Worst Fears Realized (Stone Barrington 5)

“Try mademoiselle,” she said, coming into the house, “or better yet, signorina.”

Stone took her packages inside, while she went back to the car. She returned with an armful of flowers and a large vase. “I suspected the place would need brightening,” she said, handing him the vase. “Fill that two-thirds with tepid water.”

Stone did as instructed, and she quickly arranged the flowers and set them on the living-room coffee table. “There; makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does. What’s in the packages?”

“Housewarming gifts,” she replied. “Open.”

Stone opened the packages and found two beautiful oils, a Venetian scene and a landscape he didn’t recognize, with a Roman ruin prominently featured.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her. “Where’s the landscape?”

“Sicily, where else?”

“They’re both wonderful. I’ll get some tools, and you can hang them for me.”

Soon both paintings were displayed to good effect. Stone thought that with the walls no longer entirely bare and the lamps in place, it was looking a good deal more like home.

Dolce walked around the place, looking at details. “I like it,” she said. “It’s very Connecticut, and in some ways, it’s very you.”

“You’ll have to come often,” Stone said.

“I intend to,” she replied. “Will

you get my bag from the car and show me the upstairs?”

Stone went out to the Ferrari and found a surprisingly small bag on the front seat. There was hardly anyplace else to put it in the car. He brought it inside and led her upstairs.

“Oh,” she said, “lots to do here. Nice closet space, though. We’ll have to find you some good wallpaper.” She unpacked her bag and hung up a dress. “That won’t need ironing,” she said.

“Our host says it’s very casual.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dolce laughed. “For men, maybe.”

Stone slipped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“My goodness,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “you’re ready, aren’t you?”

“You betcha.”

She broke away. “Well, you’re just going to have to wait; I have a lot of questions.” She led him downstairs, and when they had settled on the sofa, she began. “All right, now; a girl doesn’t like surprises; who’s the movie star?”

“Vance Calder.”

She nodded as if she had dinner with movie stars every evening. “And his wife is Arrington.”

Stone blinked. “You’re way ahead of me.”

“Get used to it,” she replied.

“Ah, yes, I forgot about Mary Ann.”

“A girl’s best friend is her sister; remember that.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“Now, who are the other guests?”