“It’s okay, Dina. I’ll walk him back to his hotel.” Joy patted her on the shoulder. “It won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”

Dina huffed, then turned to take boxes to the restaurant.

Joy rushed through the terrace. “Tony, wait.”

He stopped to face her.

“Thank you for helping us.” Joy held out her hands.

He nodded toward Dina still glaring at him. “She doesn’t look too grateful.” He chuckled.

Joy turned and smiled at Dina, waving. “She’s just being protective, that’s all.”

“I don’t know. If looks could kill . . .” Tony smirked. “I’d be a dead man.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to your hotel, and then I need to return to help them clean up after the reception.”

Together they walked down avenues and across bridges, passing several restaurants and bakeries along the way.

“You don’t need to walk me back.” Tony took her hand. “Can we meet for dinner later and catch up?”

Joy closed her eyes and exhaled. “Tony . . .”

“Just to talk about things.” He curled his upper lip. “Please? I promise that’s all. Just talk.”

With his long face and slumped shoulders, Joy couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. The loss of yet another marriage weighed heavily on him. The spark that used to be in his eyes was gone. “All right.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks.” Tony walked off, and Joy’s compassion grew within her. Millie and Edith, her friends from her time spent in Rome, had taught her to let go of resentment and embrace the freedom of forgiveness. Her own shoulders lightened since releasing that burden.

Yet Joy had never expected to see Tony again, especially not on this trip. Forgiving him was one thing, but spending time with him again?

That was something else.

CHAPTER 7

After setting up for the wedding reception, Joy and Dina headed back to the little florist shop located off the Piazza di San Marco to cut flowers Alessandro had delivered.

A few customers waited for them to raise the front gate and unlock the door. Once they did, customers gleefully entered to purchase flowers, cards, and a few gift items like bookmarks and postcards.

Behind the counter, Joy rang up each order, experimenting with her Italian.

But when locals tilted their heads as if trying to comprehend what she said, Joy gave up and returned to English.

“At least you try, huh?” Dina said as she placed some receipts into the cash register drawer.

Joy giggled. “I hope I’m not telling anyone something harsh, you know?”

Dina laughed heartily. “Not yet.”

Once the shop grew quiet, Joy helped Dina cut flowers with scissors to create arrangements on the back room workbenches. The scent of fresh greenery and flowers invigorated her.

Clean and fresh, like a walk in the forest parks back home.

Using floral tape and green foam blocks, Joy made creative arrangements with plenty of fresh flowers. Carnations, peonies, ferns, lilies, Italian ruscus, and lavender blended together beautifully. Romantic bouquets and fragrant arrangements brought her pure happiness as she imagined who would receive them and why.

A passerby glanced through the window, watching her work. She waved a carnation and smiled at the woman in the window.

“Ciao,” the woman mouthed, smiled, and walked off.

Ah, windows. Joy grinned. They provide so much. A glimpse into this little world. A flower shop in Venice. Venice itself.

Next Joy adorned the arrangements with ribbons and tags, then placed them in the cooler for displaying the next day. She rinsed a towel in the sink and used it to wipe off the workbench, scissors, shears, and knives. One by one, she placed them inside the drawers of the workbenches, then helped Dina wrap the other fresh flowers in the waterproof paper Alessandro had supplied them.

Holding one bouquet of pink carnations, Joy embraced them as she would a friend and inhaled their scent deeply. Immediately her mood improved. Nothing could ruin her time with fresh flowers. Not even Tony.

Flowers had always been her smiling friends.

Soon the work was done in the shop. The shadows over the piazza grew longer, Joy hung up her apron, washed her hands in the little sink near the back exit, and checked her hair in the mirror.

“Heading to the hotel now?” Dina asked. She leaned against the counter as Vito lowered then locked the front gate.

“Yes.” Joy exhaled. “Tony is taking me to dinner.”

Dina’s eyes widened.

“Just dinner. That’s all.” Joy grabbed her purse.

“We’ll see.” Dina pursed her lips.

“No. I mean it. I know he only wants to see me because his heart is broken. But I’m here for him as a friend. Nothing else.”

Dina raised an eyebrow, and Vito crossed his arms. He whispered something to Dina in Italian, and she nodded.

“I mean it.” Joy giggled at her friends. “I promise.”

But she sensed her friends didn’t believe her.

In fact, Joy didn’t believe herself.

At the hotel, Joy prepared an outfit to wear to dinner. Her phone vibrated, and Jaime’s name appeared. “What time is it there?”

“So are you meeting Dad?”

Joy squinted at the sound of hope in Jaime’s voice. Her daughter was desperate for them to reconcile. Some, including Jaime, might argue with her and say that Jaime only wanted to help her dad. But Joy knew her daughter, and she couldn’t promise anything. Jaime was in for disappointment . . . again.

“Yes.”