I assumed Grandes had paid her a visit before he died.
“I want you to know that I didn’t believe a word of what he told me,” said Isabella. “Let me call—”
“I don’t have much time, Isabella.”
She looked at me, crestfallen.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
I nodded. Isabella gulped nervously.
“I told you I don’t like farewells.”
“I like them even less. That’s why I haven’t come to say good-bye. I’ve come to return a couple of things that don’t belong to me.”
I pulled out the copy of The Steps of Heaven and handed it to her.
“This should never have left the glass case containing Señor Sempere’s personal collection.”
Isabella took it and when she saw the bullet still trapped in its pages she looked at me in silence. I pulled out the white envelope that held the fifteen thousand pesetas with which old Vidal had tried to buy my death and left it on the counter.
“And this goes toward all the books that Sempere gave me over the years.”
Isabella opened it and counted the money in astonishment.
“I don’t know whether I can accept it …”
“Consider it my wedding present
, in advance.”
“And there was I, still hoping you’d lead me to the altar one day, even if only to give me away.”
“Nothing would have pleased me more.”
“But you have to go.”
“Yes.”
“Forever.”
“For a while.”
“What if I come with you?”
I kissed her on the forehead, then hugged her.
“Wherever I go, you’ll always be with me, Isabella. Always.”
“I have no intention of missing you.”
“I know.”
“Can I at least come with you to the train or whatever?”
I hesitated too long to refuse those last few minutes of her company.
“To make sure you’re really going and I’ve finally got rid of you,” she added.