Chapter Ten

1224 Words
In an effort to avoid the annoying passenger to her right, Kate spent most of the flight pretending to be asleep. She had thought paying a little extra for a window seat would allow her the privilege of avoiding any eye contact and awkward conversations. It did no such thing. The man seated next to her was determined to strike up a conversation and use it as an excuse to lean over her. To look at what she thought, the clouds? There was absolutely nothing interesting to see out there, Kate wasn't even sure what to expect since this was her first time on an airplane. She thought there would be something more than the white cotton-like clouds she had been staring at for the past hour. She stretched her arms out and yawned as obviously as she could, excused herself from the conversation and leaned back in her seat. Resting her head against the hard cabin sidewall, she closed her eyes, trying to think of a way to calm her nerves. Kate had arrived at the airport over an hour ago. At first, she couldn't figure out where to pick up her luggage but a helpful flight attendant pointed her towards the baggage claim. There she stood, alone, waiting for her luggage to appear. It felt as she was surrounded by couples on their honeymoon. Others were alone but obviously on business, claiming a simple briefcase or an overnight bag but most were couples on their first trip away together, some possibly their last. Kate tried not to think about who she should have been here with. She passed through customs and handed her passport over to the attendant. Seeing her last name, he assumed she spoke the language and tried to strike up a conversation with Kate. She made every attempt to apologise, telling him she couldn't understand a word he was saying. A look of disappointed spread across his face and Kate felt terrible. She was annoyed with herself for not knowing at least some basic Italian. She decided that she would have try and find a class to take while she was here. The attendant handed Kate back her passport and motioned for the next person. Kate made her way over to the taxi bay, in search of her ride to the hotel. Kate's driver was ready to take off the second her backside was planted in the back seat of the limousine,  barely giving her a chance to close the door. She was still rushing to put her seatbelt on when he casually asked if she would like to see the sites on her way to the hotel. He spoke calmly, as if he was driving a leisurely  twenty five miles per hour and taking Kate on a slow scenic tour of the city. Kate managed to stammer a brief "no thanks," as she held onto her seat, and prayed she would make it to the hotel in one piece.  The lunatic who was whizzing Kate past peak hour traffic at a terrifying speed, was just about the most handsome man Kate had ever seen. He had been waiting for her at the front of the airport, holding up a sign that read: Signora Kate Moretti and introduced himself as her driver, Gianluca. It finally felt real, you couldn't wipe the smile off her face if you tried. Although at the speed they were now travelling, he just might have been able to. Gianluca had taken Kate's luggage and carried it to the vehicle that was waiting for them near the taxi bay. Kate was certainly not expecting something so incredibly classy, she had simply asked for a limo transfer to her hotel and here she had George Clooney in a Maserati! When they arrived at the little boutique hotel Kate had booked, Gianluca, the sexy formula one driver, brought her luggage to the front desk and handed Kate his card. Even though she would most definately never use his services again, she took the card anyway and thanked him for getting her to the hotel so, um, swiftly?  The owner of the hotel, who was checking Kate in to her room was an older man. He looked to be in his early sixties. Mario spoke a fair amount of English and called Kate signora a lot, something she was still getting used to. He was so very warm and welcoming, it made Kate feel as if she was at home. Mario handed Kate the key to her room, a map, a list of local amenities, the breakfast menu and a small paper booklet filled with nearby restaurants and tourist attractions.  Kate had already made her way up three flights of stairs before she heard the familiar ding of an elevator. She stopped on the third floor and had a brief look around, cursing under her breath for not checking while she was still on the ground floor. There, behind the staircase, was a tiny elevator, it looked as if it was designed for just a single person. It didn't even look like it could take the weight of her luggage but Kate was exhausted. She pushed the solitary button mounted on the wall and watched the doors stagger open as if the power was cutting in and out as they did. She hesitated before stepping inside, pulling her luggage in behind her. It was an excruciatingly slow and bumpy ride. She had only been in the country a few short hours but felt her life had already been put on the line one too many times. Kate finally reached her hotel room. Everything she held in her hands fell to the floor as she fished the hotel room key out of her shirt pocket, with it came her newly acquired St Christopher medallion, surely he was the reason she was still alive. She tucked the medallion into her purse for safekeeping and tried to open the door, turning the key left and then right. She tried turning the key and the door handle at the same time, she tried them alternately. After a few choice words and a third attempt, she managed to get the door open. Kate dragged her luggage inside the room and collapsed in a heap on the perfectly made bed.  The hotel room was exactly what she had imagined. The walls were covered in the same dark green fabric that hung on the curtain rails. From the small window, she could see the top of a balconette and many others hugging the outside of each hotel room. From what she could tell, most were being used to hang washing, not really serving a purpose for much else.  A small handheld shower hung over the yellowing glass door in the bathroom. The walls and floor of which were line with what seemed like a million black and white tiles that edged and jarred over and against each other, some looking as if they were threatening to come loose. It was old and it was perfect.  On the dresser stood a single long stemmed glass, a partially uncorked bottle of Tuscan red and a note welcoming Kate to the beautiful city of Rome. She poured herself a glass before unzipping even a single piece of luggage; she would have plenty of time to unpack tomorrow.   
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