The Villa

your glass is empty. I have to say that it was so quietly vicious, and exciting. So exciting, I'm not ashamed to say that when we got back on the plane, I jumped him."
    "Jesus, Sophie." Tyler felt heat rise up the back of his neck. "Shut up and eat."
    "It didn't embarrass you at the time," she pointed out. "Whatever happens, however this all comes out, I'm always going to have the image of Jerry curled up on the floor like a cocktail shrimp. Nobody can take that away from me. Do we have any gelato?"
    "I'll get it." Pilar got up from the table, then paused and kissed Ty on the top of the head. "You're a good boy."
    Eli drew a breath, let it out. "He didn't leave much of a mark on your jaw there."
    "Guy's got pussy hands," Ty said before he could think, then winced. "I beg your pardon, La Signora."
    "As you should. I don't approve of such language at my table. But as I'm in your debt, I'll overlook it."
    "You don't owe me anything."
    "I know." She reached for his hand, held it tight. "That's why I'm in your debt. My own blood betrayed me and mine. For days knowing that opened a hole in me, made me doubt myself. Things I've done and things I haven't. Tonight I look and see the daughter of my daughter, and the boy Eli once brought to me. And that hole closes again. I regret nothing. I'm ashamed of nothing. How could I be? Whatever happens, we'll go on. We have a wedding to plan," she said, smiling as Pilar dished up ice cream. "A business to run, vines to tend." She lifted her glass. "Per famiglia."
     
    Sophia slept like a log and woke early. At six she was already closed in her office, refining a press release and making personal calls to key accounts in Europe. By seven, she'd worked her way across the Atlantic to the East Coast. She was careful, very careful not to mention Jerry's name, and not to accuse a competitor of shady practices. But she let the implication take root.
    At eight, she judged it late enough to phone the Moores at home.
    "Aunt Helen, I'm sorry to call so early."
    "Not so early. I'd've been out the door in fifteen minutes. Are you still in Venice?"
    "No, I'm home, and in need of a legal opinion. On several pesky matters actually. Some involve international law."
    "Corporate or criminal?"
    "Both. You know Donato's been taken into custody. He's being extradited to Italy today. He's not going to fight it. He's implicated someone, privately to me at this point, an American, a competitor. This person was at minimum aware of the tampering and the embezzlement, and very likely was more involved. Doesn't that make it conspiracy? Can he be charged? Margaret died here in the States, so—"
    "Hold on, hold on. You're moving much too quickly, Sophie. The law's a slow wheel. First, you're going on something Don told you. He isn't very credible at the moment."
    "He'll be more credible," she promised. "I just want a picture."
    "I'm not an expert on international law. I'm not a criminal attorney, come to that. You need to talk to James, and I'll put him on in a minute. But I'm going to tell you this, as your friend. This is a matter for the police and the system. I don't want you to do anything, and I want you to be very careful what you say and what you print. Don't make any statements without running them by either me, James or Linc."
    "I've drafted press releases for here and overseas. I'll fax them over if that's all right."
    "You do that. You talk to James now. Don't do anything."
    Sophia bit her lip. She wondered what her surrogate aunt, the judge, would have to say about the visit she and Ty had paid to Jerry the night before.
     
    At mid-morning, David stood among the rows, among the young mustard plants, at the MacMillan vineyard. He felt useless, out of touch and more than a little panicked because his just-turned-seventeen-year-old son had driven off to school that morning behind the wheel of a secondhand convertible.
    "Don't you have some papers to push?" Tyler asked him.
    "Up yours."
    "In that case I won't suggest you head over to the caves to check on the month's drawing. We're going to be testing the '93 Merlot for starters."
    "I get to taste wine, you get to rumble."
    "That's the breaks. Besides, it wasn't much of a rumble."
    "Pilar said you flattened him one-handed." David tested his injured arm. "One hand's still about all I've got, though the sadist physical therapist says I'll be back to two in no time. I want to take a pop at him." David strode between the rows to work off some of the temper.