The Villa

come in?"
    "Is Tony in jail?" she hissed through her teeth as she stepped back. "What the hell did he do?"
    "No, ma'am, he's not in jail." Maguire moved in. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Avano. Your husband is dead."
    "Dead?" Rene let out an annoyed huff of breath. "That's ridiculous. You've made a mistake."
    "There's no mistake, Mrs. Avano," Claremont said. "Could we sit down?"
    Rene felt a little jerk in her stomach, stepped back. "You expect me to believe Tony's dead. Just dead?"
    "We're very sorry, ma'am. Why don't we sit down?" Maguire started to take her arm, but Rene yanked away.
    She'd lost some of the color in her face, but her eyes were alive. And angry. "Was there an accident?"
    "No, ma'am. Could you tell us the last time you saw your husband, or had contact with him?"
    Rene stared hard at Claremont. "Saturday night, early Sunday morning, I guess. What happened to Tony?"
    "You weren't concerned when you didn't hear from him?"
    "We had an argument," she snapped. "Tony often goes off on little sulks afterward. I'm not his mother."
    "No, ma'am." Maguire nodded. "His wife. You were married recently, weren't you?"
    "That's right. What happened to him? I have a right to know what happened."
    "Anthony Avano was shot and killed."
    Her head jerked back, but almost immediately the color rushed back into her face. "I knew it! I warned him she'd do something crazy, but he wouldn't listen. She was harassing us, wasn't she? Those quiet types, you can't trust them."
    "Who is that, Mrs. Avano?"
    "His wife." She sucked in a breath, turned and stalked over to pick up her drink. "His ex-wife. Pilar Giambelli. The bitch killed him. If she didn't, his little tramp of a daughter did."
     
    He didn't know what to do for her. She sat in the passenger seat, her eyes closed. But he knew she wasn't sleeping. Her composure was a thin and tensile veneer, and he wasn't certain what he'd find if he managed to crack it.
    So he gave her silence on the long drive north.
    The energy, the vitality Sophia owned like breath was gone. That concerned him most. It was like having a doll sitting beside him. Maybe it was a kind of bubble, a void between the shock and the next stage of grief. He didn't know about such things. He'd never lost anyone important to him. Certainly never lost anyone so brutally and suddenly.
    When he turned into the drive, she opened her eyes. As if she sensed home. In her lap her fingers linked together.
    The bubble's burst, Ty thought, watching her knuckles go white.
    "I'll come in with you."
    She started to refuse, that knee-jerk I-can-do-it-myself response. It was hard to admit she wasn't sure she could do anything herself just yet. And he was family. She needed family.
    "Thanks. My mother." She had to swallow as he stopped the four-wheel at the base of the steps. "It's going to be very hard for my mother."
    "Sophia." He laid his hand over hers, tightening his grip when she would have shifted away. "Sophia," he said again until she looked at him. "People always think they have to be strong. They don't."
    "Giambellis do. I'm numb, Ty. And I'm afraid of what's going to happen inside me when I'm not. I'm afraid to start thinking. I'm afraid to start feeling. All I can do is the next thing."
    "Then we'll do the next thing."
    He got out of the car, came around to her side. And in a gesture that made her throat burn, took her hand.
    The house was warm, and fragrant with her mother's flowers. Sophia looked around the grand foyer like a stranger. Nothing had changed. How could it be that nothing had changed?
    She watched Maria come down the hall. Everything moves like a dream, Sophia thought. Even footsteps echo like a dream.
    "Maria, where is my mother?"
    "Upstairs. She's working in your office. Miss Sophia?"
    "And La Signora ?"
    Uneasy, Maria looked toward Tyler. "She is in the fields, with Mr. Mac."
    "Would you send someone for them, please. Send someone out for my grandparents?"
    "Yes, right away."
    She went quickly, while Sophia turned toward the stairs. Her hand tightened on Tyler's. She could hear music coming from her office. Something light and frothy. When she stepped into the doorway, she saw her mother, her hair scooped back, bent over the keyboard of the computer.
    "What do you mean I've committed an illegal function? Damn it, I hate you."
    Another time the baffled frustration would have amused Sophia. Now it, and everything, made her want to weep.
    "Mama?"
    "Oh, thank God! Sophia, I've done something. I don't know what. I've