CHAPTER ONE
Diana St. James clutched the old Gaelic coin in her hand and looked at the words she’d written last in her itinerary book: On this trip, you must do something that scares you at least once a day.
What she was about to do in Barcelona? That definitelycounted.
She’d been thinking about fate, about things that were just meant to be, since before the Eurorail train reached Zurich. Now, on her way to Barcelona, she couldn’t help wondering if something meant-to-be would be waiting for her in the train station.
After all, sometimes, the things that came easiest to her, the ones that just fell in her lap, wound up being the most precious. The most welcome. Just like Stephane, the beautiful exchange student she’d met, all those years ago, and the lost love of her life. It was like they were drawn to her, because they simply fit. They were the things that altered her life in the best of ways.
Touching the octagonal sides of the coin, she wondered if this was one of those things. She’d been ruing not following Stephane to Paris for twenty years.
So, if this was meant to be, it was her duty to see it through. No regrets. Not anymore.
Yawning, she peered out at the Spanish countryside, awash in moonlight. The dark outlines of mountains rose in the distance, black against the velvet blue sky. Occasionally, there was a light from a village, but the sparseness of them told her that Barcelona was still far away.
She looked at the messages she’d exchanged with Sean:
Sean: I’m waiting in the station for you.
Diana: Sorry! I think the train will be late. We were delayed in Zurich.
Sean: No worries. I’ll get a beer.
That had been over an hour ago. She could just imagine her handsome Irish friend, who she’d only met on two occasions, waiting for her. It seemed like such an imposition for someone she barely knew.
She typed in: I am so sorry. Still nowhere near Barcelona. Feel free to go back to your hotel. We can meet up tomorrow.
Since she couldn’t see much, she imagined Don Quixote charging at windmills, Sancho Panza at his side. Then she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.
It was nearly half past eight. There’d been the delay in Zurich, and then another delay at some town on the Spanish border, and now the train that was supposed to get to Barcelona by eight was still powering through Spain, on its way to the station. She’d had three cups of coffee, but she was still dragging. If she were back home in New York, she’d be in her pajamas right now, curling up on her sofa with a cup of tea and a good book, ready for bed.
Diana pulled her eyes open. That was one thing she’d learned during her time traveling solo through Europe—she had no one else to rely upon. No one to wake her if she fell asleep and missed her stop. And the last thing she wanted to do was wind up in some strange town on the Spanish coast, far away from her destination.
That made her miss her ex-husband, Evan. Not that he was much of a world-traveler—well, he hadn’t been until he’d met his young fiancé, Tilda, anyway. Maybe what she missed most was a male companion. Someone to see to her, make sure she was taken care of.
Someone to love her.
She groaned. If being with Evan had taught her anything, it was that love was nice, but it never existed on its own. It always came with complications. So many complications, it almost made a person wonder if it was worth the security of having someone to shake you awake at your stop.
That’s why, though her heart had fluttered girlishly when she’d gotten the invitation to meet Sean in Barcelona, she’d immediately tamped down any fantasies of moonlit walks and second weddings. It would be fun. Two friends, touring the town together. No expectations.
Then she looked down at her phone and saw a message from Sean: How can I go one more night without seeing you?
The flutters returned.
A moment later, he added to the message. I’ll meet you at the statue of the giant cat. Whenever you arrive, love, is fine by me.
She stared at the message, now willing the train to go faster. So if she got there at midnight, he’d still be waiting for her? The horror. She dreaded the thought of arriving in Spain, only to have to go right to bed. She wanted to explore. Suddenly, she felt wide awake.
Grabbing her phone, she looked up Giant Cat Barcelona. The last thing she wanted to do was get lost, at night, in a strange city. Sean was so nonchalant about these sights, because he’d seen it all before. He’d left his hometown of Ballygangargin a month ago, and had been tooling around Europe, ever since. All of these places were so new to Diana, who’d never been anywhere until a month ago.
The first thing that popped up was the statue of a great lion, at the base of the Christopher Columbus statue, in the city center. Her GPS told her it was only a fifteen-minute cab ride from Barcelona-Sants, the train station.
Giant cat? Cute, Sean. Very cute. But that was Irishmen, for you. They had such a unique outlook on things.
Eventually the single, distant lights became numerous, brighter, and closer, and the traffic on the streets increased. The small village homes gave way to tightly packed, modern high-rises, and the narrow dirt roads became paved thoroughfares. A moment later, the wheels of the train began to squeal to a halt.
Barcelona! She was finally here!
The bright lights inside the train blinked on, momentarily blinding her. Taking a moment to text Lily and Bea, her daughters, that she’d finally arrived, she listened to the garbled announcement of the arrival over the loudspeaker.
Then she pulled out a compact and checked her reflection. Her dishwater blonde hair was still neat and styled in a springy, swingy bob, and though some of her make-up had disappeared, her face didn’t carry the marks of the exhaustion she felt—no sagging, puffy undereye circles or deep wrinkles. She ran her berry-colored lipstick over her lips, blotted with a tissue, and smiled to make sure she had nothing on her teeth. Fifty-four, and not all that bad, Diana, she thought.
She grabbed her small travel bag and went through it. Passport? Check. Wallet? Check. Phone? Check. Itinerary? Check.
All the necessities. With those, she could go anywhere. She was ready.
She headed down the aisle, and out onto the concourse. Then she stood there, staring at the signs. I took a year of Spanish in grade school before I settled on French, she thought, looking both ways at all the people, heading purposefully toward their destination. But darned if I can remember a single word of it.
Sí.
There. That was a start.
It didn’t matter. She’d had the same worries in France, Italy, and Austria. She’d been absolutely terrified when she’d stepped off the plane at Charles de Gaulle. But she’d made her way. If she’d learned anything over the past couple of months, it was that she might get a little lost, veer off course, but eventually, things did work out.
The good thing about every train station she’d been to was that they operated on the understanding that people might not speak the language. This station was no exception—there was a sign that said TAXI, with a big arrow. Apparently, taxi was the same in most languages.
The taxi line wasn’t busy. Moments later, she was in a cab, heading toward the Mirador de Colón.
As she rode, she passed many things she’d like to see in daylight. The Placa de España, with its many majestic fountains and historic buildings. Two brick-façade towers stood like sentinels on either side of the street as they drove past, headed for the fountain. She wanted to find out what all the statues were for, but that would involve looking at her phone—and she didn’t want to miss a thing.
Plus, as she wiped her hands on the front of her slacks, she realized something else. They were clammy.
She was nervous about her “date” with Sean.
And rightly so. Though she wasn’t sure she could call it a date, really, how long had it been since she’d met up with another man, even for a casual get-together?
Too long, she thought. Far too long. I’m rusty.
Then she realized that all those places she’d wanted to explore? She’d imagined herself exploring them, with Sean. As she did, a little shiver shimmered through her.
Oh, Diana. I hope you’re not setting yourself up for disappointment.
The car made its way through rather light evening traffic, toward a blue oblivion. When Diana caught sight of a large cruise ship, floating ahead, she realized that they were close to the sea. Eventually, though, it stopped at a plaza, with a large spire. She had to crane her neck to see the statue of the person atop it. “Colón?” she asked the driver, referring to the statue of Christopher Columbus.
He nodded.
“Big cat? Gato?” That wasn’t what she was looking for. “Um . . . lion? Leon?”
He looked confused for a moment, but then nodded and motioned a bit forcefully, like he wanted her to leave.
“Gracias,” she said when she paid her fare and stepped out on the curb. The cab sped away, almost before she’d closed the door.
She heaved a breath and looked around, ...
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