When I’m done, I’m about to head back inside and hide in my room when Elise comes sauntering out the back. She doesn’t see me as she heads to the pool. She tosses her things down on a chair—coverup, sunglasses and big floppy hat, phone and several magazines, and dives into the water.
I’m shocked. I’ve never seen her swim, much less get her hair wet. I didn’t think she was capable of being in the water without melting, but she does a graceful freestyle stroke back and forth along the length, doing laps like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I get more coffee and when I come back, I finish the mug watching her swim. After a while, she gets out, towel dries off, wraps her hair, and plops down in the sun.
This is my chance. I walk toward her, coffee between both hands though it’s lukewarm at best. She spots me coming, eyebrows arched.
“Where’d you appear from?” she asks. “Nobody’s awake this early in the morning here.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” I nod at the pool. “Do you usually do laps like that?”
“Never let them see you work,” she says, wagging a finger in the air like it’s good advice. “I find swimming in the morning is good for me. Can’t survive on nothing but wine and good vibes forever, though I’ve tried, trust me.”
“Right.” I sit on the chair beside her. “I realized something not long ago.”
“What’s that?”
“I have absolutely nothing to do. I’m here to marry Casso and I guess have his babies, but otherwise? No purpose at all.”
She laughs lightly. “I’m sure you can come up with something, but really, why bother? What’s the point of a purpose? Everyone else has plenty of purpose. We have comfort.”
“Don’t you get… I don’t know, bored? Antsy? I can’t sit around for very long.”
“Ah, darling, you don’t know me very well. Sitting around is what I do best. I traveled for a while, did the society thing, went to parties and all that. I have famous friends. But I’d ignore them all for a good pool, enough wine to make me happy, and my phone.”
“I’ll go nuts if that’s what Casso thinks I’m going to do.”
“You just need practice.” She leans back and closes her eyes. “Watch and learn. It’s incredible what I can do just sitting here.”
I grin and sit back with her. I place my mug on the ground and try to imagine being here, really being here, day in and day out. I find it impossible: until recently, my life was somewhere else, living in a different culture, speaking a different language. Now I’m American again and I’m struggling to adapt.
“I’m looking for someone,” I say quietly, loud enough for Elise to hear, but softly enough that a strong breeze could blow my words sideways.
“And who exactly is this?”
We don’t look at each other. I stare out at the endless blue sky and whatever’s beyond it.
“A man, someone in the Famiglia. He would’ve been active ten years ago when I lived in Phoenix. He would’ve been a part of the war.”
She peeks at me. “I’m guessing you want to know who killed your brother.”
“Yes,” I say, leaning toward her eagerly.
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t know a thing about their business. I spent most of my marriage to Domiano avoiding him as much as possible. I’m not even sure I was in Phoenix at all during the war, much less around enough to know who did it. I’m really sorry.”
I deflate and squeeze my eyes shut. More tears threaten and I force them away. No, I’m not going to start crying, not so early in the morning and so damn early in the process. Elise is the first person I’ve really asked and the only person in this family I think would tell me if she knew, and it hurts that I don’t have a thing, but I won’t let it deter me.
“Maybe that’s what I’ll do to pass the time. Investigate a murder ten years old by people that might not even be here anymore.”
“Good luck, darling. I really do hope you solve it, but don’t get your hopes up. This family loves secrets almost as much as it loves money and power.”
I shake my head and catch a figure out of the corner of my eye: it’s Fynn standing near the patio. He’s shading his eyes and watching us, and I can’t read his expression. I point him out to Elise and she only shrugs. “He’s a quiet one,” she says and closes her eyes again. “Don’t let it fool you though. There’s a lot going on behind his silence.”
I get up and head over to him. As I approach, Fynn watches with hooded eyes and hands shoved into the pockets of his jogging pants. I realize he’s damp with sweat and must’ve been out for a run recently, before the sun made it impossibly hot. Maybe Elise was wrong about everyone sleeping late.