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“Maybe he’ll show up for lunch by the pool,” Sandy said after my umpteenth scan of the area.
“Who?”
“Don’t give me that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’re transparent as Saran Wrap. Let’s stake out the restaurant so you can at least get his number.”
We abandoned our beach chairs to stroll by the restaurant. Last night I’d agreed to dessert another night before remembering I didn’thaveanother night. It seemed fitting that after visually stalking him for several days, I’d lose the chance to meet him because I hadn’t gotten up the courage earlier. Now he’d be relegated to a memory of what might have been, if only I’d been bolder.
Eventually the time came, and without a Studious sighting, we headed off to the airport.
* * *
“What’dshe get arrested for this time?” Sandy asked as we waited our turn at the gate to board the plane.
“No idea. We got cut off before I found out.”
“I say leave her in jail for a while. It’ll do her good.” Sandy knew better than to suggest getting my aunt and uncle involved.
I understood her perspective, and thiswasgetting old. “Well, she’s there until I get back, I guess, but I can’t abandon her. She’s my cousin, and I’m responsible. You want me to let her end up like the Kings’ son?”
The Kings from down the street had left their son, Jeremy, in jail a week, awaiting bail, as punishment for his DUI, and he’d ended up beaten and raped. He’d come home with a broken arm, three missing teeth, and terrible psychological scars. His parents now had to live with the knowledge that they could have prevented it.
The women’s jail was probably safer, but I wasn’t willing to take a chance. I’d get Lara out as soon as I got back.
“I guess not,” Sandy admitted. “But she needs to learn a lesson sooner or later. How many times have you bailed her out now? Three?”
I didn’t answer. This would be the fifth.
“She needs some tough love.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I shot back.
What Lara had needed was parental guidance before she’d gotten herself as screwed up as she had.
Our disagreement was cut short when they called our group to board.
It fell out as I retrieved the boarding pass from my purse: that damned envelope with the red and white Swiss flag in the return address corner. I folded it and put it back in my purse, but not before Sandy noticed it.
“Are you still considering your uncle’s offer?” she asked as she hefted the backpack she called a purse.
“No, not really. He keeps bugging me to sell him the house, but it’s more than just the memories. It’s my family’s legacy and not for sale, not ever.”
I’d grown up in Casa di Rossi, the house my grandpa built, and Daddy had always expected me to pass it down to my kids—not let it be torn down for a bunch of condos.
Sandy led the way to get in line. “If that was true, you would have thrown out the letter already.”
As always, Sandy called me on my bullshit.
I followed her. “It’s just in case.”
My emotional brain had forced me to tell Uncle Ernst I wouldn’t sell him Casa di Rossi, but my pragmatic brain had insisted on an insurance policy, and I hadn’t tossed the letter.
Sandy turned back to me. “When ‘just in case’ comes around, don’t forget to double the price to the asshole.”
Sandy had never liked my step-uncle, and I guess I didn’t like him enough to ask her to stop calling him an asshole either.
