the bathroom was to die for. Done in stonelike tile and accented in the same colors as the rest of the suite, it had a glass-enclosed shower and a bathtub with jets. A real tub. She’d had nothing but sponge baths and showers for ages. Her sore muscles and aching bones would love this.
Before she did anything else, she started the water running in the tub and added a bit of lavender scent she found on the ledge. By the time she’d located a change of clothes and her shampoo, the tub had filled. She stripped and climbed in.
Ah, heaven. She could get used to this.
A LOUD BANGING on the door roused Belle.
“You okay in there?” a woman yelled.
It sounded like Suki. Belle noticed that the jets were still running, but the water had grown cool.
“I’m fine,” she called. “Thanks. Just a minute.” She punched off the jets, climbed from the tub and wrapped a persimmon-colored bathsheet around her before she opened the door.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Suki said, “but we was worried about you, you being sick and all.”
“No problem. I couldn’t resist that tub, and I fell asleep.”
“Supper’s in an hour. You want me to bring a tray up to you?”
“Oh, no. I’ll dress and be right down.”
“We don’t fancy up for meals around here except on special occasions. Just put on whatever you’re comfortable in and come on down. We’ll eat on the sunporch at the back of the house. You like tamales?”
“I adore tamales.”
“Good. That’s what we’re having. Maria makes some of the best ones in these parts, and she knows how Gabe loves them. Course Skye’s a vegetarian, and Miz Flora is almost one—she only eats chicken and fish—so they’ll be having something else. I don’t guess you’re a vegetarian?”
“Nope. I like steak too much.”
Suki laughed. “Me, too. And pork chops. And did you ever try to eat chili without any meat in it?”
“Not lately.”
“Let me tell you, it’s not the same with that tofu stuff. Maria—she does most of the cooking—can do wonders with just about anything, but even she can’t perform miracles. You need any help getting dressed?”
“No, I’m fine,” Belle said. “I’ll be down in a shake.”
Suki left and Belle finished drying off and dressed in khakis, loafers and a blue cotton sweater. A shampoo would have to wait. She brushed her hair, wound it and clipped it up, then slapped on a bit of makeup. In ten minutes, she was on her way downstairs.
She followed the sound of voices from the back of the house to a large den with big leather couches and the same eclectic mix of furniture. A fire was burning in the oversized stone fireplace—more for the ambience, Belle suspected, than for warmth.
Gabe, sipping from a drink, stood with his back to the fire. Skye, perched on a couch arm, had a wineglass, as did Flora, who was relaxing in a wing-backed chair. Gus lay at Skye’s feet, Tiger and a cat lay napping together by the fire, and another cat dozed in Flora’s lap.
Gabe noticed her first and smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Absolutely. Sorry I conked out. I couldn’t believe I went to sleep when I slept most of the way here.”
“Don’t apologize,” Skye said. “It’s perfectly natural. Your body is still recovering, and sleep is a great healer.”
“You just make yourself at home, dear, and think of us as family,” Flora said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I’d love one.”
“Gabe?” Flora said.
“Zinfandel?” he asked Belle.
She nodded and went to stand near the space that Gabe left. When he returned with her glass, she said, “I love the fire.”
“Me, too,” Gabe said. “We won’t be able to enjoy it much longer, but while the nights are still cool, we’re using the last of the firewood.”
“Ha!” Skye said. “Don’t let him kid you. My brother’s been known to light a fire and turn on the air-conditioning.”
Gabe grinned. “Guilty.”
“Belle,” Flora said, “Gabe tells us that you’re a spy. I don’t think I’ve ever known a real spy. How very fascinating!”
Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t say that she was a spy. I said that she was an FBI agent.”
“Well, isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not really,” Belle said. “You might be thinking of the CIA.”
“CIA, FBI, SPCA. I get all those initials mixed up.” Flora held out her glass toward Gabe. “May I have just a tad more? Anyhow, I think it’s exciting. What exactly does an agent do?”
Skye looked amused.
“A number of things that involve investigation of federal crimes,” Belle said. “But I’m no longer an agent.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. What do you do now?”
“Nothing at the moment. All the people in my family are in law enforcement, but I’m not interested in pursuing the field anymore. I discovered I wasn’t cut out for chasing bad guys. I want to explore other areas and find something that suits me better.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Flora said. “I adore new beginnings. They’re so exciting. I’ve made several of them myself. Mostly with husbands. I’ve had three, you know.”
“No,” Belle said, “I didn’t know.”
“Yes, indeed. I’ll tell you all about it some morning over coffee. Or while you’re sitting for me.”
“Sitting for you?”
“For your portrait.”
Skye chuckled. “Mother paints everybody’s portrait who’ll sit still long enough. She’s quite good.”
“I do soul paintings,” Flora said. “I find them very insightful.”
“Soul paintings?”
“Don’t ask,” Gabe said.
“Now, children, don’t make our guest nervous. Belle, is your room comfortable?”
“Very much so. It’s beautifully decorated, as is the rest of the house.”
“Lisa did it,” Skye said. “Your suite was her last project before she flew the coop.”
“Lisa?”
“Gabriel’s
