The Juliet Club by Suzanne Harper Page B

clumsy if one were being kind , and one would realize that the theory that he actually wrote Shakespeare’s plays is laughably ill conceived.”
    This, despite the fact that no one had even mentioned Edward de Vere.
    Kate had tried chatting with them, but every conversational gambit was met with pained smiles and pitying looks. Finally, tired of being snubbed, she gave up. Kate’s father immediately began holding court with this little group, discoursing about everything from the accuracy of the history plays to whether Shakespeare favored drinking cider or beer. They listened to him with rapt attention and completely ignored Kate, Lucy, and Tom.
    Kate frowned at a cloud drifting by. It looked like a hedgehog. Over lunch, Cynthia had lectured the table for twenty minutes about Shakespeare’s usage of the word hedgehog . It had been remarkably tedious.
    Kate made a face at the cloud and flipped through a few more pages of the pamphlet. “It says here that Professoressa Marchese commissioned statues of Shakespearean characters for the garden after she bought the villa,” she remarked idly. “It might be fun to look for them.”
    â€œStatues?” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Maybe later, when it cools off.” She slid off the bench to join Kate on the ground. “I wonder where Giacomo is. You’d think he’d be at lunch, since he lives in the villa.”
    Kate shrugged. “Off doing his own thing, I suppose. He must have lots of friends in Verona.” She yawned. Everyone else had trooped upstairs for a siesta after their meal, an Italian tradition which her father had said was one more indication that this was the most civilized country on earth. Both Kate and Lucy had felt too excited to take a nap. But now, Kate felt her eyes closing. The garden was quiet except for the hum of bees going about their business and birds chirping in a nearby tree. In the distance, a church bell rang, and Kate’s happiness was complete. Nothing could disturb this sense of peace and well-being and complete contentment. . . .
    â€œYou know, I was just thinking,” Lucy said. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a summer romance in Italy?”
    Annoyed, Kate opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Lucy, who was smiling, her eyes closed against the sun. “Rather unoriginal, though,” Kate said repressively. “And have you read the syllabus? And the reading list? We won’t have time for romance.”
    Lucy chuckled. “Oh, Kate, you are a hoot !”
    Kate sat up, no longer drowsy. She pulled up a blade of grass and began shredding it methodically.
    â€œAnd speaking of romance,” Lucy went on dreamily, “he is gorgeous, isn’t he?”
    Kate pulled up an entire handful of grass and resisted the temptation to throw it in Lucy’s face. “Who?”
    Lucy turned her head to look at Kate, her blue eyes astonished. “Giacomo, of course!”
    â€œOh.” Kate’s tone was dismissive. “Him.”
    â€œYes, him ! Honestly, Kate!” Lucy said, exasperated.
    â€œLooks aren’t everything,” Kate said. “After all,” she quoted, “‘the devil hath power t’assume a pleasing shape.’”
    â€œOh, he’s not the devil!” Lucy protested.
    â€œNo, I know, that’s not what I—”
    â€œAlthough if he was ,” Lucy interrupted, “I can tell you that any girl on earth would be tempted to sell her soul.”
    â€œNot me!” Kate sniffed.
    â€œBut you just admitted that he has a pleasing shape.”
    â€œNo, no, that was Shakespeare who said—”
    â€œAnd, anyway, I don’t care what you think.” She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes with finality. “In my opinion, a little romance is just what this seminar needs to make it abso lute ly perfect.”
    Kate tossed her handful of shredded grass to the ground. Why was everyone