The cool night air drifted through the open window, carrying the earthy smells of the vineyard and the flutter of nightbirds in flight. The bedroom was softly lit, one of the larger rooms in the villa, which was centuries old. The place was a ruin when she’d inherited it five years ago, but its restoration was finally finished. They’d repainted the bedroom a light blue, refinished the original hardwood floors, and restored the frieze on the ceiling, which depicted Duchess Caterina Sforza, an ancestor of Julia’s and the only female ruler during the Italian Renaissance.
“Okay, Leni’s asleep.” Gianluca entered the bedroom with a weary smile. “I got away with only two books.”
“Way to go.” Julia looked over, and on any other night, his looks would’ve taken her breath away. She’d fallen in love with him at the Marucelliana Library in Florence, where he was director. Gianluca Moretti was handsome in the intellectual, refined, and artsy way of Florentine men, with large brown eyes, a strong nose, full lips, and thick, wavy hair the color of espresso, which he kept longish. He was lean in a fitted black V-neck T-shirt, slim jeans, and Chelsea boots. Julia had finally gotten used to the fact that her husband dressed better than she did.
“How are you?” Gianluca came over and kissed her on the cheek, and Julia caught a fading whiff of his spicy cologne.
“Okay. How’s Leni?”
“Fine.”
“Is she upset I’m going?”
“She didn’t say anything. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Julia had told their daughter that she was going away for a few days, during bathtime earlier. Leni had absorbed the news without a fuss, but Julia knew that the concept of time was lost on three-year-olds. Mother and daughter had never spent a night apart, but Julia hoped for a minimum of separation anxiety, on both their parts.
“How long will you be gone for?”
“Until the funeral at least. I’m not sure, okay?”
“Of course, and my parents will help.”
“Great,” Julia said, relieved. She was lucky because her in-laws were retired and they loved to babysit. They’d been incredibly helpful during the renovation, too, staying in a cottage on the property from time to time, rather than driving home to Florence, about forty kilometers away.
Gianluca’s expression darkened. “Julia, I have to say, I’m worriedabout you going, after the premonition. You remember last time, that’s how it began.”
“With Mike’s murder, I know.”
“Yes, and this time it’s around another murder.”
“I know that, too.” Julia flashed on what had happened after her premonition last time. She’d begun to experience nightmares and visions, flashes of things that had yet to happen or of things that had already happened, like the truth of a buried secret. She’d felt like she was going crazy and wondered if she had psychic abilities. She’d even gone to a renowned medium, Helen Davenport, who’d confirmed that Julia had some psychic ability, but Julia had been so shaken by the possibility that she hadn’t followed up. That was five years ago, and she’d had no other visions, or premonitions. Until today.
Gianluca looked concerned. “So what will you do if the visions come back? It could be happening again.”
“I don’t know, maybe they won’t. Maybe it was just this premonition, one and done.”
“But last time, it was more.”
“I guess, but maybe it’s not the same.” Julia didn’t know if she was bullshitting him, herself, or both of them. “Nothing weird has happened all this time.”
Gianluca frowned slightly. “But it did, today. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not, but lots of people have premonitions. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to have visions.”
“It did before,” Gianluca said, gently.
“I know, but we don’t know if it will definitely happen again. I don’t know any of it. I mean, I don’t know if I’m really a medium.I haven’t felt anything since before Leni was born.” Julia heard her words quicken their cadence. “I’ve been happy. I’ve been normal. I’m normal now.”
“I’m not saying you’re not normal—”
“If I’m psychic, I’m not normal.” Julia shot back, and Gianluca placed a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ve discussed this, sweetheart. It didn’t mean you weren’t normal because you had premonitions, or visions.”
“Of course it does.” Julia felt her chest tighten. “Do you have premonitions? Visions?”
“No, but—”