“Hmm.” Frances tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. “I wonder if that means we’ll be getting a new publicity officer.”
“One that’s unmarried this time?” Gertie teased. “Though I think it would be difficult to find anyone more swoon-worthy than Lieutenant Guilford.”
Vi mentally rolled her eyes as both girls completely skipped the important part of Gertie’s observation. Was she the only one who found Luciana calling someone within a week of landing curious? Someone who spoke Italian and had a conversation about Rome, even though she would swear Luciana had said her family was in northern Italy. Vi wasn’t great with maps, but she was pretty sure Rome was near the middle of the “boot.”
“If one goes for that kind of smarmy charm,” Frances said with a sniff. “I prefer my men more manly. A little dangerous, even.”
Vi snorted. Lord help Frances if she ever did manage to land a “dangerous” man. As far as Vi could tell, the girl didn’t have the skills to deal with anything but the tamest of fellows.
“Shoot,” Marcie muttered, drawing Vi’s attention. Her travel buddy was holding her canteen upside down. A lone, lazy drop of water gathered on the rim, but nothing else.
Vi sighed and took the empty metal container from her. “Here, give that to me. I’ll go find a place to refill it. Mine is empty, too.”
“I can do it,” Marcie said as Vi staggered to her feet on tired legs.
“That’s all right. No need for both of us to get in trouble if I’m not back in time.”
Marcie made a face. “You just want a chance to explore.”
“There is that,” Vi admitted with a laugh. “But tell you what—I’ll let you go next time. Deal?”
“Deal.” Marcie leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. “But don’t think I’ll cover for you if you take too long.”
“Liar,” Vi said with a small laugh, knowing the opposite was likely true. Marcie, for all her tough talk, didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body, which was one of the reasons Vi was becoming so fond of her.
As she entered the central gallery, a blessed breeze greeted her. Closing her eyes in pure bliss, she let the sweat on her skin dry for a moment as she soaked in the cool shade of the tall columned corridor.
The rumble of an engine warned her of the small truck coming up behind her. Stepping to the side, she let the canvas-covered vehicle pass, marveling at the sheer size of the palace, a building large enough to have traffic pass through the center. As the truck exited toward the driveway leading toward the busy street, she turned and looked at the much more pastoral tableau framed by the gallery arch behind her.
Silent landscaped lawns that seemed to go on forever slowly rose from the gravel turnabout toward a high hill in the far distance. Heat haze obscured the pools and fountains that ran up the center, not that there was much to see. The fountains had all been turned off, the fuel for the pumps needed elsewhere. Still, the view was impressive.
She couldn’t even imagine the wealth it had taken to build this place. Or the passion that had been poured into its design and creation. That it was so battered and run-down now depressed her. Maybe when the war was over, the Italian government would restore it to its former glory. It would take a mint to do it, though.
A shout echoing down the enormous stone staircase leading to the grand hall broke the spell. She turned to hail whoever it was clattering down the steps. A spit-and-polish British officer with a harried air and a leather satchel tucked under one arm raised his hand as if greeting her.
She turned on a sunny smile. “Pardon me, sir, but where are—” Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she stopped, ready to jump out of the way of another vehicle.
Instead, it was just a dirty and rumpled soldier striding briskly toward her, having just saluted the guards at the oversize front doors. Several days’ growth of dark-blond beard obscured his lower face. He wore a US Army uniform and helmet. The rifle slung over his right shoulder seemed as much a part of him as the strong hand holding the strap. His skin, the scant bit she could see, was sunburned to a dark bronze.
Vi stared, fascinated by the sheer masculinity and grit radiating off him. If