Page 26 of The Rainbow Recipe
“Melted butter, bad image.” Pris pondered the possibility of lying to Leo, but she wasn’t good at it. She’d simply rather act than talk—a flaw, she knew. But talking never got her anywhere.
“Have you heard anything new from your family? Maybe they’ve learned that Katherine died naturally.”
“It’s just noon over there. The time difference sucks. Check the news on your phone, if you want, but it won’t change my mind. Katherine died painfully. I don’t know what a heart attack feels like, but I don’t think it causes seizures.” Pris drove past the main farm drive, looking for the lane she’d noticed earlier. She wanted to sneak into the upstairs storage, not drive up and announce her presence.
“Turn right at the curve sign. This car will never be the same if you go down that road, though.” He winced as she hit the brake and bumped off the pavement.
“I was planning on walking,” she grumbled.
“The entrance is over a mile in, all of it uphill. Just try not to take the bottom off the car with your lunatic driving.” He braced himself on the dash as they hit a bump. “I’ve got a crew in the lower cave. Had I known your plan, I could have had them pick us up.”
“I don’t work well with others.” Grudgingly, she slowed down.
“You’re doing better than I am with the twins. You simply don’twantto work with others. I don’t know how you run a business that way.”
She parked in a spot between a Jeep and a pick-up. “I cook. My employees serve. Works fine.” She slammed out and examined the dirt road leading into what appeared to be an impenetrable hedge of prickly greenery.
A slender young man in a hard hat strolled toward them. He could help Dante out of the car. She hated having the conte touching her. Okay, so she lied to herself all the time.
How did this hidden cave-tunnel connect to the one above? Did it? Could she walk around the hill and up to the storage cave?
“We’ve almost got the debris field cleared,” the cheerful—student?—announced in American English as he helped Dante out of the midget car. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“He’s a masochist,” Pris told him. “The professor loves torturing himself. Make sure you kick the crutch out from under him a time or two. Is there a path on the outside leading up to the main cave on top?”
“They built a wall up there to keep anyone from traipsing through the yard.” The student didn’t seem the least fazed by Pris’s grumpiness. “I have the feeling Signor Ugazio doesn’t like having us here.”
“He doesn’t like being told he can’t sell the gold cuff he found. He’ll like it even less if we find more and it brings more visitors and no money.” Dante swung stiffly over the uneven ground.
The man had muscles underneath that blazer. Stupid hormones, getting all excited at the sight of a few masculine muscles. Brains were more important...oh wait, he had those too. Dang.
The student loped alongside them. “The tunnel’s not large enough for storage, really. Old pigeon holes, so there’s probably an air vent or two somewhere. Nothing new or exciting that I can see.”
Pigeon holes? Just not asking. “I’m Pris. Do you have a name?” she asked instead.
“Keith.” All big white teeth and a few adolescent pimples, the student held out his hand. “The prof never remembers our names.”
“The prof doesn’t care about our names. To him, people are interchangeable cogs,” Pris retorted.
Undaunted and not responding, Dante reached the opening in the hillside and gestured. “There you are. Fetch a hardhat and start crawling.”
Crap on a stick. She’d have tocrawl? Pris shot him a glare. She hadn’t intended to exploretunnels. Instead, she started up the hillside, to the wall she could see blocking the dirt path. She wanted to explore the big cave above, where she’d felt the chill.
Dante didn’t follow. He sat on a boulder and began quizzing his student, leaving her to figure out how to climb a stone wall.
It was easier to climb the tree beside it. Swinging her leg from the branch to the wall, she perched on top to observe. Up on the driveway where they’d parked earlier, men were loading barrels onto a long, open truck, a vehicle like the ones she’d seen them hauling grapes in. She studied the group until she recognized Leo’s short sturdiness and cursed under her breath.
Okay, talk, not action. She’d have to hunt ghosts and hidden tunnels another day. She wasn’t Evie. Ghosts didn’t talk to her. But sometimes, minds did.
Dropping down, she strolled up just as the men were locking the back panel. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Dante’s inspecting his dig and I got bored.”
Leo ran his hand through his hair and gestured for the truck to move on. “We’re done here anyway. Can I offer you wine or water?”
“Water would be good, thanks. I’ve been thinking about your Brexit problem and wondering if shipping directly to the US might not solve the situation now that La Bella Gente is opening over there. Maybe they could set up a lotion manufactory in South Carolina. Land and labor are cheap, and the area could use the jobs.” Stating facts was easier than lying. She strolled toward a vine-covered gazebo. Inside was a wine-tasting set-up, complete with bar and running water. Apparently grapes and olives were a growth industry here.
“Not my decision.” Leo opened a bottle of mineral water he took from a cooler and set out glasses. “But if I ever reach Lucia, I’ll suggest it.”
Dante had been right—just tell Leo what he wanted to hear, and he’d listen. Now, if only he’dthink...He gave off no interesting vibrations. She had no notion how to direct the conversation to the topics that interested her. “The company is opening bistros as well, selling olive oil along with the food. If you can’t talk directly to Lucia, is there anyone else you communicate with?”
