Read an Excerpt

Chasing Rome: A Novel
By John Gray
 
CHAPTER 1
 
You Take the Biscuit
 
There are more than six thousand languages spoken in the world and Chase Harrington was proficient in exactly one: English. Yet, no translation was needed to understand the snarky look she was getting from the neatly dressed barista at the Sciascia Caffè in the Prati neighborhood of Rome.
 
Chase and her fiancé, Gavin, boarded a flight out of JFK the evening before, just as Jeopardy was coming on the television at the airport bar. After nine sleepless hours on the plane, a six-hour time change, and a bumpy cab ride into Italy’s capital city, she needed an immediate influx of caffeine to make this day possible.
 
It was two in the afternoon on a crisp December day when faded brown floorboards that no doubt had been cut and nailed in place more than a century ago were creaking and whispering secrets under Chase’s light feet. She noticed, the moment she walked in, that this coffee house was nicer than the ones back home, with its ornate wood molding, an exposed brick wall, and large chunky furniture that dared you to sit.
 
“Did I pronounce it wrong? Do you call a cappuccino something else here?” Chase asked politely.
 
The barista remained still as a statue, his frozen gaze fixed on Chase’s lovely, albeit tired face.
 
Just then, a different voice chimed in, “He won’t give it to you, luv.”
 
The words, in an alluring accent, came from an attractive young woman with long red hair who was seated at a small table to Chase’s left.
 
Chase turned to the lady with the charming brogue and asked, “Why not?”
 
The redhead put her newspaper down now and replied, “Cappuccino is never served this late in the day in Rome. Better to get a coffee.”
 
Before Chase could change her order, the front door to the café flung open and a tall, handsome man stepped halfway in.
 
“Are you good, babe?” he said, turning every head in the place.
 
It was Chase’s fiancé, Gavin Bennett, holding a brown leather leash that led to her Australian shepherd, Scooter.
 
“Yes,” Chase replied, a bit flustered. “Just trying to get the hang of ordering something to drink in Italy. We’ve been here less than an hour and I’ve already broken a rule.”
 
She could see Gavin’s confusion but waved him away with her hand, saying, “I’m fine. Be right out.”
 
Gavin flashed that broad, disarming smile and replied, “Sounds good. Hey, can you grab me a coffee, hon?”
 
Chase turned back to the waiting barista and said, “Forget the cappuccino. Two coffees, please.”
 
The man immediately smiled, then turned his back to Chase and got busy working at a large silver machine with enough shiny knobs to launch a space satellite. There were hissing and banging noises that for some reason reminded Chase of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The Oompa Loompa spun back around and placed two small cups on the counter in front of Chase.
 
“Here we are, that is two euros,” the barista said in perfect English.
 
“Oh, so we do speak American, eh?” Chase said with a hint of mischief in her voice.
 
The barista didn’t crack a smile but gave Chase a quick wink with his right eye. Chase reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a fistful of strange-looking coins and currency.
 
“They gave me this at the exchange counter after we landed,” she said, hoping the man in the apron could offer some assistance.
 
Chase looked at the redhead, who was enjoying the show from her table, and said, “I’m a shopkeeper’s dream, the silly American who doesn’t know what anything costs and will probably pay fifty bucks for a drink.”
 
The woman replied, “Not to worry, Antonio is very honest.”
 
Chase looked back to the barista and said, “So, you’re Antonio. Nice to meet you.”
 
The barista plucked coins from her open hands and said to Chase, “These are each worth one euro. I’m taking two.”
 
Chase smiled, answering, “Thank you, Antonio. Let me give you a tip.”
 
The barista stepped back as if she had offered him poison, raising both hands in front of him.
 
“Not allowed,” he said firmly.
 
Chase, then mumbling to herself, “Wow, okay. So, no cappuccino after noon and no tipping, got it.”
 
As Chase was about to go outside with her two coffees, she turned to the redhead and said, “Thank you for the help earlier. I’m Chase.”
 
The woman, wearing a white knit sweater and jeans, rose from her seat and extended her hand to shake, answering, “Riley, and you’re welcome, luv.”
 
Chase smiled, asking, “Is that an Irish or Scottish accent?”
 
Riley feigned a shocked expression and raising her voice, “Oh, St. Francis on a bicycle, my poor granda must be spinning in his grave back in County Cork. That’s Ireland, dear.”
 
“Gran-what?” Chase replied.
 
“Da, Gran-Da, that’s my grandfather,” Riley explained.
 
Chase nodded, “Gotcha. Well, I love the accent and your name, very pretty.”
 
Riley folded her arms and replied, “You wouldn’t think so if you knew the rest of it.”
 
Chase had to ask, “The rest?”
 
“O’Reilly, is me last name, believe it or not, as you Americans say.”
 
Chase trying not to smile, then said, “So, your name is Riley O’Reilly?”
 
“It’s worse than that,” she answered. “My full name is Ophelia Riley O’Reilly.”
 
Chase chuckled, then said, “So, if we use your first initial?”
 
“That’s right,” she replied. “My name is O. Riley O’Reilly. My da had a sense of humor.”
 
The thought of it made both women share a laugh.
 
Chase liked this stranger and smiled warmly, saying, “I have to run, but it was really nice meeting you, Riley.”
 
Just then the door opened, and Gavin poked his head back in again. “Not to be a bug, but it’s chilly out here.”
 
Chase set down the coffees, ran to the door, and grabbed Gavin by the hand. “This is my fiancé, Gavin. And Gavin, this is Riley.”
 
Gavin extended his hand to shake hers, saying to Chase, “We just landed and you’re already making friends.”
 
Riley grasped Gavin’s hand with both of hers and exclaimed, “Stop it, now. I’ve seen some dingers in my day, but you take the biscuit.”
 
Gavin couldn’t help but laugh out loud, “I’m sorry. What?”
“The biscuit, what you’d call the cake,” Riley explained, adding, “And dinger means good-looking.”
 
Chase intervened, saying, “I think she’s calling you a stud muffin, babe.”
 
Riley laughed and replied, “I don’t know that expression, but she sounds about right.”
 
Riley’s eyes then darted down to the floor looking at Chase’s dog. “And who have we here? Is he Irish? He looks a wee bit Irish.”
 
Gavin answered, “Australian, actually. His name is Scooter.”
 
Riley bent down on one knee to see the pup’s face and rub his head, saying, “Sorry your gal is leaving you out in the cold, Scooter. I could talk the hind leg off a donkey if you let me.”
 
Gavin looked at Chase, then whispered, “A donkey?”
 
Riley rose and looked at the happy couple, explaining, “Old Irish saying. Just means I’m a chatterbox.”
 
Gavin picked up the small drinks Chase had just purchased, asking, “What’s this?”
 
The cups were much smaller than a normal cup of coffee and filled with a dark black liquid.
 
Riley, again in her thick Irish accent, explained: “I saw the whole thing, Gavin. She tried, but ordering drinks in Italy can be a bit tricky if you don’t know the lingo.”
 
Gavin and Chase just stared at Riley, enjoying her accent and personality.
 
Riley continued. “Here you can only get cappuccino in the morning, and if you ask for coffee you get espresso.”
 
Chase looked at Gavin and said sarcastically, “You read ten books on life in Italy and somehow you missed that chapter?”
 
Riley poked her red head in between them and whispered, “What you want to order is a Caffè Americano.”
 
“And that’s coffee?” Gavin asked.
 
“Not exactly,” Riley answered. “But close.”
 
Gavin looked at his watch. “Hon, we should, you know?”
 
Chase agreed. “I didn’t realize it was that late.”
 
Riley, curious now, asked, “What hotel you staying in? Is this your honeymoon?”
 
Chase held up her left ring finger to reveal the Tiffany’s diamond Gavin had given her the year before. “Engaged, but that’s why we’re here, to be married.”
 
Riley gave Chase and Gavin an unexpected hug, “Well, good on you both then.”
 
Gavin explained, “We’re actually not staying at a hotel. Chase thought it would be more fun to stay with a family for a few weeks and learn the culture. So, we’ll be in a home in the Monti neighborhood of Rome.”
 
Riley lit up. “Very nice indeed, and not so far from the Vatican, if you fancy a chat with the Pope.”
 
Chase finished her strong drink in one gulp, put the cup down on the table, then said, “It was so nice to meet you, Riley. I hope I see you again.”
 
Riley returned to her seat and replied, “This is my spot most afternoons at two.”
 
Riley sipped her own drink, then added, “And it was nice to meet you both.”
 
Outside the café, Chase and Gavin spied a large orange taxi sign on a metal pole at the corner. They didn’t stand more than two minutes before a car arrived and a stout man in a wool cap stepped out to open the door for Chase.
 
Gavin fished a small piece of crumpled yellow paper from his jacket pocket. Speaking slowly, he read aloud, “Via dei Capocci, number eleven.”
 
The driver didn’t respond. Instead, he returned to the front seat, put the car in gear, and off they went. A few blocks into the trip the driver turned and said in almost perfect English, “Three minutes. You weren’t too far.”
 
Chase smiled at the driver and asked, “Do most people in Rome speak English?”
 
She saw him nod his head up and down in the rearview mirror, before answering, “Sì. I mean yes. Most.”
 
Both Gavin and Chase were mesmerized by the beauty of the architecture as they slowly made their way down the streets of Rome. Some Gothic, most with a Greek vibe. Occasionally they’d come to an abrupt halt and the driver would gently tap on the horn to get someone’s attention.
 
Double-parking was common on Rome’s narrow streets, and the two of them swallowed hard as the cab squeezed through passages that appeared too small to fit.
 
When three minutes were up, the driver double-parked himself and said, “Eleven on Via dei Capocci.”
Chase paid him in euros and the pair emerged from the cab holding hands. The building looked like many of the brownstones back in Manhattan, with a red brick façade and a thick tile roof, serving, now anyway, as a landing pad for a half-dozen noisy birds.
 
“Tell me again what we’re doing here?” Gavin asked facetiously, as he looked up at the building.
 
Chase turned to meet his eyes, “Come on, anyone can stay at the Marriott. I want to feel like we’re a part of it.”
 
Gavin, answered back: “By staying with strangers in a strange place?”
 
Chase sighed now, asking, “Since when are you NOT up for an adventure?”
 
Gavin could see disappointment in her face and quickly snapped out of his funk, answering, “You’re right. You’re always right. This could be fun.”
 
Chase then shifted to a more serious tone, saying, “And remember, Mr. Bennett, you have the most important assignment of all.”
 
Gavin smiled. “I know, you want me to plan a month of romantic adventures.”
 
Chase then spun in a circle on the cobblestone sidewalk with her arms extended to each side, saying, “And with all of Italy to choose from, the options are endless.”
 
Gavin looked up at the building again, asking, “You sure about this place? The lady of the house barely spoke English on the phone, and she sounded—”
 
“Rude?” Chase finished his thought.
 
“I was going to say, um, what’s the word?” Gavin added. “Joyless.”
 
Chase took his hand again. “Perhaps we can bring her some joy then. Besides, if we want real Rome, this is the place—I can feel it.”
 
Gavin replied, “And she’s okay with Scooter staying?”
 
Chase answered, “I told her about him, and she said fine.”
 
Just then, the two of them heard an older woman clear her throat from above Both sets of eyes traveled up the front of the building to a tiny balcony where a woman in a modest house dress stood with her arms folded like a proctor giving an exam.
 
“Are you two going to talk all day or get in here?” the woman called down with a heavy Italian accent.
 
Curly gray hair framed her wrinkled face and dark, sad eyes.
 
“Not too late for the Marriott,” Gavin mumbled to Chase, as he looked up at the woman hovering above like a hawk on a tree branch.
 
Then a different voice called out from behind, “Ignore her, she’s just mad that I didn’t clean up after breakfast.”
 
Gavin and Chase turned to find a beautiful woman a bit older than Chase with long dark hair, full lips, and dusty brown eyes.
 
She said in a welcoming tone, “I’m Francesca. That’s my mother-in-law barking at you. Let’s go in before she dumps water on the three of us.”
 
Chase squeezed Gavin’s hand, and with Scooter in tow the three began their Italian adventure. They didn’t know that the moment they stepped through that door, they’d be walking into a mystery filled with hope, loss, and endless love.
 
Copyright ©2022 by John Gray