His heart thudded heavy in his chest as he sat on the edge of the bare mattress. He put a hand in the place where Astrid lay naked just a few minutes before, looking for the warmth from her body.

A Flair For the Dramatic

The flaw in the plan, which not even Minor saw coming, was the romantic idealism of two ten-year-old girls. That Trudy and Kirsten wouldn’t entertain the idea of Astrid and Kennet’s romance being a secret was so obvious, nobody thought of it. And in the space of time it took for Johnny and Major to squire Astrid back to Clayton, Liisa knew in gushing, swooning detail how her daughter had fallen in love with the son of the hotel proprietor.

By the time Kennet returned, dirty and sweaty, Astrid had been yanked out of the Fiskares’ house and into a room at the hotel.

“Oh Nycky, this is not good,” Minor said, not an ounce of teasing in his tone. He was pale. “It was an ugly scene. Astrid’s mother…Mrs…”

“Virtanen.”

“Whatever the hell her name is, she lit into Astrid like nobody’s business. Marta tried to intervene, soothe things down, and Mrs. Virtanen slapped her.”

“What?” Kennet’s hands went to fists.

“Paps is furious.”

But Kennet was already walking away, looking for Marta. He found her in the kitchen, chopping onions. No doubt using them as an excuse to explain her swollen eyes.

“Marta, are you all right?”

She didn’t answer. He put his hand on her arm but she just shook her head, still chopping.

He took the knife away and turned her toward him, pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders. He’d never done such a thing. But she shivered in the embrace and wept on his dirty shirt front.

“I’m sorry,” he said, patting her back. “I’m sorry this happened. This is all my fault, but—”

“How can it be your fault?”

“—I’m going to fix everything.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m going to take care of this.”

“God, Kennet, please don’t make a scene.”

“This woman barges unannounced into your house, starts berating your cousin, who is our guest, and then she slaps you for no good goddamn reason and you’re telling me not to make a scene? The scene’s been made. This show is going on.”

“I mean don’t make a scene in front of the… You know what I mean.”

“I promise, I will be a gentleman,” Kennet said, letting go of her. “But hell if I’ll be a doormat.”

“You look like a doormat,” Minor said, appearing in the kitchen. “Did you leave any dirt on the island?”

“It was part of the alibi, remember?”

“Well, you’re not going into war looking like that. Upstairs. Move.”