. I'm Emily. The person whose suitcase some of you helped empty last night."

Preening. Giggling. Wide smiles.

"I can see that many of you are wearing the clothes you borrowed from me, and I just wanted to say you look really great. I hope my wardrobe can add to your trip in some small way."

Cheers. Hoots. Scattered applause.

"You probably thought this was going to be a long speech, but that's all I really wanted to say." I waved to everyone in the room and started to sit down, only to pop back up and press my hand to my forehead to indicate my forgetfulness. "I'm sorry. There is one more thing I forgot to mention."

The applause died down. I smiled sweetly into the faces that peered up at me. "I have this embarrassing skin condition that's highly contagious, so if any of you start breaking out in a gross-looking, itchy red rash all over your body, don't get too upset. If you get treatment quickly enough, the damage to your liver will be only minor. And you'll be happy to know that the recommended treatment is known to have caused infertility in only five of twelve lab rats, which means, you can look great in Italy and still have children! Maybe. Isn't that great?"

I maintained my smile as half the room made a sudden stampede toward the door.

I might be from a little town in Iowa, but I hadn't just fallen off the turnip truck.

Chapter 5

I was loitering in the hotel lounge a short time later, impatiently waiting for Jackie, when I saw a familiar face grab a map off the front desk and blow past