remembers that he was always working on the wall before he died.”
“We are running out of time,” Giulia said. “We didn’t want to lie to you, but what else could we do? It is dangerous for you to be involved, and we only wanted to protect you. Do you understand now, Isabel, why we wished for you to move into town? We are very worried that the men will grow impatient and show up here. And if you should be in their way…” She made a sharp, cutting gesture.
“It is very bad, this thing that has happened,” Vittorio said. “We must find the money, which means we must finish taking apart the wall as quickly as possible.”
“
“Interesting.” Ren rose. “I need some time to think about this.”
“Please don’t take too long.” Giulia beseeched him with her eyes.
“We are very sorry we had to lie to you,” Vittorio said. “And, Isabel, I am also sorry about that ghost last night. It was Giancarlo. If I had known, I would have put a stop to it. You will still come for dinner next week, yes?”
“And the porcinis?” Giulia said to Isabel. “The next time it rains.”
“Of course,” Isabel replied.
When the couple left, Isabel sighed and sat down on the wall. For a moment she let herself drink in the peace of the garden, and then she gazed at Ren. “Do you believe them?”
“Not a word.”
“Neither do I.” She’d started to nibble her thumbnail but caught herself in time. “One thing I do believe: There’s something hidden here.”
“The country’s crawling with buried artifacts.” He patted the back pocket of his jeans, then seemed to realize he’d already smoked his daily cigarette. “When an artifact is found, even if it’s on private land, it becomes the property of the government. Maybe the good people of Casalleone have a bead on something so valuable they don’t want to turn it over.”
“You think the entire town’s in on a conspiracy? Bernardo’s a cop. It doesn’t seem too likely.”
“Cops have been known to be crooked. Do you have a better idea?” He gazed out at the hills.
“It would have to be one heck of an artifact.” A leaf landed on the wall beside her, and she brushed it away. “We need to go along with this, I think.”
“I agree. I also intend to be around when they’re tearing that wall apart.”
“So do I.” One of the cats came up and rubbed against her legs. She reached down to pet it.
“I need to get the car, and then I have to go up to the villa for a while, God protect me.”
“Good. I have work to do, and you distract me.”
“The crisis book?”
“Yes. And don’t you dare say a word.”
“Not me. So I distract you, do I?”
She tucked her thumbnail into her fist. “I mean it, Ren. Don’t bother turning all that smolder on me, because this isn’t going any further until we talk.”
He sighed and looked resigned. “We can have dinner tonight in San Gimignano. And we’ll talk.”
“Thank you.”
His lips curved in a cocky smile. “But the minute you’re done talking, I get to put my hands anywhere I want. And wear something sexy. Preferably low-cut and definitely without underwear.”
“You high school boys crack me up. Any other requests?”
“No, I think that about uncovers it.” He whistled as he walked away, looking more like a gorgeous goof-off than Hollywood’s favorite psychopath.
She took a quick bath, then grabbed a pad of paper and jotted down a few ideas for her book, but her brain wasn’t working, so she set the pad aside and made her way up to the villa to see how Tracy was doing.
“Just peachy.” Ren’s ex-wife lay on the chaise by the pool, her eyes closed. “Harry and the kids hate me, and the new baby is giving me gas.”
Isabel had spotted the children climbing out of Harry’s car in the drive, their faces smeared with gelato. “If Harry hated you, I don’t think he’d still be here.”
Tracy raised the back of the chaise and put on her sunglasses. “It’s only because he feels guilty about the kids. He’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Have the two of you tried to talk?”
“I mainly talked, and he acted condescending.”
“Why don’t you try again? Tonight, after the children are asleep. Pour him a glass of wine and ask him to list three things you could do for him that would make him happy.”
“That’s easy. Raise my IQ twenty points, get organized instead of pregnant, and change my entire personality.”
Isabel laughed. “Feeling a little sorry for ourself, are we?”
Tracy squinted at her over the top of her sunglasses. “You’re one weird shrink.”
“I know. Think about it, okay? Ask the question, and make it sincere. No sarcasm.”
“No sarcasm? You just lost me. So tell me about you and Ren.”
Isabel slouched back in the chair. “I’d rather not.”
“The good doc can dish it out, but she can’t take it. Nice to see I’m not the only screwed-up female sitting around this pool.”
“Definitely not. And what can I say other than noting the obvious-I’ve lost my mind.”
“He does that to women.”
“I am way out of my league.”
“On the other hand, you have a low tolerance for bullshit, so you know exactly what you’re getting into. That gives you a distinct advantage over his other women.”
“I suppose.”
“Mommyyyy!” Connor shot around the corner, his fat blue shorts bobbing from side to side as he ran.
“Hey, big guy!” Tracy rose, scooped him up, and covered his gelato-stained cheeks with kisses. He peered at Isabel over her shoulder and grinned, showing sparkly little teeth.
Something constricted around Isabel’s heart. Tracy’s life might be in disarray, but it still had its rewards.
Ren grabbed the FedEx envelope he’d been waiting for from the console in the villa’s entrance hall and beat a hasty retreat to the master bedroom. He locked the door against small intruders and settled into a chair by the window. As he gazed down at the midnight blue cover with night kill typed across it in unassuming letters, he felt a sense of anticipation he hadn’t experienced in years. Howard had finally finished the script.
He knew from their initial discussions that Howard’s intention was to challenge audiences with the film’s fundamental question: Was Kaspar Street simply a psychopath, or, more disturbing, was he the inevitable by- product of a society that took violence for granted? Even Saint Isabel would have to approve of that message. He smiled as he remembered the way she’d looked less than an hour ago, with the sun shining in her hair and those beautiful eyes drinking him in. He loved the way she smelled, like spice, sex, and human goodness. But he couldn’t think about her now, not when his entire career was about to open up. He settled back and began to read.
Two hours later he was in a cold sweat. This was the best work Jenks had ever done. The part of Street had dark twists and subtle nuances that would stretch Ren’s acting chops to the limit. It was no wonder every actor in Hollywood had wanted a shot at this film.
But there’d been a major change since they’d last spoken, a change Howard hadn’t discussed with Ren. With one brilliant stroke he’d intensified the film’s theme and turned it into an existential nightmare. Instead of being a man who preyed on the women he loved, Kaspar Street was now a child molester.
Ren leaned back and shut his eyes. The change was pure genius, but…
No buts. This was the part that would put him on the A-list of every top director in Hollywood.
He grabbed some paper to begin making notes on the character. This was always the first step for him, and he liked to do it immediately after his initial reading, while his impressions were still fresh. He’d jot down sensory memories, ideas about costume and physical movement, anything that came to mind that would eventually help him build the character.
He toyed with the cap of the pen. Usually the ideas flowed, but the change Jenks had made had thrown him off balance, and nothing was happening. He needed more time to absorb it. He’d try again tomorrow.
Several hours later, as he headed back to the farmhouse, he decided not to mention the change to Isabel. No
