“Oh, right. No, not yet.” But I would follow up with Mary tonight. “It’s been so busy.”
How lame. I didn’t miss the twitch of his lips. Here I was, lolling about on a chaise, sipping water with lemon floating in it. Not a bad life.
“I will check my inbox. Maybe I’ll have a message from Mary.” A quick flick of my eyes ensured me that my ankles were crossed. Fibbing wasn’t my thing. And yet I seemed to be doing a lot of it lately. Another sip of my water and I settled back onto the cushions. A woman could get used to this. Marco’s voice provided a backdrop while I closed my eyes, brain turning to mush.
“…so you would help me, yes?”
“Yes. I will check my emails tonight.” Mary Carmichael. Got it.
Looking up, I caught him staring at me, his face empty. “Gabriella is not emailing you. Is she?” He looked horrified. “Are the two of you friends now?”
What was he talking about? Gabriella and me as friends? Was he crazy? The girl who had probably never worked a day in her life and me who faced an uncertain retirement? What an unlikely friendship.
I’d lost track of the conversation. Why couldn’t I think straight around him?
“No, of course we’re not friends. I only met her that one time at lunch. I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I waved a hand vaguely–– the way I’d seen him do himself when he’d lost his train of thought.
He gave an abrupt sigh, the way he did with Gregorio. “I was asking you if you would help me. You know, look over the women who come to the party. The single women, of course,” he hastened to add.
“Yes, of course. For what?” Was he afraid they might steal from him? Take some of the scented soaps liberally supplied in the first floor powder rooms?
“You must look for the right qualities that I might miss.”
Oh, I should have been flattered. But I needed to know more. “What qualities are you looking for?”
Wearing an inscrutable smile, he leaned back on the aqua and blue cushions and closed his eyes. Now it was my turn to study him again, undetected. “I think I would like someone who is…fun.”
Now that was a surprise. “Do you mean someone who could ride with you?”
“Is that important?” He opened one eye, which made it seem he was winking.
What were we saying? Oh yes, common interests. “Yes, I would think so. After all, you want to spend time together. That’s what a good relationship is all about. And you like to ride.”
Back to fingering his chin. “Yes, probably so.”
And this was news to him? Was he thinking of marrying some hapless woman, only to leave her wandering around in this huge castle? Or tucked away in the tower? A chill settled over me. I shivered.
“You are cold?” Reaching behind himself, he grabbed his towel.
“No. Of course not. It’s hot out here.”
“Well good.” He tucked the towel under his chair. “So we would ride. Together.” He looked very serious and totally joyless at the idea.
“You could show her your…vines.”
This got some traction with him. A quick nod. “Yes, she will appreciate my grapes. Perhaps she will help me with the St. Michael’s Day party.”
“Perhaps. What is that?” Marco didn’t strike me as a religious man but what did I really know about him?
Eyebrows lifting, he glanced over with horror, as if I’d just questioned the existence of Santa Claus. “St. Michael’s Day is when we harvest the grapes. Very important day.”
I’d never heard of it before. “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t have that in the States. Not that I know of.”
“Such a disgrace. I had no idea.” He shook his head in disgust. America had dropped in his estimation. “Now, back to this party business.” Marco would not be distracted.
Oh, so the party was about business? Jay Gatsby might have agreed.
“So, this woman, this one right woman.” He held up one finger.
