shoulders apologetically. “The island belongs to my family. Tano’s drummed up a few of his friends for the expedition, but you can believe me when I tell you they’re definitely not my friends.”
“You’re asking me if I’ll go with you and your, forgive me, only barely tolerable cousin—”
“Second cousin.”
“—and a gang of definitely-not-your-friends who are total strangers to me, out to some offshore island?”
“Don’t forget the fabulously showy yacht that’ll take us. Another of my father’s toys.” He pushed his hair back, but it instantly fell over his forehead again. “I can also guarantee that after the first ten minutes a few of the gang will be stepping out of line, probably consuming some kind of banned substance and then sooner or later throwing up on deck.” He smiled. “Your aunt will forbid you to come, of course.”
She bent her head, looked at him closely, and then glanced past him to Florinda, who had changed position and propped her sunglasses in her hair. She was watching them with eagle eyes as they walked down the path between the graves.
“You’ll have to get out of the house unseen.” He followed her eyes. “Fundling can collect you tomorrow morning if you like.”
Twilight lengthened the humpbacked shadows of the trees. The mountaintops were still bathed in sunlight, falling like golden icing on the tops of the pines, but nocturnal shadows had begun rising some time ago from the inner courtyard of the palazzo and the silent olive groves.
Rosa was sitting at the open window of her room with her knees drawn up, looking out. Two floors below her was the roof of the greenhouse. The glass was clouded with condensation on the inside, and only the faint light of a lamp showed through a tangle of palm leaves and branches. But palms grew outdoors in Sicily, so what else was Florinda growing in there? Maybe orchids?
In the car on the way back, Florinda had been trying to pump Rosa about her conversation with Alessandro. Rosa just said she’d met him at the airport, he had recognized her, and obviously wanted to make friends in spite of the old family feud. She could hear for herself what that sounded like, and it amused her that the reaction of the other two was exactly what she’d expected. Florinda suspected a plot hatched by her archenemy Cesare, while Zoe acted like the big sister and condescendingly warned her against Alessandro’s bad influence. The whole thing made Rosa sleepy rather than angry. She blamed it on jet lag; she still wasn’t entirely over that. And while the two of them got worked up, she simply dozed off and slept for most of the drive home.
She didn’t say a word about the island.
Instead, she waited until Florinda was running herself a bath, then went into her study again. She opened the computer, planning to find out more about this Isola Luna and maybe look at two or three of the articles she hadn’t had time to read in the morning. She was also going to Google the name Tano Carnevare.
But a new window opened on the desktop, asking for a password. Florinda must have discovered that she’d been on the computer earlier, and had taken precautious to make sure she didn’t do it again without permission. Rosa angrily closed it down, fervently wishing it would get a virus, and wandered out onto the terrace with the panoramic view to the west of the palazzo.
She skirted the swimming pool, fished a struggling moth out of the water, and entered the bay of the terrace, which had a whirlpool set into it. From here you could see the entire slope, the treetops and the lights along the drive up to the house, about a mile and a quarter long from where it left Route 117 and wound through the pinewoods and olive groves up to the palazzo. But the view went on and on, out to the yellow-brown hilly landscape to the west and north. Far away on the horizon, the lights of a small town flickered.
Rosa leaned on the balustrade, listening to the evening wind
“You’re asking me if I’ll go with you and your, forgive me, only barely tolerable cousin—”
“Second cousin.”
“—and a gang of definitely-not-your-friends who are total strangers to me, out to some offshore island?”
“Don’t forget the fabulously showy yacht that’ll take us. Another of my father’s toys.” He pushed his hair back, but it instantly fell over his forehead again. “I can also guarantee that after the first ten minutes a few of the gang will be stepping out of line, probably consuming some kind of banned substance and then sooner or later throwing up on deck.” He smiled. “Your aunt will forbid you to come, of course.”
She bent her head, looked at him closely, and then glanced past him to Florinda, who had changed position and propped her sunglasses in her hair. She was watching them with eagle eyes as they walked down the path between the graves.
“You’ll have to get out of the house unseen.” He followed her eyes. “Fundling can collect you tomorrow morning if you like.”
Twilight lengthened the humpbacked shadows of the trees. The mountaintops were still bathed in sunlight, falling like golden icing on the tops of the pines, but nocturnal shadows had begun rising some time ago from the inner courtyard of the palazzo and the silent olive groves.
Rosa was sitting at the open window of her room with her knees drawn up, looking out. Two floors below her was the roof of the greenhouse. The glass was clouded with condensation on the inside, and only the faint light of a lamp showed through a tangle of palm leaves and branches. But palms grew outdoors in Sicily, so what else was Florinda growing in there? Maybe orchids?
In the car on the way back, Florinda had been trying to pump Rosa about her conversation with Alessandro. Rosa just said she’d met him at the airport, he had recognized her, and obviously wanted to make friends in spite of the old family feud. She could hear for herself what that sounded like, and it amused her that the reaction of the other two was exactly what she’d expected. Florinda suspected a plot hatched by her archenemy Cesare, while Zoe acted like the big sister and condescendingly warned her against Alessandro’s bad influence. The whole thing made Rosa sleepy rather than angry. She blamed it on jet lag; she still wasn’t entirely over that. And while the two of them got worked up, she simply dozed off and slept for most of the drive home.
She didn’t say a word about the island.
Instead, she waited until Florinda was running herself a bath, then went into her study again. She opened the computer, planning to find out more about this Isola Luna and maybe look at two or three of the articles she hadn’t had time to read in the morning. She was also going to Google the name Tano Carnevare.
But a new window opened on the desktop, asking for a password. Florinda must have discovered that she’d been on the computer earlier, and had taken precautious to make sure she didn’t do it again without permission. Rosa angrily closed it down, fervently wishing it would get a virus, and wandered out onto the terrace with the panoramic view to the west of the palazzo.
She skirted the swimming pool, fished a struggling moth out of the water, and entered the bay of the terrace, which had a whirlpool set into it. From here you could see the entire slope, the treetops and the lights along the drive up to the house, about a mile and a quarter long from where it left Route 117 and wound through the pinewoods and olive groves up to the palazzo. But the view went on and on, out to the yellow-brown hilly landscape to the west and north. Far away on the horizon, the lights of a small town flickered.
Rosa leaned on the balustrade, listening to the evening wind
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