The elderly woman smiled at her, and it was as if Joy’s future self appeared before her.

Her bones ached.

Oh, what am I saying? Is it too late for romance? Am I fooling myself? Has love and all that passed me by?

She rubbed her throbbing temple and sighed. No, don’t ruin your time in Venice. Stay in the present.

Joy smiled back at the elderly woman and did her best to enjoy the gondola ride at sunset.

CHAPTER 4

Filled with peaceful happiness after the lovely sights on the gondola tour, Joy returned to her hotel, completely grateful for having listened to the hotel manager’s advice to take advantage of every minute of her time in Venice.

“It is the heart of Italy,” Joy told him as she approached him inside the hotel lobby.

He clasped his hands together. “I am so happy for you, signora. This city is for you and for those who love love and beauty.”

Joy smiled warmly and shook his hand. “Absolutely. Buona notte.”

“Buona notte.”

Inside her room, Joy exhaled and stood by the open window, listening to the sound of the restaurant patrons seated at the café below and jazz music coming from a restaurant nearby. She pulled up a chair and rested by the window, watching the sun set and the shadows grow over the buildings.

“What a day,” she sighed. Isabelle and Gloria’s faces came to her mind as she thought of her time at the Venezia Florist shop. Helping brides with flower selections was a dream of hers. Then Alessandro and his friends came to mind. She rubbed her belly, still full from the seven-course meal and wine. She yawned. The fullness made her sleepy, but the memories of pleasant conversations made her warm with comfort.

Her phone vibrated. A text from Jaime brought her back to reality.

I hope you had a nice day.

I did. How about you? I helped a bride pick out flowers for her wedding day, so I thought of you all day. I can’t wait to help plan your special day.

Thanks, Mom. I look forward to it, too, but when will that be? Are you still planning on staying there for the month?

Considering her fun-filled day, Joy responded with a “Yes” followed by three exclamation points.

I had an authentic seven-course dinner with Alessandro and his friends. Then I enjoyed a sunset gondola ride along the Grand Canal. It was everything I ever dreamed of.

She watched the little dots dance across the screen as Jaime typed.

I’m so glad, Mom. You deserve it.

With a sigh of relief, Joy texted back about her plans for the next day. Gladness filled her heart as she realized Jaime wasn’t upset with her. Then she plugged in her phone to charge it. She gathered her things for a hot shower and relished the hot water on her tired and sore muscles. The fact that Jaime understood her being there helped relax Joy’s body and mind.

Once in bed, she journaled about her adventures.

It was Millie who inspired me to have my own adventure. Here I am!

Jaime seems to be genuinely happy for me. That warms my heart. I know she worries that I won’t be there for her, but I will. I’ve always been there for her. Unlike my own mother.

She set down her pen and reflected on her own childhood after her father died.

Joy’s mother was beautiful, so it was no wonder that she had many suitors after the death of her husband, Joy’s father. But she also had young children to care for, a mortgage, and bills to pay.

Joy frowned when she remembered how her mother ran off to Las Vegas to marry a man she’d met at work.

A wealthy and powerful man that was the complete opposite of Joy’s father.

Weston, Joy’s stepfather, was kind but strict and indifferent at times, especially to her younger brother. But her mother was happy with the larger house, money in her own account, a new car, and jewelry in her new mahogany jewelry box.

Mom only married again for security. I know this because I asked her about it once.

“Sometimes, Joy,” her mother had said, “you marry for security and not romantic love. I had romantic love with your father. Now? With Weston, I have security. That’s all that matters to me.”

All that matters.

Joy sighed and rested her head back on the headboard. Is that true? Her heart raced, causing a hot flash. This is ridiculous. She closed her journal and placed it on the side table. I’m not going to let things of my past ruin my present. She closed her eyes. I’m in Venice, Italy, for crying out loud. I’m not here for romance. I don’t want romance anymore. I want adventure. She smiled. Then she reached over and turned out the light.

Clattering sounds of dishes mixed with soft voices deep in conversation provided the soundtrack for Joy’s breakfast inside the hotel dining room.

As she munched on her butter croissant and sipped her cappuccino, she glanced around the room and found the young couple holding hands and gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes. Again.

Joy chuckled. Young love.

A loud crash coming from outside startled her. She craned her neck to see what the noise was. Alessandro pushed a cart stacked with boxes filled with a variety of colorful flowers.

A rush of excitement energized Joy. She set down her cappuccino, grabbed her purse, then headed out the door.

“Buongiorno, Alex,” she said when her eyes met his.

But her greeting was met with a frown. He shook his head and lowered his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

But he conversed in Italian with a merchant, complete with wild gestures revealing his frustration. The merchant argued back with equally animated hands.

Joy stepped aside, gripping her purse as if a shield to protect her from the conflict before her. As she scooted away, Alessandro waved to her.

“Prego. Please do not go just yet.” He used his apron to wipe his hands, then finished the conversation with the merchant, who took the cart in a huff and then wheeled the flowers inside his shop.

“Buongiorno, Joy.” He exhaled and tossed up his hands. “It’s been a hectic morning.”

“I’m so sorry.” She walked toward him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing worth discussing. All is well.” He made his way over to another cart filled with empty boxes.

“You had an early start this morning.”