“She’s adorable. I used to help my sister-in-law with her kids when I got vacation. They loved to pull off my veil at this age.” And the Pope will approve the Pill before my brother will let them see me again.
“Why the frown?”
Giulia shook it off. “Sorry. Just thinking of my family. Holidays are the worst for that kind of memory.”
“I forgot your family’s got their collective heads up their asses.”
Giulia snorted.
“Ha. Made you laugh.” He walked over to the iDock and scrolled through the songs. “You like Nat King Cole?”
“Of course.” She blew a raspberry into Helen’s belly button and Helen giggled. It sounded so good, Giulia did it again. More giggles.
“Caroling, Caroling” began. Giulia sang it to Helen, and Frank joined in from his spot by the tree. When she glanced over at him, he was still squatting next to the player, an odd look on his face as he watched her.
Sean entered the room. “For the love of God, Frank, stop singing. You’ll make the baby cry.”
“Go n-ithe an cat thú, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat,” Frank said without heat.
A loud noise from Helen’s diaper punctuated the Irish sentence. Frank laughed.
Sean turned on the old people still at the table. “Granddad, what did you teach Frank that you didn’t teach the rest of us?”
The Driscolls’ grandfather gave Frank a thumbs-up.
His mother-in-law poked him. “You’re going to burn in Hell.”
“That’s where the party will be. Sean, that means ‘May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat.’ Francis, your accent is slipping.”
“I’ll work on it, Granddad.”
Darlene came three feet into the room and stopped dead. “Whoa! The little princess left me an early Christmas present.” She scooped up the baby by her armpits. “That’s one full diaper, there, missy. Let’s go. Thanks for watching her.”
“Caroling, Caroling” finished, and “The Christmas Waltz” began. Frank tapped Giulia on the shoulder and the next moment they were waltzing on the gold-and-white carpet.
“You’re quite smooth, Mr. Astaire,” Giulia said in Frank’s ear.
“Taught by my grandmother over there, who won dance competitions in her wild youth.” Frank pulled her closer. “You’re about to drop a broad hint about babies and hope and how can I look at Helen and even think about giving up on finding Katie, aren’t you?”
Giulia turned her face into his shoulder. “Curse you, Frank Driscoll. When did I become so easy to read?”
“Only on certain subjects. Now that that’s out of the way, allow me to tell you again how beautiful you look tonight.” He twirled her around the carpet exactly in time to the easy pulse of the song.
“Thank you. I’m glad your Grinch tie doesn’t play music.”
The song ended. Giulia felt a pang of disappointment—dancing with Frank was a pleasure she wanted to continue as long as possible. Until he kissed her.
His kiss was as slow and intimate as the dance. His arms wrapped around her waist and hers curled around his neck. Warmth filled her, making her knees just a little trembly.
Several loud whistles interrupted them. Together they looked in the direction of the noise. Every Driscoll adult stood in the doorway, applauding and whistling some more.
Giulia knew her face matched the red velvet of her skirt.
“Hide the kids, Eva,” Tina said.
“No, no, bring ’em in here,” Daniel said. “They can learn something.”
“Pervert,” Eva said.
Fiona pushed through the crowd. “Dad, what are you teaching Frank now?”
Sean said, “Don’t blame Granddad for that kiss. Frank took the initiative for this display himself.”
Frank got in Sean’s face. “Don’t embarrass Giulia.”
“Hey, you were the—” He looked twice at Frank and raised his eyebrows. “No problem, little brother.”
Fiona raised her voice. “Robert! Did you find the cards yet?”
“Coming.” The Driscoll boys’ father sounded like he was in a closet.
“Pat, would you see if anyone needs a drink?” Fiona came over to Giulia. “We play darts and Twenty-five before dessert.”
Giulia’s face returned to its normal color now that everyone wasn’t staring at her. “I’ve played competitive darts, but not Twenty-five.”
“I’ll teach you Twenty-five before my children get too many whiskies in them. The play gets a little wild then.”
“Ma! Ma! Uncle Pat says Gwen and me can play darts this year ’cause we’re finally eleven years old!” Ben ran into the room behind Pat, Gwen on his heels.
“Thanks, Pat,” Michael and Daniel said in unison. “You can repair Ma’s wallpaper when these two miss the board.”
Pat grinned. “I told Ma that any repairs were part of your Christmas present to her.”
“You’re a bad priest, Father Patrick, and you’ll come to a nasty end.”
“On the contrary, I’m dutiful to my mother and small children love me. That makes me quite Jesus-like.”
Giulia and Fiona laughed. The kids looked puzzled.
Daniel said, “Ben, where are Colin and Josh?”
“Downstairs. Josh challenged Colin to a Guitar Hero battle. Colin says he’s going to make Josh beg for mercy.”
“Good. Less jockeying for position. Wait—” He looked around. “We’re missing Joey.”
Darlene returned with a much better-smelling Helen. “He’s rehearsing his song for the school play tomorrow night. I promised to call him for dessert and carols.”
The chaos in the room broke into smaller clumps.
“Ha! Ten points. You’re gonna lose lose lose, Gwenny!”
“Let me cut those cards, Mike.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Double ten, hah to you!”
Frank resumed his seat next to Giulia. “All right, Falcone, prepare for a smackdown.”
Giulia smiled sweetly at Frank. “Did you ever wonder what nuns do on long winter nights after prayers and before bed?”
“Uh …”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. We played cards.” Giulia cracked her knuckles. “Ready?”
EIGHTEEN
“I LOVE YOUR FAMILY,” Giulia said in the car on the way back to her apartment.
“Mom let me know that you have the Matriarch Seal of Approval.”
She laughed. “Why?”
“Because you’re charming and polite and good with kids and can beat me at cards.” He paid attention to the road for a minute. “Also, let’s just say the last two women I brought home were not exactly the right choices.”
“I gathered that when your nieces and nephews interrogated me.”
“Christ above, I wanted to strangle those brats.”
She laughed again. It was past eleven and she was tired and comfortably full from dinner. She was glad the roads required attention; otherwise she’d have been tempted to snuggle against Frank. And after an evening of warmth and family, her common sense was snoring under a fluffy blanket of “belonging again.” I’m still not ready to make a commitment to Frank. Tonight would be a dangerous time to make such a decision. We’re both all Christmased-up. She snugged her alpaca-wool gloves—bought from Sidney’s family store—tighter on her fingers. I wonder if I’m technically on the rebound from my ten-year marriage—my divorce from Jesus came through less than two years ago.
She snickered under her breath.
“What’s so funny?”
Oops. “Nothing. It’s silly.”
He turned onto her street. “You are stuffy, spiritual, strict, and sometimes funny, but I can state with confidence that you are never silly.”
“That’s not a desirable catalogue of attractions.”
“Depends on your point of view.” He pulled into her parking lot and idled the car.
She gave him a sly smile. “That’s a broad hint, Mr. Driscoll. Come see m
e safe inside, please.”
“I’d be happy to.” He turned off the ignition.
She didn’t wait for him to open the door for her. Regardless of his chivalric training, she was too used to doing everything for herself. She did let him take her arm without even the excuse to herself that he was steadying her across the icy parking lot.
The thin hall carpet muffled their booted feet, giving Old Man Krieger across the hall no excuse to play voyeur. To add to the lovely feeling of privacy, Giulia knew how to open and close a door in near-silence.
“Why do you keep this place so cold?”
“It’s set at sixty-five. If this were spring or fall, you’d call it balmy.” She flicked on the light and turned the thermostat up to sixty-eight. “It’ll warm up soon. Would you like coffee?”
He unbuttoned his coat. “No thanks. I’m stuffed to the gills.”
“Me too. Come sit on the couch. I’ll find you an afghan and light the tree.”
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, muffled, sounded from her purse.
“Who could be calling at this hour?” And why are they interrupting potential snogging time? “Hello?”
“Giulia, they called us. They’re sick, twisted, evil people.” Laurel’s voice came thick and broken, the voice of someone after a long crying jag.
“What? Wait a sec. I’m going to put you on speaker.” She beckoned Frank over and set the phone on the kitchen table. “All right, go ahead. Frank’s here, too.”
Anya this time, angry rather than weepy: “A woman called a few minutes ago. She whispered, so we didn’t recognize her voice. We record everything now. Listen.”
The sound of a tape recorder rewinding, and then an eerie, half-human voice: “She is so precious. We’re going to name her Pearl, because she is our pearl of great price.” The voice stopped and the sound of a kiss came through, and steady breathing. “She’s asleep, the little angel. You’ll never come up with the money. We know. We know everything about you. He’s playing with you. He’s good at that. He likes games.”
Laurel’s voice: “Don’t hurt her. Please. We’re getting the money. We promise. We’ll have it all for you, if you can just give us a little more time.”
A whispery laugh. “That’s exactly what I expected to hear. Bargaining, like Judas bargained for the money to betray his Lord. I hope you writhe in agony every time you think of us with our precious Pearl. It’s exactly what you deserve.”
A door slammed on the tape, far away from the whispering female, and a distant male voice said, “It’s me.” Then tape hiss.
Anya said, “I’ll kill her.”
Giulia didn’t try to sound soothing. “She’s messing with your heads, that’s all, trying to spook you.”
“It worked. That bitch has our baby and we have no idea where or who or how to find her.” Anya’s voice rose at the end of each phrase. “You said you’d help us.”
“I will. We will. How much have you raised?”
“Three hundred thousand and change. We have an appointment at our bank for nine tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t erase that tape. Captain Reilly will want to hear it on Thursday when we meet at your house for the ransom-instruction phone call.”
“He can’t trace the call though, can he? I checked our call history on the phone and then went online to see if I could find any more information. Nothing. The number wasn’t local.”
“It’s most likely a disposable phone,” Giulia said.
“God, I want to dismember these people like my father used to gut deer,” Laurel said in the same stuffed-up voice. “You tell your Captain Reilly that I hope he treats this as though it were one of his own children in the hands of that psychotic bitch.”
“Laurel, we’re on it. I promise. Anya, did you hear that? I promise.”
“I heard you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Don’t keep playing that tape. Just go to bed. Take a sleeping pill if you have to.”
“I bought some today.” Her voice was grudging. “It goes against everything I teach my students.”
“Some situations call for exceptions to the rules.” Giulia took a deep breath. “I’ll call you if we learn something, but don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me till I show up at your house on Thursday morning for the ransom call.”
Anya laughed, a drained sound. “The only surprises I ever want in my life again are when Katie brings home a pet snake or something equally … Shit.”
“I know,” Giulia said. “Get some sleep, please.”
“Better sleep through chemicals. Hooray.”
Three beeps and silence. Giulia pressed the End button. “Games.”
Frank looked at her. “What?”
“Games. She said, ‘He likes games.’ Resorts have people who organize games and activities.”
“Sounds a little obvious.”
“You never know. She also sounds like she was disobeying the mastermind with that phone call, since she hung up when we heard his voice. So she could’ve been so eager to gloat that she let her guard down.”
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll see what the papers from Jimmy have to say. Maybe it’ll be obvious.”
“No objection from me. I wish I was alert enough to analyze things tonight.” A shiver fluttered along her spine. “You’re having a deleterious effect on me. Now I think it’s cold in here.”
“Good. You mentioned something about an afghan?”
Five minutes later the tree was twinkling and Nat King Cole played softly through the speakers. They curled together on the couch under her yellow-and-white seashell afghan.
“Now this is a potentially compromising position,” Giulia said, and yawned. “I can’t even blame it on the booze. All I had was a glass of wine with dinner.”
He kissed the back of her neck. “Thanks for inviting me in.”
“Mmm.” Too tired to open her mouth, she snuggled against Frank as his arm came around her waist.
Nat King Cole sang “The Christmas Song” as she drifted off to sleep.
_____
Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep.
Giulia reached out to hit the alarm’s Off button. Why did I turn down the volume? Her hand slapped the nightstand. The alarm kept beeping. She opened her eyes.
Coffee table. Not nightstand. I’m staring at the coffee table.
A loud snore tickled her ear. She jumped.
Party. Frank. Afghan. Couch.
She sat up. The apartment was freezing.
She clutched the afghan with one hand and shook Frank with the other.
“Frank! Wake up!”
“Mmm?”
She bent closer. “Frank, wake up.”
He felt for the back of her head, pulled her on top of him again, and kissed her. “Morning.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Nice skin.”
She pulled away. “Frank. It’s six thirty. We have to get to work.”
His eyes roamed the room. “Did we sleep all night on the couch?”
“Yes. I have to catch the bus in forty minutes. How fast can you shower?”
“Not that fast. You don’t have any clothes I can wear, anyway. Unless you have a secret lover I’m unaware of.”
She scowled at him. “Hello? Still a virgin at thirty, remember?”
“Someday I hope to change that.” He sat up. “Holy God, it’s freezing. Forget the bus. You’ve got a rental car, remember? I’ll make coffee if you turn up the heat.”
“Your bargaining savvy has won me over. I’m going to turn off that alarm before I heave it through the window.”
She padded to the thermostat. A shiver pattered down her spine. She ran into her bedroom and slapped the clock, cutting off that grating beep-beep-beep-beep in mid-beep.
Frank was right behind her when she turned around.
“Did you hear what I said just now? Damn, woman, you do crazy things to me.” He wrapped his arms around her and
kissed her neck. “This is what months of enforced celibacy will do to a healthy male.”
“Who forced celibacy on you?”
“You did.”
NINETEEN
GIULIA’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. “I—what?”
Frank looked “Wake up” at her. “After we took down the Falkes, remember? They tried to do some sick stuff to you and it freaked you out.”
“I’m not likely to forget getting stripped naked and threatened with rape and murder.”
He put a hand on her arm. “Stop. You know they’re out of the way now. My point is that afterwards, in my car, you agreed that I might have a chance with you.”
She pictured that June evening, staring at Frank’s dashboard, trying to remember who she’d been before the psychotic Falkes had played their games with her and DI’s client. And then Frank’s odd, unexpected declaration that nothing the Falkes tried to do to her meant anything to him. And shouldn’t mean anything to her.
Her voice softened. “I remember.”
“So you’re the reason I’ve been celibate. Not that I ever tomcatted around; don’t worry. I’ve only slept with three women, and none of them were tomcatters either.” He paused. “I don’t think that word is appropriate for women.”
“Promiscuous is a better choice.” She turned around in his embrace, facing him. “Why are you telling me your sexual history?”
“Full disclosure. You’re not shocked?”
She sighed. “I taught high-school sex ed. Not much shocks me. Did you forget that I read Cosmo? It leaves little to the imagination.”
“I may revise my opinion of that magazine again.” He stopped talking to the ceiling and looked right at her. “I don’t date more than one woman at a time. When I said I wanted to pursue you, that meant you, exclusively.” He looked over her shoulder. “It’s twenty to seven. Tell me where the coffee is and I’ll make some while you shower.”
_____
After Frank left, Giulia drove the four blocks from her apartment to Saint Thomas church. In a car. A clean, dry, warm car. That didn’t smell like armpits.
“That’s it. I’m buying that used car the Monday after Christmas. This is Heaven on earth. I am not giving this up.”
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