Murder Under the Italian Moon

Author:Maria Grazia Swan [Swan, Maria Grazia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2014-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

All the peanut butter and toast in the world couldn't fill the emptiness at the pit of my stomach. I went upstairs to ease the tension and to stop listening for Larry's footsteps.

I sat on my custom-made bed in my girly bedroom with a view of the ocean and asked myself, "Is this it? Is this the preview of things to come? Will I be spending the rest of my life waiting on a man? I am not going to fall into that trap again, never."

What I felt for Larry was so different from what I had with Nick. Not because I was married to Nick. Our relationship had always been more stable, and even in times of conflict we could find common ground with neither of us ending up emotionally bloody. Plus, over the years I learned to let things go, look the other way; it made life easier.

Larry, with his unreadable eyes. Larry, with the laissez faire of a Swiss guard. Larry, who lit the bonfire of passion when I had resigned myself to a life of celibacy.

Was this fiery turmoil an age thing? How would I know? Underneath the battered ego, I wanted him so bad I would run to him if he called out to me.

The phone rang and hope crashed the gate of my self-control. "Yes?" I sounded hoarse, even to myself.

"Lella? Are you okay?" Sabrina, from the mission.

"Yes, sure." I cleared my throat. "I'm fine, and I didn't forget about the meeting."

"About the meeting." It was Sabrina's turn to clear her throat. "We were thinking, you know, with your son and all that's going on…" She paused, and I didn't like where she was going.

"We? Care to tell me who we is?" That didn't sound grammatically correct, but grammar wasn't high on my list.

"The committee. It's because of all that publicity about Kyle. If you're at the mission, the media will be after you instead of the swallows."

"The invisible swallows?" Why did I say that? A good docent never mentions the fact that the swallows stopped coming back to the mission years ago. "Never mind, I get it. I'm persona non grata. Thanks a lot. I've been a volunteer for nearly ten years, and this is the thanks I get. Have a good Fiesta de Las Golondrinas." I hung up. Misplaced anger? Maybe.

I felt sick. Mad as hell and sick. Never mind that given a chance to visit Kyle over the meeting, I would have canceled the meeting without a bit of guilt. That was not the point. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would help. I turned off the faucet and heard what seemed to be a pounding sound. I stood still and listened. Maybe it was someone working outside. No, I heard it again, louder. It came from downstairs. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed my phone; I figured I could always call 911.

Call 911? Crazy, I was losing my mind. Halfway down the stairs I heard the thumping and this time I had no doubt; someone was pounding on my front door.

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