It was strange being back in a place I had not visited since I was seven years old, but my grandmother was here, and I was attending my grandfather's funeral with her. One might think that I would have more feelings of grief, but I barely knew the man. My parents moved us suddenly one day, and they never looked back. I knew there had been issues with my grandfather in the past, but he was a historian and politician. He had been the mayor of Volterra for the past sixteen years, and from what I took in from the people around me, a very loved one as well.

I helped my grandmother to the front of the gravesite, where we found our seats before the service began. It was not a short service by any means. Many people, including government officials from neighboring towns, stood up to speak their respects. By the time it was over, the sun was beginning to set over the horizon, and I had to help my grandmother see her way to the car.

When we reached it, a young man appeared and casually opened the door for us. I hadn't seen him at the service, but for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar. An amazingly beautiful woman walked up to him, as I thanked him, and helped my grandmother into the passenger seat.

"I am very sorry for your loss. Piero was an excellent man to work with," she said to my grandmother before turning to me. "You must be Liliana, Piero's granddaughter. He spoke of you often."

I smiled politely. "Did he? Unfortunately, I didn't get to spend as much time around him as I would've liked."

"Some of his effects are still at the Priori if you would like to come by and pick them up when you have a chance. There's no rush."

"Thank you. I can be by tomorrow morning. Who should I ask for?"

"My name is Chelsea. The secretary up in the front on the ground floor can contact me when you arrive." I saw the male she stood next to narrow his eyes, and she placed a hand on his arm. "Shall we, Demetri? It is getting quite late," then to me, "I will see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course."

Almost immediately, they disappeared somewhere into the crowd of cars, and though I searched quickly, my eyes could not find them. There were quite a few people who came out. I walked to the driver's side and got in before taking off and heading back into town to my grandmother's house. I would stay with her for now, but even her health was not that great.

After the sudden loss of my grandfather, I was told by the neighbors who checked on her that my grandmother had stopped eating, and she barely left home. She often muttered silly things that were not comprehensible, and as horrible as it made me feel, I knew she wouldn't last much longer. Part of me felt a sense of relief. I could not bear to watch someone sit around all day and suffer, dying a little more every second and every hour that passed.

I resigned myself to focus more on what I would do when I was free to leave, not that I was not free to leave, but it would be the wrong thing to do. Besides, she was my grandmother, and I was the only family she had. My parents were ill-advised for me coming here at all, but I made a choice. Someone had to stay with her and help her out.

I also had another more selfish reason. I missed Italy. This was my home, and although I had dual citizenship and could visit anytime I wished, I never had the chance after we moved. My parents refused to travel back, so my grandparents visited us much to my parents' dislike. Being again in Volterra after so many years brought up many memories, good and bad.

More than anything, I missed the culture and sense of community. Everyone knew everyone here, or so it seemed, and everyone was welcomed. It was a significant tourist attraction in season, rich in Etruscan history and supernatural myth, which the locals often used to their advantage to sell souvenirs. It was all baloney, of course, but some of them, including my grandfather, believed it to be one hundred percent true.

Some of his stories gave me nightmares at night, and I often wonder if that's why we left. My father and grandfather would often argue over what he should and should not say to me, and the old make-believe stories were at the top of the list. But I didn't care. I loved them anyway.

I got my grandmother to bed and turned out the light before going into the kitchen and making a list of things that I would need to buy at the market this weekend. The house wasn't stocked at all, but it was not too much of a surprise. Tomorrow, I would head to the commune as well to check in on my grandfather's things. The sooner, the better on that one. Something felt uneasy about those two from earlier.

I finally grabbed a book before sitting in the lounger and opening it to read. When I glanced up again, it was morning.