Fire in the Hills (21 page)

“How?”

“Raising silkworms. Like your family. She already tried once. But last time her mouser got into the shed. He knocked over the tray and that was the end of the worms.”

“Worms and cats don't mix well,” I say agreeably.

“This time, she'll fasten the doors and shutters tight.”

“Good for her. I hope her business thrives.” I fight off a heavy feeling. Their shed is small; there's no room for much there. “You better get those orchids home before they suffer too long in the crate.”

“Yup. Delicate, they are, wildflowers. But I'll gather more tomorrow and the next day, just in case. Then I'll get them growing steady and strong in pots.” Cristiano places the orchid back in the crate. He straightens up and looks at me with an expression I can't read. “Did you speak true? You really think that one's the bestest in the world?”

“I told you I did.”

“Want to know where I found it?”

Something sly in his tone warns me off. I cross my arms. “It can stay your secret.”

“Ah, but near those orchids there's something you'll want to see, Monna Elisabetta. Something furry . . . and warm . . . and cuddly.”

I drop my arms in surrender. “All right, you win. What's there?”

“A den with eight—eight!—hare kits. Want to know now?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“What will you give me if I tell you?”

“What do you want?”

“A kiss.”

I stare, dumbfounded. Then I turn and walk up the slope.

“I knew you'd be too stuck-up. Monna Nobility, that's your true name, all right.”

When I look back, Paco's the only one left. The dog regards me expectantly, his tail held straight and horizontal. He gives a single quick wag, then disappears after Cristiano. That's the most attention that dog has ever given me.

Tears roll down my cheeks. I didn't mean to hurt Cristiano. I've just never thought of him that way. He's right; I never could think of him that way. He is a country bumpkin. I wouldn't have put it in those crude words, but that's how he put it, and he's right. My coming party has made it obvious—to everyone but me.

My life is about to change. Radically. It's Mamma's wish. And Cristiano has no right to try to make me feel bad about it.

Monna Nobility—what a nasty thing to call me. Here Mamma thinks I don't act noble enough, and Cristiano thinks I act it too much. I can't please anyone.

I move quickly through the woods now. I have half a mind to toss the white truffle away. Instead, I tuck it into the tie at my waist. I might not be lucky enough to find another.

But I can find orchids on my own. And if Cristiano wasn't lying about those hare kits, my nose will lead me from the orchids to them. I head uphill. What I need is a ravine between peaks. That's where peat bogs lie; that's where orchids grow. I march.

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