Chapter 12: Breakfast at the Don's

Wynne did not breathe until the footsteps went away down the hall.

"Out," she whispered. "The window."

"Wynne."

"Now, Massimo."

He pulled on his coat, kissed her once, hard, and went over the sill into the dark.

She stood at the glass and watched the lemon tree shake, and the shadow of a man cross the garden wall.

Then she shut the window and sat on the bed with the quilt around her shoulders, and counted the hours until the Don's breakfast.

It was served at seven, in the sunroom, on a table set for four.

Aurelio sat in his cardigan with his rimless glasses on his forehead and a tablet propped against the sugar bowl.

Rosanna sat on his right, very straight, with a cup she did not lift.

Fabrizio sat across from them, eating eggs left-handed, and looked up as Wynne came in.

He smiled at her with a mouth full of egg.

The fourth chair was empty.

"Massimo will join us," Aurelio said. "He telephoned from the airport. I'm told he landed an hour ago."

"Did he?" Wynne said.

"No."

She took the seat across from the empty one.

"I'm glad you're rested," Aurelio said. "I want to show you two small things, my dear, before the coffee goes cold."

He turned the tablet toward her.

The picture was gray and grainy, taken from a high angle.

It showed the pantry hall.

A girl in a baggy sweater stood against the wall with her hand flat to the plaster, and a stocky man in a gold chain took her wrist.

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