Page 99 of What Doesn't Kill Her
NAPOLEONE (LEO) DI LUCA:
MALE, ELDERLY, 5'10", 190 LBS, A LITTLE MORE STOOPED THAN THE LAST TIME SHE HAD SEEN HIM. SHOULDER-LENGTH GRAY HAIR, GANDALF EYEBROWS. RESORT OWNER. AMERICAN-ITALIAN WHOM MAX STRONGLY RESEMBLED. GOOD MAN/GOOD EMPLOYER/GOOD HUSBAND TO ANNIE.
“Kellen!” Leo embraced her, looked into her face, embraced her again. “You’ve come back to us.”
“Just for a day.”
“We were delighted when Max texted to let us know you were coming.”
Kellen looked sideways at Max. He must have done that while she was asleep.
Leo continued, “We have the room we save for honored guests. Up in the tower. Kellen, you know the one. I suppose you want to get cleaned up and change, then Annie and I would love you to be our guests for dinner in our suite. She’s having her lie-down now, but she is champing at the bit to see you. Where are your bags?”
“We might need to do a little shopping at the boutique,” Kellen told him. “We’re back from the mountains and looking a little rustic.”
Leo chuckled. “It’s Washington state, dear. No one minds rustic.”
“Cleanliness is an issue, too, Uncle,” Max said.
“Ha! Yes! Go find something comfortable to wear and—” he looked searchingly at Kellen “—can you be ready in two hours?”
“I’m hungry. I can be ready faster than that.” She had never meant anything so much in her life.
“Excellent. Sheriff Kwinault is on her way with Dr. Frownfelter. We’ll have appetizers waiting for you. Annie and I cannot wait to hear this whole tantalizing story.”
42
Max and Kellen hurried through their showers and dressed in their new casual resort wear that made them look, so Max said, like tennis-wear ads from the 1980s. He struck a pose with an invisible racket.
Kellen shoved at him, draped her sweater around her neck and told him to hurry and shave before the appetizers were all gone.
He chased her toward the window and scraped his stubbled chin across her cheek and went in to shave.
Seconds later, he was back, and she started to chide him for not shaving...then he leaned down and slid his face across hers. “Better?”
“Smooth as a baby’s bottom,” she assured him.
So hehadshaved. But he couldn’t have done it in the amount of time she thought he’d been gone.
Where had she been? Caught by the gray? Unconscious on her feet?
She mustn’t let Max know. He didn’t need to worry more than he was. Not about something he could do nothing about.
He offered his arm. “Still hungry?”
“Of course!” She wasn’t. Not now.
“Are you sure? You look a little pale.”
“Show me the crab cakes.” She smiled at him and took his arm.
He led the way, but she knew he was back to feeling solicitous.
They arrived at Leo and Annie’s suite, a spacious, homey collection of rooms on the third floor not far from Annie’s office. Annie’s thin face lit up, and she held up her arms. “Hug me, darlings!”
ANNIE DI LUCA:
FEMALE, WHITE, ELDERLY, HEIGHT UNDETERMINED. UNDERWEIGHT. CURLY WHITE HAIR, BROWN EYES. WHEELCHAIR USER. RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS. SEASONED RESORT MANAGER. KIND, INTELLIGENT, FRAIL, DEDICATED TO LEO AND YEARNING SANDS.
