Worst Fears Realized

slip a dagger between your ribs before you know what’s happening.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    The door opened, and two women entered the room. First, came Mary Ann, and she was followed by a woman so beautiful that Stone was transfixed. It took him a moment to get to his feet.
    Mary Ann came over and planted a kiss on Stone’s cheek. “Hey, baby,” she whispered, then she turned and indicated her companion. “Stone, this is my sister Rosaria; in the family we call her Dolce. Sweetie, this is our friend Stone Barrington.”
    Dolce Bianchi glided across the room and placed her hand in Stone’s. She was half a head taller than Mary Ann and clad in a perfectly cut black dress that accentuated her full breasts and her narrow hips. “Hello, Stone,” she said in a husky voice.
    Stone was nearly unable to speak. “Hello,” he finally managed to mumble. The woman looked like a Sicilian princess, he thought. Her hair fell in black waves to her shoulders, and she wore a single piece of jewelry, a diamond necklace that looked like something out of Harry Winston’s window.
    Before anyone could say anything else, Eduardo Bianchi entered the room. He came in so silently, almost stealthily, that Stone did not at first notice him. When he did, he was being greeted by a tall,handsome man, apparently around fifty years of age, with iron gray hair, white at the temples, and wearing a double-breasted, chalk-striped suit that had never known a wrinkle.
    “How do you do, Mr. Barrington? I am Eduardo Bianchi.” The voice was well modulated, cultured, accentless.
    “How do you do, Mr. Bianchi?” Stone thought that the man could hostMasterpiece Theater .
    “Dino,” Bianchi said, “you may wish to say good night to Ben; he’s in his room.”
    Dino left the room.
    Bianchi signaled for them all to sit. He took his own seat and accepted a Strega from a silver tray held by Pietro.
    Stone was glad of his own choice of the drink, and even more glad that Dino had kept him from taking his host’s usual chair. Bianchi exuded a royal presence, and Stone felt very much on his best behavior.
    “I hope you had a pleasant drive here,” Bianchi said.
    “Yes, indeed,” Stone said. “I was not aware of this part of Brooklyn.”
    “My family has slowly developed this part of Brooklyn over many years,” he replied. “My father wished to have a pleasant neighborhood in which to build a house. Unfortunately, he died before he was able to do so. It was left to me to build this place on land he had reserved.”
    “The house is very beautiful,” Stone said. “You are to be complimented.”

    “Thank you,” Bianchi replied with a small nod. “It is good to have a guest who appreciates it.”
    Stone felt confused. Could this man be the ogre of a father-in-law that Dino had for years disparaged at every opportunity?
    Dino returned silently to the room and sat down.
    “My daughter’s husband has never been susceptible to its charms,” Bianchi said, with regret in his voice. “Dino prefers…Manhattan.” He spoke the word as if the island were a prison colony off the coast of Long Island.
    Dino, uncharacteristically, said nothing.
    Stone and Bianchi chatted amiably for half an hour, while the others merely listened. Finally, Pietro appeared at the door and gave a little bow.
    “Ah, yes,” Bianchi said, rising. “Dinner is served. I believe we are in the small dining room, Pietro?”
    “Yes, sir,” Pietro replied.
    Bianchi led the way to a lovely little room and placed his guests at an antique round table set with Italian silver, English china, and French crystal.
    Stone found himself seated next to the lovely Dolce, who had not said a word since her father had appeared.
    Now she spoke. “I believe that you are in the practice of law, Mr. Barrington.”
    “I am,” Stone replied.
    “Do you specialize?”
    “I specialize in what my clients require,” Stone said.
    “Oh, good,” she breathed. “Lawyers too often forget that they are servants of their clients and not the other way around.”

    “I admit I have known such lawyers,” Stone said.
    “So have I,” Dolce replied.
    Stone, who had been only vaguely aware that Mary Ann had a sister, would have agreed with anything this creature had said.
    Bianchi spoke up. “My younger daughter would not be so familiar with lawyers if she had more often heeded her father’s advice.”
    “Yes, Papa,” Dolce said meekly.
    Stone felt that she was rarely meek. A risotto