The next morning found them wandering through the small market at the heart of Florence. Blair wore a simple white dress, her hair braided halfway and left to cascade freely down her shoulders. Hazel darted between the market stalls, her eyes wide with wonder at the neat rows of olives, pastries decorated like precious gems, and bottles of olive oil that gleamed in the morning sunlight.
"Look at this one, Blair!" Hazel called out, pointing to a particularly elaborate cake shaped like a flower. "It's so pretty! Do you think it tastes as good as it looks?"
Blair laughed, catching up to the excited girl. "I'm sure it does, sweetheart. Everything here looks delicious."
They moved through the market with unhurried steps, collecting ingredients for an afternoon picnic—fresh bread still warm f
