her sons. Only three of them had actually been born to her, but, if challenged, the other two would have fiercely claimed her as their mother.
They were the best-looking men there: all in their prime, all strolling about with grace and unconscious arrogance. They were Rinuccis, even those who did not bear the name.
Throughout the evening Hope moved among her guests, receiving gifts and tributes with great charm, an undisputed queen among her admirers.
Not all the guests would have called themselves admirers. For each one who spoke of charm and generosity another could tell of ruthlessness. Yet even her enemies had not spurned her invitation.
The enemies were easy to spot, as Luke remarked wryly to Primo. They brought the most lavish gifts, showered her with the greatest praise and lingered the longest to say what a wonderful evening it had been.
But finally the last one departed, the staff had cleared the tables on the terrace and the family were free to relax with their various choice of nightcap.
‘That’s better,’ Primo said, pouring himself a whisky. ‘Shall I bring you something, Mamma? Mamma?’
She was looking out over the sea, and although her fingers touched the diamonds about her neck it was clear that she was oblivious to her surroundings.
‘Couldn’t she have forgotten him even today?’ Primo sighed.
‘Less today than at any other time,’ Luke said. ‘Don’t forget that this was his birthday too.’
‘Why can her five sons not be enough for her?’ Carlo asked with a touch of wistfulness.
‘Because she does not have five sons,’ Toni said quietly. ‘She has six, and even now she grieves for the one who was lost. She believes with all her heart that one day she will find him again.’
‘Do you believe she’ll get her wish?’ Ruggiero asked.
Toni sighed helplessly. He had no answer.
Chapter One
‘OK, FOLKS, that’s it.’
The bell for the end of school sounded as Evie finished talking. Fifteen twelve-year-olds did a more or less controlled scramble, and in seconds the classroom was empty.
Evie rubbed her neck and stretched it a little to relieve the tension.
‘Hard week?’ asked a voice from the door. It was Debra, Deputy Head of the school, and the friend who’d asked her to help out for a term.
‘Yup,’ she replied. ‘Mind you, I’m not complaining. They’re good kids.’
‘Do you have time for a drink?’
‘Lead me to it.’
Later, as they sat on a pleasant terrace by the river, feeding scraps to the swans, Debra said in a carefully casual voice, ‘You really like those youngsters, don’t you?’
‘Mm, some of them are smart, especially Mark Dane. He’s got a true feel for languages. By the way, I didn’t see him today.’
Debra groaned. ‘That means he slipped away again. His truancy is getting serious.’
‘Have you told his parents?’
‘I’ve spoken to his father, who said very grimly that he’d ‘deal with it’.’
Evie made a face. ‘I don’t like the sound of him.’
‘No, I didn’t take to him either. Too much assurance. I gather he’s a big man in industry, built it up himself, finger on a dozen pulses, everything under control.’
‘And that includes his son?’ Evie said sympathetically.
‘I think it includes everything—you, me, Mark—’
‘And the little mouse in the corner,’ Evie said whimsically.
‘Justin Dane wouldn’t have a mouse,’ Debra said at once. ‘He’d hire a tiger to catch it. But enough of him.’ She took a deep breath and said with an air of someone taking the plunge, ‘Look, Evie, I had an ulterior motive in asking you out.’
‘I was afraid you might,’ Evie murmured. ‘But don’t spoil the moment. Seize it. Relish it.’
She leaned back on the wooden seat, one elegantly booted ankle crossed over the other knee. Her eyes were closed and she threw her head back, letting the late afternoon sun play on her face, where there was a blissful smile. With her boots and jeans, her slim figure and dark cropped hair, she might have been a boy. Or an urchin. Or anything but a twenty-nine-year-old schoolteacher.
‘Evie,’ Debra tried again in the special patient voice she kept for coping with her wayward friend.
‘Skip it, Deb. I know what you’re going to say, and I’m afraid the answer’s no. One term I promised, because that’s all I can do. It’ll be over soon and then you won’t see me for dust.’
‘But the Head’s knocked out by the way you’ve clicked with the pupils. He really wants you to stay.’
‘Nope. I just filled in while the language teacher had her baby. She’s had him now, a bonny, bouncing boy, which means it’s time for me to go bouncing off into the sunset.’
‘But she doesn’t really want to return, and I have strict instructions to persuade you to stay on, full time.’
Evie’s response to this was to back away along the bench with an alarmed little cry, like somebody fending off an evil spirit.
‘What’s up with you?’ Debra demanded.
‘You said the fatal words,’ Evie accused her, wild-eyed.
‘What fatal words?’
‘Full time.’
‘Stop fooling around,’ Debra said, trying not to laugh.
Evie resumed her normal manner. ‘I never do anything full time, you know that. I need change and variety.’
‘But you said you like teaching.’
‘I do—in small doses.’
‘Yes, that’s the story of your life, isn’t it? Everything in small doses. A job here, a job there.’
Evie gave a grin that was wicked and delightful in equal measure.
‘You mean I’m immature, don’t you? At my age I ought to be ready to settle down to a nine-to-five job, one offspring and two-point-five husbands.’
‘I think you mean that the other way around.’
‘Do I? Well, whatever. The point is, you think I should be heading for a settled life, suitable for a woman approaching the big ‘‘three’’. Well, nuts to it! I live the way I want. Why can’t people
