6 - Pages of Sin

letter into my pocket. I glanced around and noticed everyone staring at me with concern. “Sorry. This belongs to an old friend of mine. I’d better return it to her.”
    I asked Meredith for the book in which she’d found the letter. It was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, nicely bound in dark green leather. I wondered how that book had ended up in the box of damaged books, but figured my mother must have added it. I gave Meredith another book from the box, then had to struggle to focus on the class.
    “Okay, grab your skewers and let’s get back on track,” I said lightly. “Who has a torn page we can fix?”
    I managed to make it through the rest of the hour despite being completely distracted by the unsettling letter and its unexpected author.
    After class, Robin and I walked to our cars together. I told her all about Elaine’s letter and how suspicious it was that we’d found it inside a book belonging to Wanda.
    “You might be making too much out of this,” Robin said, then grinned. “Of course, after all the craziness with me and the wild Ukrainians, I can’t blame you for suspecting foul play wherever you go.”
    She was referring to an unpleasant time when she’d been involved in the murder of an international spy.
    “You have to admit it’s a little odd,” I said.
    “I guess it is.” She pulled her keys out of her purse. “Are you going to give the letter to Byron?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe I should give it back to Elaine.”
    “Ask your mom,” Robin said, grabbing me in a quick hug good-bye. “She’ll know what to do.”
    On the drive home, I took Robin’s advice and called my mother to check to make sure she and Dad would still be awake when I got there.
    “We just put our pajamas on, but we’ll wait up for you,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong, Mom.”
    “Of course there’s something wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”
    I rolled my eyes. Would I ever get a damn thing past her? “Fine. Something’s very wrong and you’re going to want to see it.”

Chapter Six
     
    The following day was glorious. It was summer in wine country, and the air was clear and mild with just a touch of a breeze, so Mom, Elaine, and I decided to sit outside for lunch. The back terrace of Ristorante Umbria offered a lovely view of the grapevine-dotted hills that rose up from the gully nearby. At the bottom of the gully flowed a bubbly, fast-moving stream that coursed down from nearby Red Mountain and meandered through Dharma. I wasn’t sure of its real name, but we locals liked to call it Moon River because our rugged, hilly region of Sonoma County was known as the Valley of the Moon.
    Olive trees in large wooden crates were strategically arranged on the terrace to give the illusion of intimate dining spaces. We relaxed under a colorful umbrella and gave the waiter our orders: Hanger steak and frites for Mom, seared scallops in butter and garlic with a side of bowtie pasta for me, and a Margherita pizza for Elaine. Evidently, we were all hungry.
    A server placed chunky slices of sour dough bread and whipped butter on the table, then walked away. I stared at the bread, wondering how many more calories I could force-feed myself before I cried uncle.
    “Isn’t this beautiful?” Mom said, looking out at the rows of grapevines thriving in the sun.
    Elaine spread her napkin over her lap. “I’m so glad you suggested it.”
    “This is one of my favorite places in Dharma,” I said.
    Elaine glanced around. “It’s beautiful.”
    Mom took a sip of water, then gazed at Elaine with a thoughtful frown. “After I saw you with Byron the other day, I got to thinking. It was you who was Byron’s sweetheart back in the day. Not Wanda. Am I remembering that right?”
    I tried to keep a straight face. Only my mother could get away with that kind of opening line. I would have fumbled and bumbled my way through it. I was a terrible prevaricator, sad to say, so it was a big surprise to discover that my mother was rather brilliant at it. Not that she was lying, exactly. She just wasn’t revealing that she already knew the answers.
    Elaine released a heavy sigh. “Yes, your memory is perfectly sound.”
    “Whatever happened between you two?”
    “It was a silly misunderstanding.” But silly didn’t seem to fit with the fact that her fingers trembled as she gripped the stem of her water glass. “I had to leave town for a short time,” Elaine said, reminiscing. “I was on