The Villa

And in and out of the shops that lined the square.
    Avano had been milking the company, he thought. That was a given, and already known. But what David now carried in his briefcase took things to another level. Donato stepped it all up to fraud.
    And Margaret? There was nothing to indicate she'd had knowledge of or participation in any skimming prior to her promotion. Had she turned so quickly? Or had she learned of the false account and that knowledge had led to her death?
    Whatever the explanation, it didn't answer the thorniest of questions: Who was in charge now? Who was it Donato was surely calling in panic for instructions, for help?
    Would whoever that was believe, as easily as Donato had believed, that La Signora intended to take the matter to the police? Or would they be cool-headed and call the bluff?
    In any case, within two days Donato Giambelli was going to be out on his ass. Which added one more layer to David's headache. Don would have to be replaced, and quickly. The internal investigation would have to continue until all leaks were plugged.
    His own time in Italy would likely be extended, and at a point in his life where he wanted and needed to be home.
    He ordered a glass of wine, checked the time, then took out his cell phone. "Maria? This is David Cutter. Is Pilar available?"
    "One moment, Mr. Cutter."
    He tried to imagine where she was in the house, what she was doing.
    The last night they'd been together, they'd made love in his van on the edge of the vineyard. Like a couple of giddy teenagers, he remembered. So eager for each other, so desperate to touch.
    And remembering brought on a painful longing.
    It was easier, he found, to imagine her sitting across from him, while the light dimming toward dusk struck the dome of the cathedral like an arrow, and the air filled with the flurry of pigeons on the wing.
    When all this is over, he promised himself, he would have that moment with her.
    "David?"
    The fact that she was a little breathless made him smile. She'd hurried. "I was just sitting here, in St. Mark's Square." He picked up the glass of wine the waiter brought him, sipped. "Drinking an interesting little Chianti and thinking of you."
    "Is there music?"
    "A small orchestra across the plaza, playing American show tunes. Sort of spoils the moment."
    "Not at all. Not for me."
    "How are the kids?"
    "They're fine. Actually, I think Maddy and I are cautiously approaching friendship. She came out to the greenhouse yesterday after school. I got a lesson on photosynthesis, most of which was over my head. Theo broke up with the girl he's been seeing."
    "Julie?"
    "Julie was last winter, David. Keep up. Carrie. He and Carrie broke up, and he moped for about ten minutes. He's sworn off girls and intends to dedicate his life to his music."
    "Been there. That should last maybe a day."
    "I'll let you know. How's everything there?"
    "Better now, for talking to you. Will you tell the kids I'll call them tonight? I'll make it about six your time."
    "All right. I guess you don't know when you might be coming home?"
    "Not yet. There are some complications. I miss you, Pilar."
    "I miss you, too. Do me a favor?"
    "You've got it."
    "Just sit there awhile. Drink your wine, listen to the music, watch the light change. I'll think of you there."
    "I'll think of you here, too. Bye."
    When he hung up, he lingered over the wine. It had been an experience to talk to a woman—to her—about his children that way. To someone who understood them, appreciated them. It connected them in a way that made them almost like family. And that, he realized, was what he wanted. He wanted a family again. All the links that made the circle.
    On an unsteady breath, he set down his wine. He wanted a wife. He wanted Pilar to be his wife.
    Too fast? he wondered. Too much?
    No. No, it wasn't. Any way he looked at it, it was exactly right. They were grown-ups with half their lives behind them. Why should they waste the rest of it inching along in stages?
    He got to his feet, tossed some lire on the table.
    Why should he waste another minute? What better place to buy a ring for the woman he loved than Venice? When he turned, and the first window to catch his eye was a jeweler's, David considered it a sign.
    It wasn't as easy as he assumed it would be. He didn't want a diamond. It occurred to him that Avano had probably given her one, and he discovered in himself a deep-seated aversion to giving Pilar anything Avano had.
    He wanted something