Tall, Fair and Handsome~The Truth Revealed at Last

At seven-thirty pm while I was getting ready for my date with Tall, Fair and Handsome, I received a text message.  Here we go again, I thought.  If he cancels, that’s going to be it!  I’m so tired of the game playing and excuses. I’m done.

Reluctantly I looked at my phone.   “I’m waiting for you in the lobby.” 

Oh! He’s not cancelling. I’m always embarrassed when I jump to conclusions and I’m wrong.  At this moment, I felt ashamed.   But can you blame me?  He was evasive to the point of being secretive.  Cancelled so many appointments with barely an excuse.  But, now we were actually going to have our dinner date and for some strange reason, I felt a little nervous.  I always rely on my intuition.  It’s a certain kind of feeling I get in the pit of my stomach, like butterflies on steroids. And there they were.  Fluttering in abandon.

I put the finishing touches on my make-up, tousled my curly hair and took one last look in the mirror to see if I looked okay. 

I walked down the myriad of corridors to get to the elevator and walked in.  I was alone and introspective.  When the elevator door finally opened in the lobby, I noticed Tall, Fair and Handsome was pacing back and forth like a tiger in a cage. I wondered what that was all about.

He turned and when he saw me a large smile formed on his face. I relaxed immediately.  I don’t know why I had become so dramatic.  It was only dinner.

We walked to the restaurant in silence.  That was alright; I was lost in my own thoughts, wondering what his story was.  He had promised to tell me everything, and I had already jumped to so many conclusions.  Which one would be correct?

As we saw the Ponte Vecchio, he took my hand and we walked over to the very spot where I saw him dumping what I thought was cocaine in the Arno early in the morning.

He looked into the dark river, illuminated by the lights of various buildings. His eyes were soulful.

“Are you okay?” I asked, touching his arm.

“I didn’t want to bring any of my problems into our new friendship, but when I saw the look of fear and distrust in your eyes early this morning, I knew I had to tell you everything. I wasn’t being fair to you.  But, honestly, I wanted to spare you from knowing this part of my background.

“My wife…”

“You’re married? Oh my God!  I don’t date married men.  Don’t tell me.  You’re wife doesn’t understand you…”

“had cancer this past year.  She didn’t know she was terminal and made me promise when she recovered, that I would take her back to Firenze.  You see, we met here on this very bridge twenty-five years ago when she was an art student.”

My stomach dropped. 

“Her family is from Italy and when they heard she had died, they asked me to have the body brought to Firenze to be cremated.  That was my unfinished business.”

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know. Oh God, you’ve been suffering and I’ve been grilling you like a criminal.”

“When she realized she was dying, she asked me to sprinkle her remains in the Arno River.  I didn’t think it was legal, but I promised at her death bed that I would.  So, I woke up early when I was certain no one would see and brought her remains.  My thoughts were flooded with her until I saw you watching me.  You had a strange look in your eye that concerned me.  You no longer looked at me endearingly.  Suspicion and fear washed over you like a monsoon.  And I didn’t know why.”

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to control the tears that were forthcoming.  I had never been more ashamed of myself. 

“She made me promise to get on with my life.  That if I met someone special, I would take a leap of faith and make a life for myself.  Then I met you serendipitously and wondered if somehow she intervened on the train. I don’t think it was fate. I’m positive it was my beautiful wife who brought us together. She knew I would mourn her until the day I died unless she took matters into her own hands and spiritually handpicked the right girl for me.”

He turned away from the river and looked at me, wiping away my tears with his soft fingertips.

“I suppose we should go to dinner,” he said, looking at his watch.  “We’re going to be late.”

Tall, Fair & Handsome~Saint or Sinner?

After a restless night wondering about Tall, Fair & Handsome, I decided that sleep was never going to happen.  My mind was too busy racing in all directions.  At 5:30 a.m., I took a shower and decided to go for an early morning run to clear my head and overactive imagination.

The summer is probably not the best time to visit Firenze.  The afternoon heat can beat up the most hardy of travelers.  Not even a gladiator could withstand the triple digit temperatures.  But before the sun has a chance to release its warmth, the early morning and evenings are temperate and a beautiful time of day and night to explore- or in my case run- around Florence, unleashing my stress.  Imagine me, stressed in Firenze.  Who’s stressed on vacation? Talk about crazy.  But, here I was.  Sleepless in Florence about to jog around the town  instead of getting my beauty rest.

In the distance I saw a man leaning over the Ponte Vecchio.  I looked around.  We were the only people out so early.  I felt a little vulnerable being alone.  So, I stopped and watched him from afar.

He looked over his shoulders, right, left, right and then at the Arno River in front of him.  It was TFH, I was certain.  What was he doing out so early? I walked toward him but stopped abruptly when  he poured a powdery substance from a box into the Arno River.

Oh, my God!  Cocaine? What if  he’s a drug dealer getting rid of the evidence in the early morning while everyone was still asleep?

Quietly, I turned around to make a quick get-away.

Too late.  He called out, “Heidi?”

“What are you doing out here so early?  And what was that in the box?” My voice was far more accusatory than questioning.

He sniffled, rubbing his  red nose.  “I told you I had unfinished business.”

“Yes, I can see that. No wonder you couldn’t tell me why you were in Florence.  A drug deal gone bad?”

“What are you talking about?”

He walked closer to me.  My heart beat quickly. I began to run.

“I can explain if you’d stop running.”

“Really?” I said, stopping dead in my tracks.  “Then why were you tossing powder into the Arno River at 5:45 in the morning if it wasn’t to get rid of drugs.”

“You thought cocaine was in this box?”

“Well, yes. Maybe.”

“You’ve got to stop writing murder mysteries.  Your imagination is out of control.    You need to have a little faith in men.”

“What are you saying?  I should write a romance novel next?”

“Yes.  Far less dramatic but much more beautiful.”

“So what are you doing here so early in the morning dumping a powdery substance into the Arno?”

“If you’ll still allow me to take you for dinner, I’ll explain it all to you tonight.”

“Maybe you should be the one writing mysteries.  You've certainly left me with one too many cliff hangers since we met...and now you're doing it again!"

No Pity Party in the Pitti Palace!

I’ve always loved Michael Bublé’s rendition of Pick Yourself Up…Dust Yourself Off…and Start all over Again (by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields)  ~ And so I did.  There was no way I was going to mope around the Mediterranean just because TFH cancelled dinner. Frown in Firenze? Not happening.  Been there~done that when I was on my honeymoon, alone. The pity party was over. After all, I had my travel books, tickets to museums and immediately went to Plan B.

 Instead of returning to the hotel to primp and plaster my face with cosmetics as I originally planned to get ready for my date with TFH, I was off and running to The Pitti Palace.  I couldn’t wait to see how the other half lived.

This massive palace was built in the 15^th century.  It is the most imposing and powerful palace I have ever seen. It looked more like a fortress than a palace. The façade reminded me of a grander version of The Baglioni-the hotel where I was staying. I smiled at the irony.  Imagine me staying in a palace. Truth be told, I imagine that all the time.

 When I entered The Palazzo Pitti, I couldn’t help but admire the décor.  I would have chosen the same decorators myself if I had the opportunity.  I love to play “which piece of art would I select for my home” when I’m in a museum.  I also day dream about owning a piece of real estate fit for a princess.  Which palazzo would I like to purchase?  The Palazzo Pitti would be my first stop on House Hunters International.

Room of Saturn

So as you can see in this gorgeous pink and gold Room of Saturn, I obviously picked the crème de la crème of art.  And more than just three pieces, breaking every rule of my game.  It’s everywhere from floor to gilded ceiling.  For those who like modern art or are minimalists, this is definitely over the top.  As for me, bring on the schmaltz. The more ornate the better.  Rococo? Oh, yeah. Love it.  Bring it on.  You can imagine how I twittered about in the Palazzo Pitti, planning where to put all my personal treasures.  I did the same in Versailles.  And, it was move-in ready, just like the Pitti Palace.  I just need to call 1-800 MoveMyStuffToEuropePronto!

The Room of the Niches

The Room of the Niches is my other favorite room in the palace.  The chandelier is breathtaking. Can you imagine the electric bill? I shudder to think about it.  Okay, I’m a bit of a practical princess at heart. Maybe they still use candles.  I look around and can’t help but admire the exquisite details.  This is me! I thought. So me!.  So where the heck is Prince Charming?  The palace is too big for only one.  But I’ve dibs on all the closets.  Shoes, clothes, accessories have to go somewhere.

I’ve been looking and searching for Prince Charming, wondering if Tall, Fair and Handsome is my match made in heaven.  Unfortunately I’d have to wait until dinner the next evening to find out.  But in the meantime, I found the perfect place for my grand piano. And, ironically my piano is also white and gold, just like this magnificent room.  Talk about destiny.  And maybe, just maybe TFH would be my destiny, too.

The Palazzo Pitti is Paradise.  Hopefully I can find my niche, like my imagination did in this Room of Niches,  with the love of my life.  

                           

                      



Something's Gotta Give

Tall, Fair and Handsome CANCELED!  I couldn’t believe it.  I looked at the text message again, trying to read between the lines:  Please forgive me for having to cancel last minute. I’ve been detained with unexpected problems. Let me make it up to you by rescheduling dinner at Borgo San Jacopo tomorrow night. I’ll plan a special night to remember.In actuality, he was postponing our dinner.  Another word for cancelling our evening, I thought, disappointed.  Was he playing games with me? How do I know he won’t cancel again?

 

I wish I had taken the time to read The Rules.  Then I’d know what to do to.  But I’ve never been a game player.  That’s so Junior High.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and when I love a man he knows my feelings.  No guessing.  No games.  Just real honest emotions. 

Red flags were flying everywhere.  He was such a gentleman, but secretive.  That can’t be good.  Impeccably dressed, refined…but why was he really in Firenze?  He evaded all my questions.  Red flags were definitely waving their warning sign at me.  Especially all the colorful ones on the roof top buildings lining the Ponte Vecchio, as if to say:  if it’s too good to be true…he probably is.

Tall, Fair and Handsome came into my life serendipitously.  Some would same fate intervened.  Others would say, “Careful what you wish for…you may get it.”  This is when I usually pray for divine intervention.  I’ve loved and  lost.  Mostly lost and now I pray that real love will find me.  Even if I’m in Tuscany.  Actually, I probably have a better chance in Tuscany than  in Tucson~There's always tomorrow night, I sighed.