“Oh, I’m going to get the desert from the fridge,” Sheila said. “Libby, would you like to help me?”
Libby stood up. “Sure.”
I watched as Libby winced slightly putting weight on her ankle. I wasn’t sure how much it really hurt. Libby was so tough that she never complained about things.
I locked eyes with her as she followed Sheila into the cabin.
I was now alone there with Bernie. For some reason I felt really unsure about the Robertsons. There was just something unsettling about the two of them. I decided then and there that it was best if we didn’t get too close to them.
CHAPTER 28
Libby
“I’m sorry about Bernie,” Sheila said. “He gets a bit strange when he’s been drinking. He doesn’t usually drink that much unless he has someone to drink with. But he’s harmless, just the life of the party really.”
“I can see that,” I said. “He is a sweetheart. I was so glad that he found me today. I wasn’t sure how long it might have taken Mason. I was kind of off the beaten path.”
“Oh, yeah. Bernie told me all about your nasty fall. That sounded awful.”
“It could have been way worse,” I said. “I should have been paying more attention.”
“Those trails can be treacherous if you don’t know them well,” Sheila said. “But my family has been coming up here since I was a little girl.”
“That’s sweet,” I said. “My family used to do something similar in Colorado.”
“Wow, I love Colorado. These are not mountains; Colorado—those are mountains.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’ll agree.”
Sheila grabbed a large French Silk pie out of the fridge. It looked amazing.
“Wow,” I said. “That looks like a nice sugar coma waiting for me.”
“Oh, you know it! I’m actually very glad you guys are here to help us eat it, otherwise Bernie would probably consume the whole thing in like two sittings. The man is a bottomless pit.”
“Wow, if I ate like that I would be the size of a house,” I giggled.
“Yeah, he is one of those blessed individuals,” she said. “Though truthfully, I think he will end up fat like his dad. He swears he used to be able to eat the same way. So, yeah I have that to look forward to in ten years. But I love him anyway.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s important in a marriage.”
“Yeah. Plus, my family is Italian. So, you know that great food is always going to be everywhere.”
“I’ll have to come to more of your gatherings,” I said.
“You are always welcome,” Sheila said. “The more, the merrier.”
“Do you normally have those at your house, or is it like I always hear where you have those big Italian gatherings at the patriarch’s house?”
Sheila set the pie on the counter and grabbed some plates. She began to slice the pie into several slices.
“Oh, yes. Our family is very traditional. We all gather over at daddy’s for every holiday and probably at least once a month, sometimes more if we can work it around everyone’s schedules. Yeah, us Scarlucci’ are a tight clan. Bernie is still only kind of a Scarlucci, but daddy loves him so he is more or less a full-fledged member.”
Scarlucci?
My heart froze in my chest. I tried to act natural, but my head felt like it was sliding off my body onto the floor. I wanted to faint. My whole system was reacting to the horrifying news I’d just heard. Scarlucci… Sheila was a Scarlucci…
She was one of them? It had to be a coincidence, right? It couldn’t be the same family… the one that wanted me dead. What were the odds? Unless they were playing with me and they knew instantly who I was. Was this all some type of setup or a scam?
No, that didn’t make sense. They’d had every possible opportunity to kill us all. Why would they go through this elaborate charade?
“Is that slice big enough?” Sheila asked.
I almost didn’t register her question in my ears. I licked my lips trying to calm myself down. My legs were trembling, toying with my ankle, threatening to throw my whole body to the ground. I placed a hand on the counter for balance, trying to be natural.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “That’s fine. I’m not that hungry, but I’ll eat as much as I can.”
“Great. That’s the spirit. Here you are,” Sheila said.
We made our way back out to the patio where Sheila served Mason, Bernie, and Toby their pies.
While we ate Bernie kept us all entertained by talking about his picks for this year’s basketball championships. He was a lifelong Laker fan, but he just didn’t know if they had what it took this year.
As he rambled I looked over at Mason, trying to get his attention with my eyes, but he seemed really into his pie and listening to what Bernie had to say about basketball. I had never known Mason to even follow basketball. It was just as well; I certainly didn’t want to tip off Mason here about the Robertsons. So it was just better if we continued to play along with the charade for the rest of the evening.