The Villa

Giambelli." Maguire touched her arm. "Why don't you come sit down, let me get you some coffee."
    "I don't want any coffee. Will you tell me if there's any progress in your investigation?"
    "We have nothing new to tell you. I'm sorry."
    "When will my father's body be released?"
    "Your father's remains are being released this morning, to his next of kin."
    "I see. I've wasted my time, and yours. Excuse me." She walked out and was already yanking her phone from her purse. She tried Helen Moore first, only to be told the judge was on the bench and unavailable.
    "You think she can stop Rene?"
    "I don't know. I have to try." She called James Moore's office next, frustrated to be told he was in a meeting. As a last ditch, she asked for Linc.
    "Linc? It's Sophia. I need help."
     
    Pilar sat on a stone bench in the garden. It was cold, but God, she needed the air. She felt trapped in the house in a way she never had before. Trapped by the walls and the windows, guarded by the people who loved her best.
    Watched, she thought, as carefully as an invalid who might pass at any moment.
    They thought she was grieving, and she let them think it. Was that the bigger of her sins? she wondered. To allow everyone to believe she was devastated by grief.
    When she felt nothing. Could feel nothing.
    Unless it was, horribly, the slightest twinge of relief.
    There had been shock and sorrow and grief, but it had all passed so quickly. And her lack of feeling shamed her, so much so, she'd avoided her family as much as possible. So much so, she'd spent nearly the whole of Christmas in her rooms, unable to comfort her child for fear the child would see her mother's falseness.
    How could a woman go from loving to not loving to callousness so quickly? Pilar wondered. Had the lack of passion and compassion been in her all along? And had that lack been what had sent Tony away from her? Or had what he'd done so carelessly throughout their marriage killed whatever capacity she'd had to feel?
    It hardly mattered. He was dead, and she was empty.
    She got to her feet, turned toward the house, then stopped when she saw David on the path.
    "I didn't want to disturb you."
    "That's all right."
    "I've been trying to keep out of your way."
    "That wasn't necessary."
    "I thought it was. You look tired, Pilar." And lonely, he thought.
    "I suppose we all are. I know you've pulled a lot of extra duty these past few days. I hope you know how much it's appreciated." She nearly stepped back when he walked toward her, but made herself hold still. "How was your Christmas?"
    "It was busy. Let's just say I'll be glad when January rolls around and the kids start school. Is there anything I can do for you?"
    "No, nothing, really." She intended to excuse herself, escape to her rooms. Again. But there was something about him. And looking at him, she heard words pouring out of her mouth. "I'm so useless here, David. I can't help Sophia. I know she's trying to take her mind off everything with work, and spending so much time trying to train me in the office here. I just bungle everything."
    "That's a foolish thing to say."
    "It's not. I do. I never really worked in an office, and the short time I did was over twenty-five years ago. Everything's changed. I can't make the damn computer work, and I don't know the language, even the purpose half the time. Instead of rapping my knuckles over my mistakes as she should, she's patting my head because she doesn't want to upset me. And she's the one who's upset, and I can't help her."
    She pressed her fingers to her temple. "So I run away. I'm so goddamn good at running away. I'm out here right now so that I don't have to face her. She's making herself sick over Tony, trying to stop Rene from claiming his body. She can't grieve, won't let herself. There's no closure, and won't be any until the police… But she needs this rite, this ritual, and Rene won't have it."
    "She needs to deal with it in her own way. You know that. Just as you need to deal with it in yours."
    "I don't know what mine is. I should go in. I have to find the right words."
    Unwilling to leave her alone, David walked with her toward the house. "Pilar, do you think Sophia doesn't know what she means to you?"
    "She knows. Just as she knows what she didn't mean to her father. It's difficult for a child to live with that."
    "I know it. But they do."
    She stopped on the side terrace, turned to him. "Are you ever afraid you're not enough for them?"
    "Every day."
    She let