bit back the indignant retort that sprang to her lips. It was no use falling out with Ashley’s mother. She was upset, and who could blame her? Her daughter had gone missing and she was over a thousand miles away.
‘I suppose I assumed she’d keep in touch,’ she said at last, deciding she didn’t deserve to shoulder all the blame. ‘And I did speak to her a few days ago.’
Andrea snorted. ‘You didn’t tell me that yesterday.’
Tess sighed. ‘I forgot.’
‘Or you kept it from me, just to worry me,’ Ashley’s mother said accusingly. ‘Didn’t you ask her where she was?’
No. Why should she? But Tess kept that question to herself.
‘I never thought of it,’ she said, which was true enough. ‘Anyway, she’ll be in touch again, I know, when she finds the time.’
‘Well, I think it’s a very unsatisfactory state of affairs,’ declared Andrea tersely. ‘And if it wasn’t for this customer of Ashley’s wanting to speak to her, I’d have heard nothing about it.’
Nor would she, thought Tess ruefully. But that was another story.
There was an awkward silence then, and before Tess could think of anything to fill it Ashley’s mother spoke again. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m getting the distinct impression that you know more about this than you’re letting on. And if Ashley was forced to ask you to stand in for her, she must have been desperate.’
Gee, thanks!
Tess refused to respond to that and Andrea continued doggedly, ‘Well, all I can do is leave it with you for the present. But if you haven’t heard from her by the end of the week, I intend to come out to Italy and see what’s going on for myself.’
Tess stifled an inward groan. ‘That’s your decision, of course.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Andrea had obviously expected an argument and Tess’s answer had left her with little more to say. ‘All right, then. So, the minute you hear from Ashley, you’ll ring me? You promise?’
‘Of course.’
Somehow Tess got off the phone without telling the other woman exactly what she really thought of Ashley’s behaviour. And then, after hanging up, she spent several minutes staring gloomily into space. She no longer felt like closing the gallery early and spending the rest of the day on the beach. This so-called holiday had suddenly become a trial of innocence and she was the accused.
It wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t her fault Ashley had disappeared; it wasn’t her fault that she had taken Castelli’s son with her. So why was she beginning to feel that it was?
SOMEHOW Tess got through the rest of the day. For once, she had several would-be customers in the gallery, and she spent some time talking to a couple from Manchester, England, who were visiting Italy for the first time.
Nevertheless, she was enormously relieved when it was time to close up. She returned to the apartment and another lonely evening feeling as if she were the only person in Porto San Michele who wasn’t having any fun.
The next morning she felt marginally brighter. She’d slept reasonably well and, refusing to consider what would happen if Ashley didn’t turn up, she dressed in pink cotton shorts and a sleeveless top that exposed her belly button. Why should she care what anyone thought of her appearance? she thought, slipping her feet into sandals that strapped around her ankle. This was her holiday and she meant to enjoy it.
With this in mind, she decided to give the car a miss this morning. A walk down to the gallery would enable her to pick up a warm, custard-filled pastry at the bakery, and the exercise would do her good. Italian food was delicious, but it was also very rich.
It was another beautiful morning. Outside the sun was shining, which couldn’t help but make her feel optimistic. Whatever else Ashley had done, she had introduced her to this almost untouched corner of Tuscany, and she had to remember that.
Several people called a greeting as she made her way down the steep slope into town. She didn’t always understand what they said, but she usually managed an adequate response. Her Italian was improving in leaps and bounds, and before all this business with Ashley had erupted she’d been happily planning a return to the country, maybe taking in Florence and Venice next time.
The pastry she’d bought at the small pasticceria was oozing custard onto her fingers as she let herself into the gallery. The alarm started its usual whine and she hurried to deactivate it before opening up the office and setting her backpack down on the desk. Then, before she had time to fill the coffee-pot, the telephone rang again.
Dammit, she thought, she couldn’t get through the door before someone wanted to speak to her. Depositing the sticky pastry onto the notepad beside the phone, she picked up the receiver. ‘Medici Galleria,’ she said, expecting the worst.
‘Miss Daniels?’
Tess swallowed. She would have recognised his distinctive voice anywhere. ‘Signor di Castelli,’ she said politely. ‘What can I do for you?’ Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Have you heard from your son?’
‘Ah, no.’ His sigh was audible. ‘I gather you have not heard from your sister either.’
‘No.’ Tess’s excitement subsided. ‘Nor has her mother.’
‘I see.’ He paused. ‘You have heard from her?’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard from Andrea.’
Tess couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice and Castelli picked up on it. ‘You sound depressed, cara,’ he murmured sympathetically. ‘Ashley’s mother—she blames you, sí?’
‘How did you know?’ said Tess ruefully. ‘Yes, she blames me. I should have asked Ashley where she was going when I spoke to her before I left England.’
‘But you thought she was going to visit with her mama, no?’
‘Andrea doesn’t see it that way. In any case, I couldn’t tell her what Ashley had told me.’
‘Povero Tess,’ he said gently. ‘This has not been easy for you.’
‘No.’ Tess felt a momentary twinge of self-pity. ‘So—’ she tried to be practical ‘—was that the only reason you rang? To ask whether I’d heard from Ashley?’
‘Among other things,’ he said, rather enigmatically. Then, without explaining what he meant, ‘Ci vediamo, cara,’ and he rang off.
Tess replaced the receiver with a feeling of defeat. So much for his sympathy, she thought gloomily. For a moment there, she’d thought he was going to offer some other alternative to her dilemma, but like Andrea he had no easy solutions. And, unlike Andrea, he had more important things to concern him than her situation, even if the two things were linked.
The pastry had oozed all over the notepad and she regarded it resignedly. So much for
