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taller than both his parents by the sixth grade. But still. Shouldn’t Howard and I look at least a little bit alike?
    I kept my eyes glued to the ground. You’ll adjust in no time. He’s really a nice man. That from my grandmother, who as far as I knew had never even met Howard. At least not in person.
    An enormous blue bus went whooshing past, sending a blast of hot air into my face, and when I looked up, I gasped. What the  . . . ? Was I running through a scene from an Olive Garden menu? It was so idyllic . The road was lined with trees and curved gently past rustic-looking houses and buildings painted in soft, buttery colors. Patchwork hills stretched out into the distance and there were honest-to-goodness vineyards behind half the houses. So this was the Italy people were always talking about. No wonder people were always losing their minds over it.
    Another vehicle came roaring up behind me, honking loudly and jolting me from my Italian moment. I sprang away from the road and turned to look back. It was a small red car that looked like it was really, really trying to come across as more expensive than it was and as it neared me it slowed down. The driver and his passenger both had dark hair and were in their early twenties. When we made eye contact, the driver grinned and started honking again.
    â€œCalm down . It’s not like I’m in your way,” I said under my breath. The driver slammed on his brakes, like he’d somehow managed to hear me, then came to a stop right in the middle of the road. Another guy, maybe a year or two older, rolled down the window of the backseat, a big grin on his face.
    â€œCiao, bella! Cosa fai stasera?”
    I shook my head and started running again, but the driver just pulled ahead a few yards, coming to a stop on my side of the road.
    Great. After four years of running I knew all about this breed of guy. I don’t know who told them that “out running alone” was code for “please pick me up,” but I’d learned that telling them you weren’t interested wasn’t enough. They just thought you were playing hard to get.
    I crossed to the other side of the road and turned toward the cemetery, taking a second to tighten my shoelaces. Then I inhaled deeply, hearing an imaginary starting pistol in my mind. Go!
    There was a shout of surprise from the car. “ Dove vai ?”
    I didn’t even look back. If properly motivated I could pretty much outrun anyone—even Italian men in cheap red cars. I’d scale a fence if I had to.
    By the time I got back to the cemetery the guys had passed me twice more and then given up, and I’m pretty sure even my eyelids were sweating. Howard and Sonia were standing with their backs to the gate, but they both turned quickly when they heard me. Probably because I sounded like an asthmatic werewolf.
    â€œYou weren’t gone long. Are you okay?” Howard asked.
    â€œI . . . got . . . chased.”
    â€œBy who?”
    â€œA car . . . full of guys.”
    â€œThey were probably just smitten,” Sonia said.
    â€œWait a minute. A car full of guys chased you? What did they look like?” His jaw tightened and he looked toward the road like he was considering charging out there with a baseball bat or something.
    It kind of made up for the She’s so quiet comment.
    I shook my head, finally catching my breath. “It wasn’t really a big deal. I’ll just stay inside the cemetery next time.”
    â€œOr you could run behind the cemetery,” Sonia said. “There’s a gate that leads out behind the grounds. Those hills would probably give you a great workout, and it’s beautiful back there. And there’d be no cars to chase you.”
    Howard still had steam curling out of his nostrils, so I changed the subject. “Where are the Jorgansens?”
    Sonia grinned. “There was a bit of a . . .