Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“That’s very kind of you.” I brush a wisp of hair from her forehead. “I’m sure she’d like that very much.”
A chorus of, “Good night, Sabella,” follows as the younger boys run for the door.
“Remember what I said,” Angelo calls after them, his tone strict. “No running in the house.”
They slow down to a walk, stealing glances at him from over their shoulders. The minute they’re out of sight, their small feet beat the floor as they break into a run again.
Angelo chuckles. “Now I understand why my mother used to ask us if our ears were vases when we were young.”
I smile. “She did?”
He grins. “She once plucked the stalk off a zinnia and stuck the flower in my ear. She told me if I didn’t use my ears for listening, we might as well use them for vases.”
I almost laugh but remember in time that it hurts. “How are you coping?”
“With the kids?” His eyes sparkle with humor. “I suppose not too badly.” A frown pleats his brow as amusement makes place for concern. He glances at the door, and then goes over and closes it before walking back to the bed. “Sophie has been asking a lot of questions about her place in the family. She seems to be going through a phase where she needs to understand where she fits in.”
“It’s normal. She’s been through a lot of changes recently. She moved in with you, and her great-grandfather died.”
“There’s another subject I need to bring up with them, but I’m not sure how to approach it.”
“Regarding what?”
“Their parents.” He lowers his voice. “They’re dead.”
My heart squeezes. “Those poor kids. Too much has already happened in their short lives. How did you eventually find out?”
“Sophie showed me a cave where the old man kept a crate full of jewelry. I found their bodies there.”
“What?” I stare at him. “How did they die?”
“The old man shot them. One of my contacts in the forensics department matched the bullet shells to the shotgun I gave him. I didn’t want to say anything before I knew where the investigation was going, but the police closed the case yesterday.”
“Oh my God. What are you going to tell them?”
“I wanted to talk to you first. Obviously, they need to know their parents are dead. I gave the old man a funeral for their sake. It makes sense to do the same for their parents.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “But what do I tell them about the cause of their death?”
I contemplate the question. “Will it do any good to tell them the truth?”
He drops his hand and blows out a sigh. “It sure as hell won’t change anything. I’m afraid being honest will do more harm than good.”
“Then just tell them the truth that you can. Simply say that you were looking for them, and that you found out they passed away. I agree that saddling them with the brutality of a murder at their tender age seems unnecessarily cruel, especially if their own great-grandfather is the culprit.”
He nods. “That’s what I thought, but I still wanted to talk it through with you.”
“Would you like me to be there when you tell them?”
“I’d appreciate that. They can do with the support. Especially Sophie.” Pinning me with a stare, he says, “We still need to talk about your trips to the village. Don’t think I forgot.”
My stomach contracts at the dark note in his voice. “You know why I did it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he commands, “Tell me.”
“Why? What does it matter now?”
“Humor me, Sabella.”
I blow out a sigh. “It started when I needed a shampoo for lice.”
“That never should’ve happened.” The line of his jaw turns hard. “My cousin was supposed to have the house cleaned.”
“It happened. It’s over. We need to move on. Why insist on—”
“Let me finish. I know why you did odd jobs in the village. You wanted to earn money to buy a pregnancy test. You wanted to buy birth control pills. Am I right?”
“Yes,” I admit with a whisper. “Who told you?”
“Roch.” Outwardly, he appears calm, but tension emanates from him. “What kind of jobs did you do?”
I flick out my tongue to wet my dry lips. “Is this really necessary?”
“What jobs did you do, Sabella? It’s a small town. You have firsthand experience of how quickly news travels. I’m going to hear it whether I want to or not, but I prefer to hear it from you.”
I swallow. “Are you angry?”
His voice softens. “Only with myself.”
“What’s the point of knowing?”
“I need to know because it concerns you, and everything that concerns you is my business.”
Heaving another sigh, I say, “I walked Mrs. Paoli’s dog, and I cleaned Mr. Martin’s house. I also did a few grocery runs for Mrs. Filippi.”
“Dog walker, housemaid, and delivery woman,” he muses, not seeming pleased.