After her divorce from Dietrich Lindsey in 1988, Holly travels to Italy and meets a handsome stranger. She could swear she never saw him before, but then again...This story begins the fall of 1988. It takes place in Europe and Springfield.

The sun was setting down on Rome. Holly Lindsey was strolling down the streets of the Trastevere, looking for a restaurant which would not turn out to be a tourist trap. After eight years in Europe, she had gotten pretty good at spotting the authentic ones. She finally settled for a place on the Piazza del Ponziani. She was in the mood for pasta carbonara, with a glass of white wine, or hell, maybe two.

She sat outside on the tiny terrace, looking at the rising moon and enjoying the sweetness of the evening breeze, which was still balmy in the last days of September. As of today, she thought, she was finally a free woman. Her divorce had been finalized that very morning and she had left Switzerland for Italy immediately after.

She thought of Dietrich, her ex-husband. He had been good to her and Chrissy, and had provided the security she so craved for after leaving Springfield. He had also provided her with career opportunities, by giving her control of one of his radio stations. He had given her independence, and for that she would always be grateful to him.

Despite all of that, it had become obvious in the last few months that their marriage was no longer viable. For years, she had loved to be with him, but had she loved him? She doubted it now. They had grown to fight over the silliest matters and it came to a point where neither of them could see any way out other than divorce. She suspected that at best, they would remain polite acquaintances.

"Where to now?" she mused, sipping her glass of wine. That was why she had come to Italy: to have some quiet time and to plan her next move. She did not want to keep working for Dietrich. Paris tempted her, as well as London, or even New York. She had ruled out Springfield from the start, shuddering at the mere thought of returning to the hellhole where she had met and married Roger Thorpe.

If only she knew where her daughter was, she might go and join her, though she suspected that she might not be welcomed. In the last year, their relationship had become so strained that when Chrissy had decided to travel abroad after her studies, Holly had not tried to stop her. At first, she had called and sent postcards from Europe, then from various countries in South America. It had been three months since the last one and Holly was starting to get seriously worried. She sighed, wondering why it had always been so hard to get along with her daughter. At times, it seemed that the only thing that they had in common was their red hair.

She snapped back to reality when a waiter asked her if she wanted dessert. The semi-freddo was excellent, he assured her. She declined and opted for a short espresso. Looking around, she noticed a man looking at her intently from the next table. Tall, blond, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, he looked like the prototype of the handsome American. In fact, he looked a little bit like Ken, though less proper than the doll version, she thought, silently laughing at her private joke. Taking her smile as an invitation, he got up and asked in a very good Italian if he could join her for coffee. She accepted in English, acknowledging that she was a fellow citizen. If he was surprised by her answer, he did not show it.

Upon seeing him up close, Holly realized that he was younger than she thought; in his mid-twenties at most. The business suit and the confident air had fooled her into thinking that he was older. This made their age difference jump into the double digits, a fact that amused her even more.

"I am Holly," she said, extending her right hand to shake his.

"And I am Phillip," the man replied with a playful smile.

Philip Spaulding was having a very good time, a thing that had not happened too often in the last few weeks. In fact, not since he had learned that Meredith Reade was carrying his baby. He would have been a proud father-to-be if it had not been from the fact that Meredith was engaged to his best friend, Rick Bauer. Yep, he thought for the hundredth time, that tiny little detail was all that it took to turn him into a world-class asshole. This business trip away from Springfield was heaven-sent.

He sighed. He was not going to think about that tonight, not with a woman like the beautiful redhead at his side. After coffee, they had decided to walk along the river and had been talking for more than an hour. He had been immediately charmed by her caustic sense of humour, which was not unlike his own. He found her witty, sophisticated, not to mention gorgeous. He liked that she was older and the aura of mystery that she kept about herself. She had not told him her last name and had not asked for his.

Instead of talking about their personal lives, they chatted about politics, books they had both read, movies they had seen, their favourite Europeans cities. He was startled when she mentioned, offhandedly, that she had a grown-up daughter. She looked too young to have a daughter past her teens. Besides, he could have sworn earlier at the table that she was not wearing a wedding ring. He discretely tried to look again.

She caught him glancing at her hands and gave a little laugh. She held up her left one for him to have a good look.

"No ring. Is that what you were looking for?" she said, still smiling.

"Living in sin, are you?" he answered, not missing a beat.

Holly laughed again before explaining: "The father of my daughter has been dead for a long time now". She looked away, seeming to return far back into her past.

"So you are a widow? How charming! Are you a tragic widow or a merry one?" said Philip lightly, sensing that he better cheer her up.

"Neither; we were divorced before he died. I got remarried after that." She hesitated and added: "Then I got divorced again. Today."

Philip stopped in his tracks, giving her an incredulous look. "Today?"

She did not answer so after a while he asked: "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a good thing, I guess."

"Great, then we must celebrate!" Philip cried, picking up a flower on the riverbank and handing it to her with a smile.

They crossed the river by the next bridge and soon found a wine bar where the music was soft and the lights were dimmed. Holly noticed that Philip led her directly to the cosiest table in the back. She reflected that life often had a way of sending the right person at the right time. Tonight, she needed to distract herself, and she could sense that, for all his apparent cheerfulness, the same was true for him.

They left the bar at closing time, both slightly wobbly on their feet. The wine was excellent, and there had been so many toasts to make. Holly could hardly remember the way to her hotel. Instead of hailing a cab, they decided to walk again for a bit in silence. They had run out of things to say but did not feel like parting, though neither of them dared to say it out loud.

Finally, Philip stopped in front of an elegant building and said: "This is me." He hesitated and then asked:" Shall I call you a cab?"

Holly looked down, willing herself to say that yes, she wanted a cab. After all, she did not know this man at all, and he was so much younger than she was. Really, it would be ridiculous of her to stay. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps. A lock had escaped her loose updo and he gently replaced it behind her ear. Their eyes met and they could both feel something stir inside. "Unless…" he began.

"Unless?" She asked, slightly out of breath.

"Unless you would like to see my suite before you go? The view on the Tevere is amazing." Philip replied, stepping closer.

Holly swallowed hard before answering. "I would love too".

And just like that, she followed him inside. After all, she reasoned, he was not wearing a wedding ring either.

Still half-asleep, Philip turned in bed and reached for Holly, only to found an empty spot where her body had been. Sitting up, he woke up for good and got out of bed, assuming that she was in the apartment somewhere.

Their night had been amazing. More than amazing. She had given herself to him as if it was the last time she ever made love. Now, he wanted more.

It did not take him long to realize, however, that she was gone. At first, he hoped that she had just stepped out to get them coffee. After a while, he had to admit to himself that she was not coming back. He felt a pang of disappointment. He would have loved to see her again, even if just to say goodbye. Also, he could not shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her, and he wanted to ask her if maybe they had not met before.

He dressed and headed downstairs. Two notes were waiting for him at the front desk. The first one was from Blake, asking him to call him back in Springfield regarding an urgent business matter. He read it with a twinge of guilt. Blake was not his girlfriend exactly, so technically he had not been unfaithful. He had been pursuing her for the last few weeks, however, and it was obvious to everyone that they would soon become an item. He shrugged the guilt away. She was never going to know.

The second note was written on the hotel paper. He opened it quickly, ripping the paper in his haste. It was from her.

"Philip,

The view from your suite was trulyextraordinary. I will never forget it.

Have a good life,

Holly"

There were no indications or clues as to where she was from or where she might have gone. She had simply vanished into thin air.