Jenny trailed on Marina’s heels, flustered. They walked fast, in silence, steps echoing through the stony streets of Florence. The writer felt utterly lost as they turned left or right on similar-looking corners, went forward on non-descript blocks.

‘How do you know where she is?’ Ms. Schecter inquired, puzzled.

‘We were educated in the way of ancient, traditional families.’ Marina justified, eyes straight ahead. ‘She’s bond to follow those rules now, especially since her parents must be furious about her prolonged absence. Which means she is on her way home.’

‘And you happen to know exactly where, in this godforsaken maze, her house is.’

‘My parents were forever in her place. Though I’ve never been there myself, Mother was particularly fond of the Hernandezes’ house and would often take me along on a stroll to admire the architecture.’

‘You would not only admire the architecture but also the Hernandezes’ young daughter.’ Jenny accused, venom in her voice.

Marina sighed, really annoyed, but maintained her tone flat when she answered: ‘Look, I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not, but I hadn’t seen or met Alba until today.’

‘You were too close for first acquaintances.’

‘We have too many things in common. Makes it easier for us to understand each other.’ For the first time she eyed the younger woman, briefly so. ‘Who’d you feel closer to, an American writer or a Japanese princess?’

Jenny shrugged, unconvinced. She’d sensed a strange, eerie pull towards that mysterious, exotic girl. Those sapphire blue eyes had attracted her, had talked to her soul in an unique way. She’d felt vulnerable, under a spell.

Soon they saw a slender, familiar form. Without hesitation, they both jogged to the swiftly distancing figure, reached her a few seconds later.

‘Hey, Alba, slow down.’ Marina said softly, beamed, put a restraining hand on the teen’s elbow.

‘Yeah, running right after or during lunch is bad for your health.’ Jenny commented sarcastically, touched the young one’s shoulder.

‘Hello Marina, Jenny.’ She greeted them, visibly astonished. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You shouldn’t have run away. My husband was just starving-angry.’ Marina rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘You were my guest and should at least have remained there until the end of lunch.’