Page 22 of Code Name: Dante

“I appreciate it.” I wasn’t ready to, though. My feelings were too new, too jumbled.

“I was about to get a yoga session in. Want to join me?”

I sighed. “Definitely. I can’t tell you how much I need that right now.”

I followed her into the master bedroom, where two mats and two zafu cushions were set up. “Do you and Pershing do yoga together?” I asked.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she smiled. “We do.”

I almost laughed out loud at the idea that Alessandro would ever do it with me.

“I was stunned when he wanted to,” she said as though she’d read my thoughts. I watched her lean down and pick two crystals. “Rose quartz and a smooth black tourmaline for heart healing and protection,” she explained, handing them to me. “I thought you might need both.”

I placed them beside my mat, their presence oddly comforting as we moved through our poses. The bedroom’s massive windows filled the space with golden light, and the gentle lapping of the lake created a natural meditation soundtrack. As we flowed from one position to the next, I felt some of the day’s tension begin to dissolve.

When we finished,Alice led me out to the deck off the great room. A movement at the tree line caught my eye—one of the security teams doing their rounds. The sight was reassuring rather than feeling invasive. Was it my relaxed state after the session, or did it signal acceptance?

“Come sit down,” Alice said, motioning to two Adirondack chairs

I sank into the deep seat, tucking my legs under me. A loon’s call echoed across the lake’s surface. “It’s so nice here,” I said.

She rested her head against the chair. “I know. I never dreamed I’d want to leave Manhattan, but now, I can’t imagine going back.”

A door opened behind us, and Blackjack, one of the guys I met at the wedding, walked over to where we sat. “Miss Gregory? The team just arrived with the stuff they recovered from the coffee shop’s basement.”

I started to rise, but Alice put a hand on my arm. “Let them handle it.”

“I need to keep busy. Otherwise, I’ll just sit here thinking about everything that could go wrong.” Like Alessandro facing his brother in court tomorrow and what the ramifications of that might be. Or like whoever was behind the flooding making another move.

“At least, let them bring it inside,” she encouraged. “Then you can go through it.”

“It’s been so long since I have. I guess I took for granted that it would always be there.”

I spent the next hour cataloging the contents of each of the boxes that were delivered, something I should’ve done long ago.

“Oh my goodness.” Gram came out of the bedroom and gasped. “I haven’t seen most of that in decades.” She sat in one of the dining table chairs and picked up a pair of gloves. “See these markings, little bird?” she asked, fingering the leather’s delicate detail. “That’s how you know who sewed them. The women were responsible for that step in the process.”

“Yeah?”

“In the beginning, they were done by hand. Men would cut the leather from the patterns, then boxes of pieces would be taken to the homes where they’d be sewn together. Eventually, the manufacturers added rows upon rows of electric sewing machines at their plants, which were quite expensive in those days. Then the women happily moved from working at home to the factories.”

“Now, everyone wants to work remotely.”

She nodded. “Some think the grass is greener, but it never is.”

I murmured my agreement, remembering how I’d once believed my life would be so much more exciting, living in New York City. It hadn’t been. Manhattan was crowded, expensive, and noisy. More often than not, I found myself longing for the quiet peace of a place like Gloversville. Canada Lake was even more so.

“I’ll start dinner,” Gram said, pushing her chair back and using her cane to stand.

“Oh, err, I’m not sure what’s here. We may need to go grocery shopping.”

She turned to me with a smug smile. “I had one of those nice young men bring everything I needed.”

“For?”

“Sauce, of course. Oh, and go get Alice, little bird. She wants me to teach her how to make it.”

“I’ve always wondered something. Your parents and grandparents were German. How did you get so good at making marinara?”

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