Return to Umbria David Wagner (english novels for students TXT) 📖

drove over hills that looked down on its meandering course. A bridge took them to the other side just before the gorge softened into a river valley for the final kilometers to Todi. Betta slowed, turned off what had become almost a highway, and crossed back over the river to the town of Pontecuti. Here the climb began in earnest. The road sliced through the tiny town and started a series of turns through groves of olive trees, cutting back and forth to the delight of the driver. Rick could sense her disappointment when the hill leveled out and she had to turn onto a side road to reach the tourist parking area. They found a space at the end of a row and she turned off the engine. Rick happily unlatched his seat belt and stepped out of the car.

Despite the similarity in elevation between Orvieto and Todi, it felt colder. It may have been the cooler air blowing down the Tiber River Valley from Perugia, or simply that Todi’s hill was more exposed, but the temperature was lower. They locked the car and walked toward the contraption that would take them up to the town itself. The lot was a third full, and the line of long spaces marked for tour buses had only one occupant. It would be filled in July and August, but now the tourist season was winding down, despite the near-perfect weather.

“Mannaggia.”

“What’s the matter, Rick?”

He jerked his thumb at a car parked at the end of the row. “Let’s hope there’s more than one silver Mercedes in Umbria. The two American women’s rental car is just like that.”

“I’m sure it’s a common model and color. And you promised you would stay away from the investigation today, so it couldn’t be them, could it?”

They picked up a ticket and waited for the next ride up. Unlike Orvieto’s antique funicular, the machine the Todini chose to carry their tourists up to the town was a rectangular glass and metal box that ran up and down a single, steep track. For the hearty, or those who didn’t want to wait or pay for the next run, metal steps ran the length of the line. Rick looked up and saw the empty car slipping into its berth. They got on with five other people, and after a few minutes the doors sealed shut and they climbed through the trees. At the top was a paved area between a street and the wall, what would be called a scenic overlook in America. Benches and trees broke up the expanse, but not enough to block the view of the valley below and the hills in the distance. Rick and Betta enjoyed it for a few minutes before starting up the street into the centro storico of Todi.

Betta took out her red Umbria guidebook and read from it as they walked. The church of San Fortunato appeared high above on their right at the top of a long set of stairs, but they decided to continue on to the main square, the jewel of the town. They passed a couple tourist shops on the left, as would be expected for the route visitors took from the funicular into town. Rick remembered that Crivelli’s other ceramics store was somewhere in Todi, but he expected it to be found in a more prestigious location. The street bent to the left after passing the town theater and narrowed to an almost car-width canyon before reaching the long, rectangular piazza. They stopped to survey the space before them.

To draw tourists, many town squares in Italy had become the site of summer theater and concerts, but Rick and Betta agreed that this one would work especially well for such events. It was small, almost intimate by Italian standards, and its rectangular shape lent itself to rows of chairs. The cathedral facade at the far end was the perfect backdrop for a concert, its raised steps the ideal place to set up a stage, and the buildings around the other three sides would help the acoustics and provide window seats for a privileged few.

“I wonder if the Romans had that in mind,” Betta said, holding her book, “when they laid out their forum here a couple thousand years ago.”

“It looks like there’s nothing left from that time,” Rick said as his eyes moved around the piazza. “Not even a couple columns. That’s a shame.”

“Still, it’s quite spectacular.” She read descriptions of the buildings around the square, starting with the three massive palazzi closest to them.

Rick listened and then they walked to one of them. “The thirteenth century must have been a prosperous time for Todi to get those three constructed. It couldn’t have been cheap, and as we can see, back then they built them to last.” He rapped his knuckles on the stone.

Betta snapped her book shut. “Let’s go to the cathedral and work our way back.”

Rick nodded and they headed toward the far end of the square.

“Rick!”

He looked up and saw Gina waving as she came down the stone steps of the Civic Museum. “So it was their car,” he said to Betta. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you in the Duomo in a few minutes.”

Betta sized up the woman coming down the stairs. “That’s all right, I’ll wait. You can introduce me. I can practice my limited English, since you never let me do it with you.”

“Don’t start on that again. You know what I’ve told you about relationships fracturing when one person tries to teach a language to the other.”

“I think you made that up.”

Gina was dressed in the same outfit she’d worn on the funicular, making Rick conclude that she liked to pack light. She was almost out of breath, even though she’d been coming down rather than ascending the stairs. She looked at Betta and back at Rick.

“Hi, Rick. Thank you for what you did yesterday morning, it made it much easier to deal with what happened to Mom.” She looked at