“Ciao, Mrs. Albertini.”
The woman stared at him with a puzzled expression for a moment before breaking out in a bright smile.
“Henry! Oh my, look how tall you are. And I barely recognized you with that beard. Come in, boy. Come in.”
Henry took a step forward and the dog barked at him. Mrs. Albertini shooed the dog away.
“Don’t mind Soffice. She always barks at people she hasn’t met before.”
Soffice was Italian for fluffy. Henry thought the dog was named well, given all the fluffy white fur she had.
The home was spacious. The entryway was illuminated by daylight coming in from a large window above the door Henry had walked through. As they strolled through the home, Henry looked for Makayla.
Mrs. Albertini escorted him into the kitchen and introduced Henry to her maid, Rosemary. When she mentioned that Henry was an old boyfriend of Makayla, Henry noticed that Rosemary’s mood changed, and her smile of greeting dimmed.
It wasn’t until Henry spoke to the maid in Italian that Mrs. Albertini realized she’d been speaking to Henry in her native language as well. When she’d known him as a boy of fifteen, Henry only spoke English.
“When did you learn to speak Italian, Henry?”
“It’s been a few years now. Before that, Makayla taught me some phrases.”
The maid placed two cups on the kitchen table along with a carafe of coffee and cream. There was already sugar in a decorative bowl. After asking if they needed anything else, Rosemary excused herself.
Henry sipped on a cup of coffee and answered Mrs. Albertini’s questions. The woman was talking fast, as if she were anxious about something.
“How have you been? And how is your grandmother?”
“We’re both good, Mrs. Albertini.”
“I think Makayla mentioned that you moved to Texas some time ago. Do you like it there?”
“I do, and so does my grandmother.”
“Are you in school? What are you studying?”
“Mrs. Albertini, is Makayla around?”
“Why are you here, Henry?”
Henry squinted at her. Wasn’t it obvious why he would have traveled so far? “I came to see Makayla. Is she here?”
“That’s why you came? The only reason?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Albertini gave a nervous laugh. “I figured you weren’t here to see me,” Mrs. Albertini said, before releasing a sigh. There was sadness in the sigh.
“Mrs. Albertini… is Makayla all right?”
Mrs. Albertini gazed down into her coffee cup, then gave Henry the news.
“She’s married?” Tanner said.
“Not only that, but Makayla is on her honeymoon right now, in Tahiti. Do I have lousy timing or what?”
They were seated at a table in the hotel bar. Henry had stopped in when he returned and asked Tanner if he’d like a drink. Tanner could tell by his voice over the phone that things hadn’t gone well. It seemed like that assessment was an understatement.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I know you were hoping to reconnect with her.”
“I didn’t expect her to be sitting here waiting for me to show up, and assumed that she might have a boyfriend, but I never imagined she’d be married.”
Tanner said nothing. He wasn’t going to predict that Henry would find someone else someday or utter a trite phrase like, “Maybe it’s all for the best.” He’d been a young man in love and had it all fall apart. It hurt like hell—deep emotional pain—and Henry was feeling it now too. Time would help, and yes, he might fall in love again, but he would never fall in love again for the first time, and there would never be another Makayla for him.
Henry downed the last of his beer, looked as if he were about to raise his hand to ask for another one, then decided not to.
“When I came in here, I thought I’d get drunk. But I really don’t feel that bad. Sorry for myself, yeah, but not drink till you’re drunk bad.”
“Why not?”
“Makayla’s married. That’s a good thing. It means she’s happy. How can I feel bad about that? I love her. If she’s happy, then I’m happy for her.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen, you know that.”
“Nineteen in years maybe, but not in your level of maturity. Are you hungry? I’ll buy you dinner.”
“I think I’d just like to go up to my room and crash. I feel wasted for some reason.”
“All right, and remember, our flight home doesn’t leave until eight p.m. tomorrow. That gives you time to explore the city if you want.”
“I may go for a walk before we leave. I like walking in cities.”
Henry rose from his seat and told Tanner he’d see him in the morning. After taking a step, he asked a question.
“Marcello is dead. So who got the reward for leading us to Soulless?”
“Jacques decided to give it to that woman on the island who called the tip hotline, Mya Baros.”
“That’s a good choice,” Henry said, and headed out of the bar.
Tanner left soon after he did, having decided to order room service. After eating, he lay on the bed and called Sara. He was looking forward to being back with his family.
30
A Home For A Princess
Tanner flew into Texas, but it was Cody Parker who arrived home in Stark. He’d done some shopping while in Milan and brought home gifts. Sara and Franny received fancy silk scarves, Lucas a model car, and even Lucky the dog was gifted a new chew toy.
Little Marian stood beside the chair her father was seated in and looked inside the bag the gifts had come in. The bag was empty.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Didn’t you get me a gift?”
Cody made a show of checking the bag, then picked it up and turned it over. “Hmm, it looks like the bag is empty.”
Marian’s lower lip began to tremble. “You forgot me?”
Cody picked her up, placed her on his lap, and kissed her on the cheek.
“What did you ask me to bring you?”
Marian’s mood brightened as hope blossomed. “A house.”
“What kind of house?”
“A big house.”
“Do you think I could fit a big house inside that bag?”
Marian grinned as she shook her head wildly. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
Marian crossed her arms over her chest. “My house.”
Cody stood while holding her. “Let’s go outside.”
Everyone went to the rear of the house. To call it a yard would be understating the area’s size. There were acres of grass, beyond which was a fenced-off field where cattle grazed. Marian’s eyes darted around. When she spotted the pink structure near the steps of the porch, she wriggled in her father’s arms until he put her down.
Marian’s house was a converted chicken coop. Cody had asked Doc to make him one. After Marian said that she wanted a house, Cody asked Doc to make a few changes to the design. Doc had done a fine job of making it look like a small house. There was even a working window and a door with a house number on it.
Sara had stuck a child-sized table and chairs set in there, along with a small sofa she’d bought online. The sofa had the face of Marian’s favorite cartoon character on it. The little girl giggled while running over to the house, then stood with her mouth agape as she took it in.
“It’s big.”
“Do you like it?”
Marian ran back to her father and hugged him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank Mommy too; she furnished it.”
Marian kissed her mother on the lips as Sara bent over to hug. When she returned to the little house, she opened the door and said, “Ooohh,” as she took in the small furniture.
Cody nudged Lucas with an elbow. “Do you want a house too?”
“No thanks. I like to hang out in the stables with the horses.”
“So did I when I was
your age,” Cody said. “I still do sometimes.”
Marian stayed inside her house until it was time for dinner, then returned to it afterwards, where she fell asleep on the colorful sofa while playing with her dolls. Cody reached in and lifted her up. It was her bedtime and Sara was waiting to give her a bath.
Marian’s eyes fluttered open. “Daddy.”
“Yes, baby?”
Marian pecked him on the lips, then lay her head back onto his shoulder. And in the eyes of the greatest assassin on the planet, there could be found tears of joy.
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SOULLESS
Copyright © REMINGTON KANE, 2021
YEAR ZERO PUBLISHING, LLC
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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