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there was, was all color and comfort.
 Great painting. He gestured toward the oil over the fireplace. It was a
forest scene, deep with shadows, and a lake gone milky with the light of
a full white moon.
 Yes, I like it.
There was other art all of places, wild, lonely places struck by
moonlight, he noted. There were no people in any of the paintings, and no
photographs at all.
 Got a thing for the moon, he commented, then glanced at her. She
studied him, he thought, as the dog did, speculatively.  The art, the
name of your shop.
 Yes, I have a thing for the moon.
 Maybe we can take a walk out to the cliffs later. Take a look at it over
the water. I don t know what phase it s in, but 
 Waxing, nearly full.
 Cool. You know your moons.
 Intimately.
 Okay if Amico has the bone?
 Offer it.
Gabe pulled it out of the bag, held it out.  Here you go, boy.
But Amico sat, making no move. Then Simone murmured in Italian, and the
dog leaned forward, closed his teeth over the bone, wagged his tail.
 That could ve been a raw steak, I imagine, Gabe commented,  with the
same result. That s some dog.
 He s a treasure. I m in the kitchen. We re having spaghetti.
 Smells great. And it shows how clever I was to pick a couple of Italian
wines. He patted the bag he carried as they stepped into the kitchen.
 This Chianti s supposed to be fairly amazing. Should I open it?
 All right. She handed him a corkscrew.  Dinner s going to be a little
while yet.
 No problem. He pulled off his jacket, then opened the wine. He set it
and the corkscrew aside.  Simone. This is going to sound strange.
 I m rarely surprised by strange.
 I was thinking today, trying to figure why I m having such a strong
reaction to you. And I can t. So I thought, maybe it s just sex and
what s wrong with that? But it s not. Not when I m standing here looking
at you, it isn t.
She got down two glasses.  What is it then?
 I don t know. But it s the kind of thing where I want to know all sorts
of things about you. Where I want to sit down somewhere and talk to you
for hours, which is weird considering we ve only had two conversations
before. It s the kind of thing where I think about how your voice sounds,
and the way you move. And that sounds lame. It s just true.
 But you don t know all sorts of things about me, do you?
 Next to nothing. So tell me everything.
She poured the wine, then got out a vase for the flowers.  I was born in
Saint Louis, she began as she filled the vase with water.  An only
child. I lived there until I was twelve dead normal childhood until I was
twelve. My parents were killed in a car accident. I got out of it with a
broken arm and a concussion.
 That s rough.
There was sympathy in his voice, but not the maudlin, pitying sort. Just
as there was comfort, but not intrusion, in the light touch of his hand
to her arm.
 Very. I moved to Saint Paul to live with my aunt and uncle. They were
very strict and not all that thrilled to have a child thrust on them, but
too worried about image to shirk their duty. Which is all I was to them.
They had a daughter close to my age, the detestable and perfect Patty. We
were never even close to being friends. She, and my aunt and uncle, made
certain I remembered who the daughter was, who the displaced orphan was.
They were never abusive, and they were never loving.
 I ve always thought the withholding of love is a kind of abuse.
She looked over at him as she began to arrange the lilies in the vase.
 You have a kind heart. Not everyone does. I was provided for, and I did
what I was told, for six years, because the alternative was foster care.
 Better the devil you know?
 Yes, exactly. I bided my time. When I was eighteen, I left. There was
insurance money that came to me then, and a small trust fund from the
sale of our house in Saint Louis. I planned to go to college. I had no
idea what I wanted to do or be, so I decided to take a year off first and
do something my parents had always talked of doing. To tour Europe.
 Alone?
 Yes, alone. She sipped her wine now, leaning back on the counter. Had
she ever told anyone even this much before? Since the night everything
changed for her?
No, no one. What would have been the point?
 I was thrilled to be alone, to have no schedule, no one telling me what
to do. It was both an adventure and a pilgrimage for me. I backpacked
through Italy.
She lifted her glass in salute.  This is very good. Anyway, when I came
home, I developed an interest in herbs. I studied them, experimented, and
started a little Internet business, selling skin and hair care products,
that sort of thing. I expanded it, eventually moved here and opened the
store. And here I am.
 There s a big chunk of stuff between backpacking in Italy and here I am.
 A very big chunk, she agreed, and took out fresh vegetables for a salad.
 Where else did you go besides Italy?
 Circumstances made it necessary for me to cut my trip short. But I did [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]