The Liberation of Alice Love(50)
Author: Abby McDonald

Yes, this was the place. Ella wouldn’t have picked somewhere self-important, dripping marble and chandelier fittings—Alice knew that much by now. She liked things luxurious, true, but with character. As she stepped inside the polished lobby, Alice looked around carefully, as if seeing through Ella’s eyes. The dark green tiles on the floor, the quaint artworks and tiny curios beside plush couches, the collection of bronze owl figurines perched above the reception desk—she approved. They both did.

***

Her room was on the second floor: a small but well-proportioned space decorated in deep shades of red, with vintage maps framed in gold behind the enormous bed. Alice gazed around happily while Pascal, the night manager, placed her case carefully in the middle of the dark wood floor and presented her with an old-fashioned key.

“Please excuse,” he apologized. “But you must see Carina tomorrow, to check in properly. The computer is crashing all day.”

“That’s fine.” Alice nodded, making a note to become friendly with this Carina. She’d hoped for immediate information about Ella’s stay, but Pascal had given her a large, leather-bound guest book to sign in, and a surreptitious peek at the previous pages revealed only sporadic entries. Clearly, the main reservation system was locked in that sleek, flat-screened system.

Pascal must have mistaken her silence for disappointment, because he quickly toured the room, proudly showing off the tiny, cobalt-blue bathroom stocked with exclusive bath products and the small balcony, its railings twisted with fragrant flowers. Alice followed, silently applauding Ella’s exquisite taste, until he exhausted the range of delights on offer and looked at her eagerly from under wire-rimmed spectacles. “You need directions, for food? There are many trattorias nearby.”

“No, thank you,” Alice assured him, already feeling tiredness settle in her limbs. “I’ll just rest now, after the trip.”

“Very good.” The man bobbed his head slightly and retreated, closing the heavy door with the softest of clicks.

After slowly placing her bag on the dresser, Alice stepped out onto the dark balcony, inhaling the scent of blossom and an unfamiliar city. She could hear voices from the streets nearby, and the distant hum of traffic, and as she stood there, clutching the narrow, wrought-iron railing, a wave of possibility rolled through her.

It was perfect.

Ella had been here—she could just feel it. Tomorrow, she would find more clues; maybe staff here had talked to Ella, about her travel plans, or perhaps Ella had even checked in as Alice, and she could access “her” room bill details. There could be a phone call charged to the room or a fresh credit card registered for payment to lead her even deeper into Ella’s trail…

Alice shivered with excitement at the prospect. Suddenly spinning around, she took two long steps back into the room and hurled herself onto the bed with glee. The soft bedspread rippled under her; her reflection in the mirror showed her eyes bright and full of hope.

She was getting closer.

***

The next morning, the all-knowing Carina was still nowhere to be seen, so Alice took a list of cafés from Pascal and set out, in her goddess dress and a comfortable pair of sandals. The city was hers to discover, and for the first time, she had not a single plan in mind. Alice was free to wander as she willed, and she would relish every moment of it.

“Dessert, signora?”

Alice looked away from the busy midday square to find her waiter. “Absolutely,” she beamed, taking the menu. She was full from the plate of delicious seafood and soft, warm bread, but that was no reason at all to miss out on the many delights of pastry, or chocolate, or— “Panna cotta,” she decided. “And another glass of wine, grazie.”

Sitting back in her chair, Alice let out a sigh of contentment. She’d spent the morning strolling through the winding backstreets, taking in the washed reds and terra-cotta of the faded buildings, and now she was settled at a shaded table out on a small, paved square. Trailing boxes of flowers surrounded her with a pretty garden, and in the middle of the piazza, a glorious fountain gushed streams of water into a low pool, glinting in the sun.

“It’s the next left, I’m telling you.” A harried group of tourists came to a stop nearby, peering at their maps.

“No, that was the plaza.” A man hitched his pack higher, glancing around but not seeming to see anything at all. “It’s back the way we came.”

“Are you sure?”

There was more disagreement, and then they moved off, hurrying to make whatever tour they’d booked. A few years ago, Alice knew she’d been just the same, attempting to cram every attraction into her trip for fear of missing out. Now, she was gloriously free from such concerns. It felt almost indulgent not to make the most of her time in Rome, but she’d already seen the Pantheon, viewed plenty of old churches, even strolled the catacombs—and felt no desire to race around the city doing it again. This was her stolen weekend, Alice decided, beaming at the waiter as he delivered her dessert. She could sit for half the afternoon in this café if she liked, soaking in the soft gold tint of the light and the sensuous curve of the statue on the corner. And perhaps she would.

Nobody knew she was there.

***

When the last sweet spoonful of dessert was gone, Alice left a generous tip and wandered on her way. Turning down a wide, tree-lined boulevard, she found herself surrounded by stylish storefronts, hung with dark awnings and boasting designer shoes and handbags behind the spotless glass. She browsed idly up the street for a while, under the watchful eyes of the polished staff, but it wasn’t until she reached a small boutique on the corner that she felt the first tug of temptation.

“Antonia’s” the name read in gold script on the window. Alice stepped inside and found herself surrounded by pale peach walls and gilt edgings, the wood floor set with antique cabinets displaying an occasional flash of vibrant silk or a rich leather shoe. She looked around, enchanted. Some alchemy of the light illuminated everything in a sheen of pale gold, like the sunlight of the city itself, and at the far end of the room, a wall of tiny vials glittered on glass shelves, framed by the sweep of a pair of heavy silk drapes.

“Buongiorno.” A middle-aged woman appeared at her side, petite, and impeccably attired in a simple dress that Alice recognized must have cost a fortune from the way it cinched her curvaceous figure into a generous hourglass.

“I’m just looking, thank you.” Alice’s eyes drifted past the expensive shoes and jewelry, drawn to the glass vials that twinkled at her from across the shop. The woman followed her gaze, a small smile settling on her glossy rose lips.