Rina’s brow furrowed. Her sister could be erratic but she’d always been very particular about food safety after a serious bout of food poisoning when they were first flatting together in their late teens. It wasn’t like Sara not to clean out perishables before going somewhere—she was a stickler for observing expiry dates. This whole situation just got more and more confusing. Had Sara first gone to France in a bit of a rush, expecting to return sooner than today? But then why would she have gone back again? Just trying to make sense of it was making Rina’s head hurt.
Another rumble from the pit of her belly reminded her it had been a good eight or more hours since her last meal. As slender as she was, Rina had a high metabolism and usually ate regularly.
She grabbed the eggs and the best of all the vegetables from the fridge and whipped up a frittata for her supper. Tomorrow she’d have to find some way of gathering more groceries to replenish Sara’s supply—especially if there would be the two of them here soon.
Rina had not long finished her meal and had cleaned up her dishes when she heard a car approach on the road to the cottage. She had the door open as the now familiar Ferrari pulled to a stop outside.
Her heart hammered in her chest as Reynard unfolded from the driver’s seat and walked through the gate. The suit coat was gone, as well as the immaculately knotted rich burgundy silk tie he’d worn earlier in the day. With his face cast in relief by the setting sun, she couldn’t make out his expression but weariness and dejection pulled at every line of his body. Each step was slow and deliberate. Rina felt unexpected tears prick at her eyes. Clearly the news about his brother was not good.
“Benedict? Is he going to be okay?” she asked softly as he reached the front porch.
“He’s made it through surgery and he’s in intensive care. Only one of us is allowed in at a time, and only for short periods. Alex and Loren will stay at the hospital tonight and I’ll head in first thing in the morning.”
His voice was flat, as if he couldn’t believe the day his family had endured. Instantly, the urge to provide comfort flooded through Rina’s veins. She opened her arms to him as he entered the cottage and without hesitation he clasped her to him.
He was lean muscle from top to toe, and fraught with a tension that held his body tight like a bow.
“He’ll be all right, Rey,” she murmured into the broad warmth of his shoulder.
“They’ve done everything they can—now it’s up to him.”
His voice was a guttural whisper. Rina was rocked by the strength of emotion she felt pouring from him. The three brothers had to be close, judging by how distraught he was. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were all going through. She struggled to find the words that might provide him with some comfort.
“He’s young and he’s strong, and with you and Alex there for him, he’ll pull through.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.”
Rina closed her eyes against the building moisture there. The fear in Rey’s voice struck her to her core. She knew if it was Sara there in the ICU, she’d be frantic with worry herself. Slowly she edged from his embrace and pulled away to close the front door.
“Come in, I’ll make you a warm drink—unless you’d like something stronger?”
“No, coffee will be fine. I want to have my wits about me should Alex call.”
Rina nodded and went through to the kitchen and busied herself measuring coffee for the old-fashioned stovetop percolator she’d found in a cupboard earlier in the evening. She sent a silent prayer of thanks skyward that Sara had thought to include in her letter that Reynard took his coffee black and sweet. In her peripheral vision she saw Rey drop into one of the fabric covered sofas, his tall frame all but dwarfing the feminine piece of furniture. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing at his eyes with long, tanned fingers.
Once the coffee had percolated, she poured it into a mug and placed it, a spoon and a sugar bowl on a small tray and carried it to Rey.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the mug off the tray and dropping two cubes of sugar into the steaming liquid and stirred—the clink of the spoon against the ceramic mug loud in the quiet of the room.