The Juliet Club by Suzanne Harper

his lips as if this were of great interest and gestured toward someone on the other side of the room. “And the elderly woman in the purple dress?”
    â€œSignora Ricci,” Benno said agreeably. “Her family is very old. They’ve lived in Verona for centuries.”
    â€œInteresting, very interesting,” her father said, nodding sagely. “And, er, that woman over there, I wonder who she is?”
    There was a real note of interest in his voice this time, Kate thought, so she turned to take a closer look. The woman was tall and regal, both in her posture, which was perfect, and her dress, which was opulent. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple, elegant chignon. She moved in a stately fashion toward them, her mouth curved in a smile of secret amusement, as a small man bobbed eagerly along in her wake.
    The man, who was wearing a 1970s-era tuxedo, a bizarre red sash and—could those be platform shoes?—managed to shoot ahead of the mysterious woman at the last moment so that he could handle the introductions.
    â€œBuona sera!” he cried. “Allow me to introduce you to the driving force behind the conference, the creative genius who has brought international acclaim to the University of Verona and to our town, the author of books that have sold millions of copies worldwide, the brilliant Professoressa Francesca Marchese!”
    Kate felt her mouth drop open. This was the infamous, the wicked, the nefarious Professoressa Marchese?
    Kate snuck a quick look at her dad. He looked the same way he did that time last winter when he had slipped on an icy sidewalk and landed on his backside: too stunned to breathe.
    Francesca Marchese smiled and said in a sultry voice, “I am so glad to finally meet you in person, Dr. Sanderson. Although I’ve obviously known you by reputation for years.”
    Was it Kate’s imagination, or did Professoressa Marchese say the word reputation with a lemony touch of irony? She glanced sideways at her father and knew instantly that he suspected the same thing.
    He threw his head back in a challenging way and said, “Delighted, delighted,” sounding anything but. “I’ve followed your career with great interest as well. Although I must say I haven’t gotten around to reading The Shakespeare Secret yet.” He chuckled as if to say a fellow scholar would understand that. “You know how it is. One must stay current with the academic journals. Hard to find time for reading . . . hmm. What would you call your book? Popular fiction, I suppose.”
    â€œIndeed, I’m happy to say that it’s turned out to be quite popular,” she said calmly. “And I have always enjoyed your work, too, Dr. Sanderson. Although I don’t remember reading anything recently.” She took a sip of wine. “Perhaps I somehow missed your latest publication?”
    Her father did his best to stare disdainfully down his nose at her (which wasn’t easy; Professoressa Marchese was a tall woman and they stood eye-to-eye). “Actually, my next book will be published in the fall,” he boasted. “A massive work, the culmination of my career. My editor is very excited about it. In fact, she thinks it could enjoy great popular success as well.”
    â€œAh yes, it’s so rewarding to have a best-seller outside academic circles.” Professoressa Marchese paused just long enough for everyone to remember that she had already accomplished that feat. Twice. “I wish you the best of luck with it,” she added kindly.
    He glanced around the room as if looking for the nearest exit, and saw Lucy, Tom, and Silvia standing nearby, listening to this exchange with varying degrees of fascination and puzzlement.
    â€œI’m sorry, we’re forgetting our manners!” he cried heartily. “I don’t believe everyone’s been introduced. Professoressa Marchese, this is Lucy Atwell, Tom Boone, and my