CHAPTER THIRTY
Remi swung around, a frantic excuse caught in her throat. Before her stood a rotund little priest wearing thick glasses.
Before she could form words, the priest said in Italian, “Welcome to our church. Are you visiting from far away?”
“Um,” Remi coughed. “Yes. I’m French. I teach art at an, um, private school for teenagers. I love Gothic architecture and I wanted to visit your church since it has many well preserved features. Remarkable, isn’t it? Such fine carvings on the column capitals. And that baptismal font? Beautiful! It’s, ah … ”
Remi realized she was babbling and stopped.
The priest smiled. “It’s so nice to meet a foreigner visitor. We don’t get many. And one who speaks lovely Italian too!” Then he gestured behind her, making her heart clench. “And what’s this
