Page 108 of Lethal Legacy

“Gah!” I roll my eyes. “Let’s just hope it actually holds together until it’s done.” Ofelia laughs.

I turn to Mickey. “How did you do?”

“All the transitions worked perfectly,” he says with quiet satisfaction.

“Your teacher told me that you know more than even the stage manager.”

Mickey colors and turns away. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he mumbles. But he walks a little taller as we leave the auditorium, nodding shyly to some of his classmates.

“So.” I say, as Luis closes the car doors. “I know you’re probably starving. Would it be okay if we made a quick stop on our way home? A friend of mine has been unwell, and I want to check in on him briefly.” Seeing the children’s faces grow wary, I add, “Roman has security at the villa, and the nurses caring for my friend are hired by Hale, so it’s not a secret, okay?”

“Oh.” Ofelia and Mickey exchange a silent glance, then nod, their faces clearing. Their visible relief makes my heart twist. I wonder how many times they’ve been asked by the adults in their lives to keep secrets. Not for the first time, I feel a fierce desire to protect them from the manipulations of unworthy adult figures.

“So is this man, like, your boyfriend?” Ofelia asks the question seemingly casually, but all three sets of eyes slide toward me.

“Hardly.” I grin. “Juan is almost ninety and is in a wheelchair.”

“Oh!” She sits back in her seat, looking even more relieved. “Oh, well, that’s good, then.” Braced for questions about who exactly Juan is, I’m completely taken aback by her next comment. “I don’t think Roman would like it very much if you had a boyfriend.”

“Nope.” Masha shakes her head vigorously.

“Ha,” Mickey says, but he’s grinning, too. “Yeah. Can’t see Roman liking thatat all.” The three children look at each other and giggle. Rather flustered, and entirely unsure what to say, I decide that silence is the better part of discretion and say nothing at all.

To my relief, Luis changes the subject, and we talk about Holy Week for the rest of the car ride.

32

LUCIA

Carlos meets us at the door. The children’s faces light up when he greets them by name.

“I remember you.” Ofelia’s relief is apparent. “You cared for Babushka Vera when she was sick last year.”

“Then you probably remember Anna, in the kitchen.” Carlos smiles as he takes Masha’s hand. “She’s baking a cake. Would you like to see?”

Thank you, I mouth to him over their heads as the kids head eagerly for the kitchen. He smiles and waves me away.He’s on the terrace, he mouths back.

I go upstairs and find Papa staring fiercely out at the distant sea. He starts when he sees me. “Docha.” He frowns, checking his watch. “You have time?”

His speech has improved even more. Once again I feel the tug of mingled pleasure and concern.

I love that he is here and getting the help he so badly needs.

I hate that at any moment it might all disappear.

“I have time.” I sit down beside him, taking his gnarled hand in my own. “How are you?”

“Hmph.” He grunts, not looking at me.

“Is something bothering you?”

“Nyet.”But the answer is too curt to be reassuring.

“Did you see something? Is there someone watching you?” I scan the area, but I can’t see down to the street. I can’t imagine where he would have seen anyone.

“Nyet.”He shakes his head. He’s frowning, and I can sense his tension. His fingers move restlessly on the blanket, his eyes avoiding mine. I feel increasingly uneasy. “Papa.” I lower my voice. “Is it your contact in Argentina?”

He makes a noncommittal noise, turning his head to hide his expression.

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