Page 46 of Past Due

Chapter Thirteen

My head spun as Rina talked a mile a minute while leading me into the house. She hopped from telling me about the ornately carved wooden doors to the tile to the painting hanging on the wall, and I tried to keep up with her.

“I hope my English is okay! I don’t get to practice often.”

“It’s very good,” I assured her, sensing she was a bit self-conscious about it. “Did you learn in school?”

“School and television,” she said, the tap of her sandals echoing off the tiles. The cathedral ceiling in the entryway amplified her voice as she started listing off the shows she enjoyed. The more animated she became, the more she reminded me of Aston.

A tall, dark-haired man who seemed close to my age, maybe a few years older, stepped out of a room and grimaced. “Rina! You’re going to scare her off if you keep chattering like that!”

“If she was easy to scare off, she wouldn’t be marrying our uncle. Right, Marley?” Rina insisted.

“Right,” I agreed, enjoying her company even more.

The man frowned as he joined us in the hallway. His gaze skipped behind us, and I glanced back to see Besian entering the house with Zec at his side. I had no idea where Zec had been hiding outside. He moved silently, like a predator, and I wondered what, exactly, he did for the family.

Besian and the man I assumed was Luka exchanged greetings and hugs before he introduced me. “Luka, this is Marley. Marley, this is my nephew.”

“Hello.” This close, I could see the family resemblance between the two men. Luka was taller by a few inches with broader shoulders, but they had the same eyes and nose. Where Besian shaved smooth every morning, Luka had a beard trimmed short. Both men had the same sharp fashion sense. Glancing at Rina, I decided that a keen eye for clothing was genetic.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marley.” Luka gave me a genuine smile. “I would shake hands, but I have a cold.”

“Understandable,” I assured him.

“I’m sure you’re tired after your hike this morning and the trip. Rina has arranged some refreshments for you, and I think she’d like to take you on a tour of the house,” Luka said, neatly dismissing me.

A bit unsettled by his curtness, I nevertheless smiled and left with Rina. The men disappeared into a room and shut the door behind them. Once we were alone, Rina made an annoyed sound. “I’m sorry he was so rude.”

“He wasn’t.”

“He’s not comfortable with people who aren’t family,” she explained. “And, he isn’t feeling well so it makes him grumpier than usual.”

“It’s fine. Really,” I insisted. “I’m not at all offended.”

Rina studied me for a moment and then nodded. “That’s good that you aren’t soft. You’re perfect for this family.”

I was still trying to process that warning when she looped her arm through mine again and led me to the spacious kitchen where an older woman was busy chopping vegetables. She eyed me warily as I entered her domain, and I hoped I wasn’t going to make a bad impression.

“Marley, this is Drita. She takes care of us.”

“Hello. Um. Përshëndetje.” I attempted the Albanian greeting Agnesa had taught me, and Drita narrowed her eyes. Whatever she said to Rina I couldn’t understand, but her body language told me everything I needed to know. Drita looked me over, her expression souring, and I could tell she didn’t approve of me in the least as she said something in a cutting tone.

Rina chastised her and sent her an imploring look. She gave Drita a side hug and dramatic kiss on her cheek. The older woman smiled and waved her away, gesturing to the vegetables in front of her. I stood there feeling awkward until Rina motioned for me to join her at table on the other side of the massive kitchen.

Tea service had been laid out along with several different platters of food. The byreks filled with cottage cheese and spinach were familiar to me and something I had enjoyed already on my journey. The little balls of fried dough dusted with powdered sugar and served alongside bowls of jam and some kind of chocolate spread looked delicious. There was also dried and fresh fruit available and all sorts of other tasty things. It seemed like an absurd amount of food for two women, but my short time in the country had taught me that Albanians took hospitality seriously.

Before I sat down with Rina, I made my way to the sink, carefully skirting Drita who suspiciously watched me, and washed my hands. When I joined Rina at the table, she had already poured tea for us and was halfway through one of the donut hole pastries.

“Petulla,” she said after dabbing her powdered sugar covered lips with a napkin. “I’m going to have to run for an hour to burn off all these calories, but it’s worth it.” She gestured to the pile of golden brown byreks. “Have you had these yet?”

I nodded and used a fork to move one to my plate. “I stayed at a farm for a couple of days while hiking. Agnesa taught me how to make them. Pickles, too!”

“You stayed at a farm? Like a guest house?”

“Not exactly.” I sipped the tea and recognized the floral flavor of the blend as one that was served all over the country. “I found a puppy near the trail, and I carried it back to a café. The old man who ran it told me it belonged to Agnesa so I walked a few miles to her place to return it.”

“You carried a puppy down a mountain and then to a farm?”

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