Walking away from the crowds, Joy strolled down an alleyway that opened to a courtyard with a private view of the Grand Canal.

Sadness overwhelmed her as she yearned for the arms of the only man she had ever loved—Tony. A lump in her throat made it hard to breathe for a moment.

The year before, their thirty-five-year marriage had ended when Tony abruptly shoved divorce papers into her face, then left their home with his new receptionist, Tiffany, on his arm. Joy cringed when the sound of her own voice begging him to stay echoed in her mind.

How could I have been so stupid as to beg him? She shook her head. Yet she knew why she’d begged him. He had become her life. He had become her everything. I won’t let that happen again, that’s for sure. She stood tall and hugged herself as if her arms were a life jacket From now on, it’s just me. Just me and Jaime and—

Shouts from a woman startled Joy, and she turned around to see what was happening. An older woman shouted orders in Italian to a man Joy assumed was her husband. Only a wife could get away with yelling at a man like that.

Several small tables had been arranged on the hotel courtyard, and the man carried boxes of floral arrangements, huffing as he walked.

The woman ordered him where to place each arrangement, and with quiet patience, the man did just as he was told.

Joy made her way over to the scene. Passersby paused to watch but then carried on without helping. Joy loved arranging flowers. It was a passion of hers, and she could hardly wait to help Jaime decorate for her wedding reception.

“Excuse me,” Joy interrupted. “Can I help you?”

“Can you help me?” the woman echoed.

“Yes. Do you speak English?”

The woman nodded.

“I can help you with the decorations.” Joy shifted her weight and grinned as she patted her chest. “You see, I once worked at a floral shop in New York and—”

“Here.” The woman shoved a stack of dusty rose-colored tablecloths to her. “You do tables, si?”

“Of course.” Joy went from table to table, fitting each one with a tablecloth. After smoothing them out, she rushed over to assist the man with arranging the floral centerpieces onto each one. She paused only for a moment to inhale the sweet scent of pink roses, white carnations, purple petunias, and English ivy. “So lovely.”

The man handed Joy some name cards and gestured to the tables.

“How do I know where to seat the guests?” she asked.

But the man silently went about his business, tying white satin ribbons to the backs of each chair.

“Okay. Well, I suppose it’ll all work out.” Joy haphazardly placed the names of guests onto each table. Only four people fit at each table, for an intimate dining experience. She stepped back and observed the seating arrangements. I’ll have to remember to tell Jaime about that. Fewer people at each table ensures good conversation.

The older woman handed her some candles. “Place”—she gestured—“there.”

“At each table? Okay.” Joy did as she was told.

The lights around the plaza turned on and illumined the space, and the disc jockey unloaded his equipment from a boat docked nearby onto a metal cart. He wheeled it over to the courtyard. From the boat hopped out more young men with equipment to set up. They placed boxes onto another metal cart and raced it past Joy.

In just a few minutes, their sound system came on and beautiful music played. Sinatra and Dean Martin songs, along with Michael Bublé and Diana Krall’s smooth jazz songs filled the air, and this time, passersby stopped to enjoy the sounds.

When the reception area decorations were completed, Joy stepped back to take in the sight.

The older woman and her husband had transformed the space into a romantic grotto-like atmosphere. Hundreds of tiny white lights dangled from black wire trellises that disappeared into the night sky, making it look like stars falling to earth.

Dusty rose-colored drapery and tulle wrapped around Roman-styled columns sat in each corner, enclosing the space. English ivy adorned the drapery.

“It’s magical,” Joy whispered.

“You!” The older woman waved to her.

“Joy. My name is Joy,” she replied as she approached.

The woman grabbed her shoulders. “Joy.” She kissed her on one cheek, then the other. “You are a blessing.”

The man made his way over and bowed with hat in hand.

“I am Dina. This is my husband, Vito.” Dina gestured to Vito. “We are so grateful to you for your help. Our friend Alessandro was supposed to meet us here, but he is late.” She pointed to her watch. “So we didn’t know what to do.”

The silver-haired couple stood side by side, smiling at Joy. They were both a few inches shorter than her, but it was their wide smiles and gratitude that made them larger than life.

“It was a pleasure, really.” Joy clutched her chest. “I love decorating for weddings.”

“You are here in Italy for work, si?” Dina tilted her head.

“No, just for a vaca—” Something came over Joy that resembled curiosity. It stopped her cold. Should she take a chance? “Yes. I am. Why? Do you have a job opening?” Chills raced over her body, but not from cool air. From excitement.

“Si, we hire you. You come work for us. Okay?” Dina pointed to a cart off to the side. “Venezia Florists.”

Vito replaced his cap, then gently took Joy’s elbow to lead her to the cart.

Dina led the way. “This is the cart for our shop in the Piazza di San Marco. We have it that way. The shop. It is small but very busy.”

“Weddings,” Vito chimed in.

“Many weddings coming soon. Alessandro delivers the flowers, but he cannot help us set up and take down all this.” She gestured to the reception area. “But you can help, no?”

“Yes.” Joy nodded. “Si, I mean. I can help.” But her smile turned into a frown. “But . . .”

“Que? What is it?” Dina took hold of her shoulders.

“Don’t I need a work visa or something?” Joy bit her fingernail. She had only planned on being in Venice for a few days, and then she planned on heading to Milan and then to Austria. “Can I work in Italy?”

“You try it,” Dina explained. “Three weeks. If you like, then you can talk about the paperwork for you to stay in Italy. All right?”

Working . . . living in Venice. Joy moved on to chewing her thumbnail. Could I do it? Dare I take this chance? She laughed. To help total strangers? What would Millie do?

Her friend she’d met in Rome remained her inspiration. Not only did Millie travel to Rome with her friend, but she ran the Rome Marathon too. Joy admired how Millie could accomplish something like that.

If Millie could do that, then I can definitely do this. “Yes.” Joy hugged Dina. “I’ll do it. Count me in.”

“Grazie!” Dina cried, clapping her hands together. “Mille grazie!”

“Grazie per averci aiutato stasera! Hai salvato il nostro negozio e la nostra famiglia!” Vito said.