I was going to make lasagne tonight. And it doesn't look like Lucy's going to get in. So if-"
"It don't look like driving back after midnight would be a smart thing," he cut me off as snow swirled across the tarmac in small white storms.
"I've got a guest room," I went on.
He looked at his watch, and decided it was a good time to smoke.
"In fact, driving back now isn't even a good idea," I stated. "And it looks like we need to talk."
"Yeah, well, you're probably right," he said.
What neither of us counted on as he slowly followed me to Sandbridge was that when we arrived, smoke would be drifting up from the chimney. Lucy's vintage green Suburban was parked in the drive and blanketed with snow, so I knew she had been here for a while.
"I don't understand," I said to Marino as we slammed car doors shut. "I called three times."
"Maybe I'd better leave." He stood by his Ford, not sure what to do.
"That's ridiculous. Come on. We'll figure out something. There is a couch. Besides, Lucy will be thrilled to see you.
"You got your diving shit?" he said.
"In the trunk."
We got it out together and carried it up to Dr. Mant's house, which looked even smaller and more forlorn in the weather. At the back was a screened-in porch, and we went in that way and deposited my gear on the wooden floor.
Lucy opened the door leading into the kitchen, and we were enveloped by the aroma of tomatoes and garlic. She looked baffled as she stared at Marino and the dive equipment.
"What the hell's going on?" she said.
I could tell she was upset. This had been our night to be alone, and we did not have special nights like this often in our complicated lives.
"It's a long story." I met her eyes.
We followed her inside, where a large pot was simmering on the stove. Nearby on the counter was a cutting board, and Lucy apparently had been slicing peppers and onions when we arrived. She was dressed in FBI sweats and ski socks and looked flawlessly healthy, but I could tell she had not been getting much sleep.
"There's a hose in the pantry, and just off the porch near a spigot is an empty plastic trash can," I said to Marino.
"If you'd fill that, we can soak my gear."
"I'll help," Lucy said.
"You most certainly won't." I gave her a hug. "Not until we've visited for a minute."
We waited until Marino was outside, then I pulled her over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot. A delicious steam rose and I felt happy.
"I can't believe you," I said. "God bless you."
"When you weren't back by four I figured I'd better make the sauce or we weren't going to be eating lasagne tonight."
"It might need a little more red wine. And maybe more basil and a pinch of salt. I was going to use artichokes instead of meat, although Marino won't be happy about that, but he can just eat prosciutto. How does that sound?"
I returned the lid to the pot.
"Aunt Kay, why is he here?" she asked.
"Did you get my note?"
"Sure. That's how I got in. But all it said was you had gone to a scene."
"I'm sorry. But I called several times."
"I wasn't going to answer a phone in somebody else's house," she said. "And you didn't leave a message."
"My point is that I didn't think you were here, so I invited Marino. I didn't want him to drive back to Richmond in the snow."
Disappointment glinted in her intense green eyes. "It's not a problem. As long as he and I don't have to sleep in the same room," she dryly remarked. "But I don't understand what he was even doing in Tidewater."
"Like I said, it's a long story," I answered. "The case in question has a Richmond connection."
We went out to the frigid porch and quickly swished fins, dive skin, wet suit and other gear in icy water. Then we carried all of it up to the attic, where nothing would freeze, and placed it on multiple layers of towels. I took as long a shower as the water heater would allow, and thought it unreal that Lucy, Marino and I were together in this tiny coastal cottage on a snowy New Year's Eve.
When I
"It don't look like driving back after midnight would be a smart thing," he cut me off as snow swirled across the tarmac in small white storms.
"I've got a guest room," I went on.
He looked at his watch, and decided it was a good time to smoke.
"In fact, driving back now isn't even a good idea," I stated. "And it looks like we need to talk."
"Yeah, well, you're probably right," he said.
What neither of us counted on as he slowly followed me to Sandbridge was that when we arrived, smoke would be drifting up from the chimney. Lucy's vintage green Suburban was parked in the drive and blanketed with snow, so I knew she had been here for a while.
"I don't understand," I said to Marino as we slammed car doors shut. "I called three times."
"Maybe I'd better leave." He stood by his Ford, not sure what to do.
"That's ridiculous. Come on. We'll figure out something. There is a couch. Besides, Lucy will be thrilled to see you.
"You got your diving shit?" he said.
"In the trunk."
We got it out together and carried it up to Dr. Mant's house, which looked even smaller and more forlorn in the weather. At the back was a screened-in porch, and we went in that way and deposited my gear on the wooden floor.
Lucy opened the door leading into the kitchen, and we were enveloped by the aroma of tomatoes and garlic. She looked baffled as she stared at Marino and the dive equipment.
"What the hell's going on?" she said.
I could tell she was upset. This had been our night to be alone, and we did not have special nights like this often in our complicated lives.
"It's a long story." I met her eyes.
We followed her inside, where a large pot was simmering on the stove. Nearby on the counter was a cutting board, and Lucy apparently had been slicing peppers and onions when we arrived. She was dressed in FBI sweats and ski socks and looked flawlessly healthy, but I could tell she had not been getting much sleep.
"There's a hose in the pantry, and just off the porch near a spigot is an empty plastic trash can," I said to Marino.
"If you'd fill that, we can soak my gear."
"I'll help," Lucy said.
"You most certainly won't." I gave her a hug. "Not until we've visited for a minute."
We waited until Marino was outside, then I pulled her over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot. A delicious steam rose and I felt happy.
"I can't believe you," I said. "God bless you."
"When you weren't back by four I figured I'd better make the sauce or we weren't going to be eating lasagne tonight."
"It might need a little more red wine. And maybe more basil and a pinch of salt. I was going to use artichokes instead of meat, although Marino won't be happy about that, but he can just eat prosciutto. How does that sound?"
I returned the lid to the pot.
"Aunt Kay, why is he here?" she asked.
"Did you get my note?"
"Sure. That's how I got in. But all it said was you had gone to a scene."
"I'm sorry. But I called several times."
"I wasn't going to answer a phone in somebody else's house," she said. "And you didn't leave a message."
"My point is that I didn't think you were here, so I invited Marino. I didn't want him to drive back to Richmond in the snow."
Disappointment glinted in her intense green eyes. "It's not a problem. As long as he and I don't have to sleep in the same room," she dryly remarked. "But I don't understand what he was even doing in Tidewater."
"Like I said, it's a long story," I answered. "The case in question has a Richmond connection."
We went out to the frigid porch and quickly swished fins, dive skin, wet suit and other gear in icy water. Then we carried all of it up to the attic, where nothing would freeze, and placed it on multiple layers of towels. I took as long a shower as the water heater would allow, and thought it unreal that Lucy, Marino and I were together in this tiny coastal cottage on a snowy New Year's Eve.
When I
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