The Body in the Piazza - By Katherine Hall Page Page 0,1

roll stuffed with fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, sliced tomato, and basil that gave a nod toward her destination, while Tom had said he’d opt for whatever the galley served up. That had been “steak tips with seasonal vegetables.” She’d commented pointedly that the vegetables must represent some fifth or even sixth season as yet unknown to man and he’d responded by asking her to order a meal for herself. Like the old joke, the food might be lousy, but the portions were too small—especially in this case, when the airlines were cutting back on everything from pillows to peanuts. Tom had consumed his meal and hers, too, commenting that he liked the challenge of eating from those little trays with doll-size cutlery.

Faith was an unashamedly admitted food snob. It went with the territory. She’d started her successful catering business, Have Faith, in the Big Apple just before meeting Tom and restarted it in the more bucolic orchards of New England when their second child, Amy, began nursery school.

Since she’d eschewed the breakfast offered in flight—what looked like some kind of ancient Little Debbie snack cake and brown-colored water passing for coffee (she’d sniffed Tom’s cup)—Faith hadn’t had any food for hours, never a good thing in her book, and the only question now, here in foodie paradise, was where to start?

“Happy, darling?” Tom asked. The trip was an anniversary one and had been his very own idea. “A significant anniversary deserves a significant marking,” he’d said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. People didn’t do that in the Fairchilds’ neighborhood back home; they did in Rome.

“Very—and very hungry.”

“The hotel’s not far, so why don’t we check in and then eat? The rooms won’t be ready this early, but we can leave the bags.”

“Okay, but let me get one of these little tarts first,” Faith said. They were passing a bakery, the Forno Campo De’ Fiori smack on the square, and she had her eye on what looked like some kind of crostate oozing with apricots that was seductively displayed with other pastries, pizza, and panini in the window.

Tom decided he needed one, too, and several pignoli-studded almond cookies. Munching contentedly, they were soon making their way across the market to the street leading to the hotel. As Faith passed the monk’s statue, the morning sun cast his shadow in their path and, feeling superstitious, she pulled Tom to the side to avoid walking through it. Kind of a “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” thing she told herself. She also told herself “better safe than sorry.” Nothing was going to spoil this trip.

She adored her two children: Ben, despite his occasional irritating teen attitude—had she and her younger sister, Hope, similarly known absolutely everything in the world at that age?—and Amy, feet still planted firmly in childhood with a passion for Harry Potter. Yes, Faith could honestly say that most of the time she not only loved her children but liked being with them. That said, she was joyfully anticipating the almost two weeks stretching out before her sans the crises that made up her everyday life: a science project due tomorrow and not started; a mean girl spreading rumors that Amy had B.O.; and every Sunday morning the mad dash to get the Reverend Thomas Fairchild in a clean collar and matching black socks—well sometimes one was navy blue. When Faith had mentioned the possibility of the trip to her closest friend and next-door neighbor, Pix Miller, Pix had immediately offered herself and husband, Sam, as in loco parentis not just in spirit but in fact. Empty nesters, they would simply move next door for the duration. “It will be fun,” she’d said. “And good practice for grandparenthood.” Pix was a bit older than Faith and like Virgil guiding Dante had steered her through the perilous shoals of everything from toilet training to how to get the teacher you wanted at Aleford Elementary.

After the Millers’ offer, the rest of the plans fell into place with surprising ease. Faith’s assistant, Niki Constantine, was more than capable of running things at Have Faith for the duration with the help of Trisha Phelan, one of the firm’s part-time workers. Niki was a new mom and had been bringing the baby to work with her, which would continue until, she told her boss, “The little darling learns to walk and becomes a nuisance.” Since she spent every waking minute of the tiny girl’s life cuddling her adoringly, Faith doubted