by Fiona Grace
But she found a very different sort of creature outside her door.
It was Mason, standing at the front stoop with what looked like a red Tupperware container.
Before she could get all excited that he was waiting for her, with something that looked very much like a peace offering, a high-pitched laugh erupted from across the narrow street.
As she came closer, Mason said something, but it wasn’t directed at her. More giggles.
Nessa. He was talking to… no, flirting with Nessa.
Drawing closer, she heard Nessa say, in a high airy voice the woman never used when speaking to Audrey, “So it’s a plan? You’ll really spice up my episode two!”
“Sure, I’m there,” Mason replied coolly, as his eyes wandered to and landed on Audrey. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied tersely, moving past him toward the door. She opened it quickly, scanning around the doorstep, and sighed, annoyed.
She slipped inside and went to close the door on him, but he put a hand out before she could. The heavy door bounced off his forearm. “Ow. Frick! You trying to kill me? I brought you a hot brown.”
Audrey winced. She hadn’t meant to close it that hard. “A what?”
He held it up, still shaking his other arm. “A hot brown. Recipe from back home. I made it for dinner but I wasn’t all that hungry.”
“That’s nice, but …” She went out to the front stoop and looked around. Thankfully, Nessa had gone back inside. But Nick was nowhere to be found. Her shoulders slumped. He’d probably find his way home, but she didn’t want him getting into any trouble.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing. Just that you probably scared Nick away. He usually meets me at the clinic or is waiting for me when I get home. And with you there, he probably…” She finally looked at him. “How long were you waiting out here?”
“Ah, just about …” He checked his phone. “An hour?”
Her eyes widened. “An hour?”
“Hot brown’s cold. Sorry.”
Her heart softened to him at once, as if he was one of her pathetic strays. “No, that’s okay!” She took it from his hands. “That’s so nice. I’m actually starving.”
“Yeah. I figured you were gonna put in a long day, especially without help,” he said, with a guilty shrug.
As she was about to close the door, Nick squeezed through. She smiled as he jumped into her arms, and nuzzled his soft fur. “Yeah. It was pretty long. I’m exhausted.”
Mason watched with a bit of disgust on his face, but offered no comment. He pointed to the door. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just came to—”
Why did Mason leaving feel like the end of the world? “No! Stay. I just got this wine as a gift. Want some?” she asked a little desperately.
He shrugged. “Never could turn down good wine. From an admirer?”
She let out one of her nervous giggles, but cut it short. The last thing she needed was to deteriorate into a crushing teenager around him, especially after she’d made such strides away from her old self.
But it was nice to know he thought she had admirers. And did she detect a little jealousy? No need for that, Mason, dear. You don’t know who you’re talking to.
“From Orlando Falco,” she said, heading into the kitchen, where she brought down two stemless wine glasses and opened drawers, looking for the corkscrew. “He also brought the news that the council’s voting on that stray tax, and there’s a good chance it’s going to go through. I think he was hoping to soften the blow for me.”
“You’re kidding,” he said, sliding down into a chair at her bistro table. “Even with the old bag dead?”
“Yep. Seems like she had a bunch of friends who want to honor her name by carrying out her last wishes or something,” Audrey said, handing him his glass of wine. She took a big gulp of hers and sat down in front of the food container. She peeled off the top and sniffed. “Mmmm. This smells good.”
“You could heat it up in the—”
He stopped when she took it in her hands, opened her mouth wide, and took a massive bite. Chewing, her eyes widened. “Mmmm. Dish ish goo.”
“I know. Old family recipe. Had to make some substitutions but it gave it a Sicilian flavor.”
She finished chewing and licked the grease off her fingers. “Amazing. Who knew you could cook?”
“One of my many talents.” He sipped the wine. “You look like hell, you know.”
Audrey smoothed down her hair. Great. Just the kind of compliment she was looking for.
“Well, I’ve been a little busy, if my eating dinner at ten o’clock at night hasn’t tipped you off,” she said, doing her best to disguise her hurt as she took a tomato out of the sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth. Maybe it was that she hadn’t had anything since the early morning granola bar, but this was quite possibly the best sandwich she’d ever had, cold or not. She scanned the bleak kitchen. She’d had all these plans to make it nice and homey, and other than the homey gingham curtains, she hadn’t done much at all. There was a power sander, sitting in the middle of the floor. “And the house looks like crap.”
“It’ll get there.”
“I guess. Eventually.”
“Hey. Why not right now?” He pointed to the sander and slipped to his knees. Nick scampered around him, thinking he wanted to play, but Mason politely nudged him off, surveying the floor. “You need to even this out?”
“What are you doing?” she cried in alarm. “I mean, I thought I should even it before I put the tile down. I didn’t do it in the bathroom and it’s kind of lumpy. But not at ten at night.”
“Eh. In Charleston, it’s early,” he said, grabbing the sander and getting to work.
She set some apples out for Nick and watched him, trying not to feel like a voyeur, but the way his back muscles strained underneath his T-shirt and his biceps bulged, it was hard to tear her eyes away. He did about a quarter of the floor while she polished off her dinner.
He turned off the sander and checked his phone. “I’ve got to go. But if you want to leave a spare key for me, I can come in and finish later.”
She stared at him. He said it almost as if he had somewhere to be, which made her suspicious. Where was he going at night? “Thanks, but—”
“And if you don’t think I’m fouling things up too much at the clinic, I’m happy to come in and help there.”
“But… I thought you hated those animals.”
“They’re not that bad. And I’m bored. I was going to keep working on my house but then I got notice that my plans are still under review, even with that Catalano woman gone. So I’ve got nothing to do. And I’m …” He stopped, as if there was something he wasn’t sure he should say. “Truth is, I don’t start things I don’t mean to finish. And I shouldn’t have walked out on you.” He looked uncharacteristically sheepish and unsure of himself, darting his eyes away from hers.
She smiled. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have suspected you. I know you’re not a murderer. So feel free to stop buttering me up by doing all these nice things for me.”
He went to the door. “You find out who that big creature belongs to?”
“Nope. The police don’t think he has anything to do with the murder. They say there are strays all over. But I get the feeling the police don’t have much else to go on. They were on the beach earlier today, trying to find more clues.” She yawned, simply thinking of that long, tiring walk back up to town.
“Well. I’ll see you, Boston. Try not to worry too much about everything,” he said, waving before slipping out the door.
Try not to worry? With everything I have to worry about, she thought, looking around the ruins of her hardly begun reno, I’m going to be up all night.
*
Audrey was wrong.
She fell asleep nearly the second she settled into bed, and though in the back of her mind, she knew she was dreaming, she was too tired to wake herself.
Why els
e would her father be there, walking through the empty house with her, shaking his head at all the mess? “What have you been up to, Audrey?” he said. “I thought you’d have been much further along than this.”
“I’m trying,” she said. “I’m busy.”
But suddenly, the walls of her Sicilian home fell away, and she was standing in the grand, magnificent two-story foyer of an old, stately mansion overlooking the Back Bay in Boston. Her father’s last renovation attempt. She was thirteen, and up to that point, she’d been her father’s right hand. All the other girls at school, Brina included, no longer liked hanging out with their parents, but Audrey didn’t care. She still followed him around, stopping by whatever house he was renovating on the way home from school, wanting to make herself useful.
Now, she stood in that massive home, surrounded by unpainted drywall and unfinished wainscotting, the distinct scent of sawdust and paint heavy in her nostrils. The house was dark. “Dad?” she asked, looking around for any sign of him. He usually left his favorite toolbox someplace in the homes he renovated. Last she’d seen it, the night before, it’d been on the kitchen island.
But now it was gone.
The night before, he’d seemed strange. Off. He hadn’t been angry, just sad, maybe. He’d taken her out for ice cream, just the two of them, even though it was a school night. He hadn’t spoken much. The only thing she remembered was him telling her to do well in school, get good grades, and maybe one day, she could be a vet, like she always wanted.
“Dad?” she called again, her voice echoing across the dark expanse of the unfinished house. “Dad?”
She went from room to room, opening and passing through door after door, each one getting smaller and smaller, until she found herself trapped. So trapped, she couldn’t even breathe …
Audrey sat bolt upright in bed and looked around, breathing hard. It took her a moment to recognize the walls of her Sicilian home and remember she was no longer in Boston.
That house. It’d been almost twenty years since she’d been in there, and though it was likely a gorgeous showpiece of Boston’s Back Bay now, it still made her shudder, as if it was some haunted house. She’d gone through every room in that house, looking for her father, fearing the worst. By the end, sobbing, she’d gone home.
That was when her mother told her that her father had moved out. Gone across country, or something. Left them.
No note. No goodbye. No nothing.
She’d always been Daddy’s girl. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe her mother; she simply thought she knew her father better. At least, she knew that he would never simply abandon her. So seeking confirmation, she’d gone to their bedroom and opened the closet. His side had been cleared out—flannel shirts, jeans, sneakers and work boots, even the suit he’d worn to her middle school graduation. Everything gone.
Except, she’d drawn him a picture, a long time ago. Probably when she was in kindergarten, or maybe slightly afterward. The two of them, just stick figures, really, in front of one of his amazing houses, hammers and screwdrivers in hand. It’d stared back at her from the inside of the closet door. He hadn’t taken that.
Settling into bed, she gathered Nick to her chest and stroked his fur, thinking she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, after that.
Again, thankfully, she was wrong.
But this time, she dreamed of Mimi’s body, lying in the sand, and the mysterious tall man in a hat, who was still at large… and quite possibly, a murderer.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Audrey was pretty sure that hot brown would’ve made a nice home for itself in her stomach, and she wouldn’t be hungry the following day. But she wasn’t just hungry that morning when she woke up. She was ravenous.
Maybe it had been that amazing sandwich, making her stomach go, “More please!” but she thought of Mason the whole way over to La Mela Verde. Of course, he could cook. Was there anything he didn’t do well?
And the way he’d gotten down to business, sanding her floor? Not only that, but she kept thinking of what he’d said to her, in her kitchen, with that sheepish look between his dimples. I don’t start anything I don’t mean to finish.
If there was one quality Audrey valued above all others, it was that. Probably because of her dad. After last night, she no longer believed Mason was a killer. In fact… quite the opposite. She had to admit, she was feeling… feelings for him. Ones she didn’t really like.
Stop it, Audrey. Like you need to complicate your life any more by adding another unrequited love to the mix?
She went inside the café and slipped onto her favorite stool. Glancing up, she noticed G wasn’t behind the counter. A young, teenaged girl with a nose ring looked at her. “Cappuccino?” Audrey said.
Then she pulled out her phone, looking for any information from Orlando Falco as to how the vote had gone. It was still too early. The meeting likely wasn’t until this afternoon. So she texted Brina: Help. I need you to talk me down from the ledge.
A moment later, Brina came back with: Oh, look. The prodigal sister.
Audrey rolled her eyes. What had it been, two days since she’d last texted her? Sorry. Been busy. But really. I’m at a crossroads. M came by last night. Brought me dinner.
Seconds later: !!!!! DETAILS.
She sighed, thinking of it. She’d given him wine, they’d shared a few flirts, and then… he’d run off like a bat out of hell. Typical day in Audrey’s romantic life. Brina probably would’ve had him professing his undying love by now.
She typed in: We just talked. He helped me sand my floors.
Even Audrey had to wince at how lame that sounded.
I’m almost ashamed to be related to you, girl. So… while he was sanding your floors, did you snap any pics?
Of course Brina would be concerned about that. Brina would probably have a catalogue of all his body parts by now. No.
Her sister sent over a rolling-eyes emoticon. So what’s the problem?
Audrey’s fingers flew over the keyboard, then hovered over the send button. She read the words again and again, hardly able to believe she was going to admit this. I think I have a crush on abs.
Brina sent the emoticon of clapping hands. Of course you do. But at least you’re finally admitting it now.
She looked up to find the waitress staring at her, expectant, coffee pot in hand. Audrey dragged the tiny cup closer and inhaled the scent of strong brew. “Oh. Um. Brioche? Um …” That was really the only thing she knew that Sicilians ate for breakfast. She grabbed the menu and pointed to something that sounded nice.
The girl came back with a tiny plate, covered in a doily. On it, what looked like a sugar donut.
Audrey took a bite, then gobbled the rest of it down in a flash. Did G make that? Wow. Why was it that all the men she knew in Sicily were not only good-looking, but good cooks, as well? She pointed to her plate, mouth still full. “Another?”
The girl set another one down on her plate.
“Grazie.”
“That’s one thing I’m going to miss. The ciambella,” a voice with a Brooklyn accent said behind her. She spun on her stool to see the American expat she’d met a week or so ago. He patted his hefty stomach. “But my stomach will probably be better off without it.”
“Hi …” she said, trying to recall his name. “Bruno?”
He nodded. “That’s right. Good to see you again.”
He was wearing a black leather jacket, his New York Giants cap turned backward, and jeans. His duffel was on the ground next to him. “You’re going back to the States, huh?”
“Yep. Plane leaves in a couple hours. Just waiting on my ride.”
She grabbed a napkin and wiped the sugar from her chin. “And how did the house hunting go? When do you think you’re coming back?”
His lips twisted, and he hitched both shoulders. “I got to say, never. Unfortunately. I’m actually cutting the trip short, it went so bad. Guess the dollar house dream was just that—a dream.”
> “What? What happened? You seemed so excited about the possibility before. Didn’t you find any good properties?”
“No, I found plenty. And my girl, she was really hyped on coming out here and being with me.” He glanced around, as if he was afraid someone else might be listening. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I don’t think this place is very welcoming.”
Audrey’s eyes widened.
He chuckled sadly. “Yeah. I know. Me, coming from New York, not thinking the place is very welcoming. But it’s true. These locals can give New Yorkers a bad name. How do you put up with it?”
“Well, I… I haven’t really noticed it, except—”
“I guess even if you did, you’re SOL, having bought the place sight unseen, huh?” He motioned to the waitress with his credit card and bill. She came over to take it.
“Well, no. Actually, people haven’t been that bad. Most have been very nice. At least, so far. What have you been noticing? The locals have been mean to you?”
“Not all the locals. One in particular. Some councilwoman. My Realtor came by one day and told me she was giving all this trouble to anyone outside of the country.”
“You mean Mimi Catalano?”
He nodded. “That’s her. She might’ve died, but her ghost is still haunting this place. She has a lot of supporters. They’re the ones trying to run us locals out of town. I can’t believe you haven’t felt the pressure.”
“Oh, I have,” Audrey mumbled, thinking of the council meeting that would decide her fate in this town. It was sad that Bruno’s fate had already been decided. It seemed premature. “Sure, some locals might be bullies, but as more and more expats move in, it’ll be more friendly to people like us. Especially when they see how necessary we are to their economy. Are you sure you won’t stay? At least, try?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. But if things continue this way, and the council keeps giving us expats a nudge out the door, the one-dollar house program’s going to fail. That’s all there is to it.”