“Castelalto?” said Elena, not recognizing the name. She called to Agnella to ask if she had ever heard of the place.

“Sta in montagna,” came the curt response. It was in the mountains.

Elena gave a shrug, as if to say it did not matter, and clapped her hands together.

“So, Carter, my friend,” she said eagerly. “We must go to dinner tonight and celebrate that you come here, yes?”

Could Carter have possibly said no?

Another whirlwind.

Elena jumping up, taking his hand.

Plans being made.

Being led to the door.

Agreeing to meet her in front of the hotel at seven.

Elena brushing her cheek against his once more, squeezing his hand, telling him that he had made her very happy by coming.

Abruptly finding himself outside once more on the front step, the door closed behind him.

Carter gave a contented sigh and began to walk back to the hotel, not caring at all that Elena had not thought to offer him a ride. What did it matter, he laughed inside. He felt lighter than air and could have drifted the whole way on a breeze. Besides, he had two strong legs to carry him, and it was all downhill from there.

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 36

Seven twenty-five.

Elena had yet to show, and Carter was pacing like a caged beast back and forth along the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Cars were zipping up and down the main street through town, and over on the piazza people were strolling about or sitting on the benches, enjoying the warm, pleasant evening. Like Friday nights everywhere, a feeling of lighthearted relaxation prevailed, and the air was full of talk and laughter.

Seven thirty-two.

Carter could barely stand the waiting. He was growing anxious and, truth be told, a little hungry. Everything had happened so fast when he left Elena’s house, and he wondered if perhaps somehow they had gotten their plans crossed. He was certain she had said she would meet him at seven in front of the hotel, but could he have misunderstood? Was she expecting instead for him to return to her house at seven? Was she there now, waiting for him?

Seven fifty-three.

Still no sign of Elena. Carter walked back inside to the front desk to ask if anyone had called and left a message for him.

No word.

He was wondering what to do next, if perhaps he should find her number in the telephone book and try calling the house, when he chanced to look out the window and saw, to his relief, Elena’s car pull up to the curb outside the hotel.

“Finalmente,” he muttered, and he started toward the door.

Elena had already stepped out of the car by the time Carter emerged from the hotel entrance. Any pique he might have felt at having been made to wait so long vanished the instant he laid eyes on her.