Olivia gave a nod. “I think I’ve just seen the gates of hell.”
“Come on,” Elise said. “Race you across the bridge.”
Olivia started to follow, but on impulse, she tossed her pretty blue and white satin bra through the trees. Naked, clothes over her arm, she ran after Elise, across the bridge, then took a sharp left over a shallow part of water that lapped about their bare ankles.
At the tall stone wall, Elise hesitated, unsure of how to get over. Olivia came up behind her and began throwing clothes over. The stump she’d used so many years ago was gone, but a thick tree branch hung down low and ended on the other side of the wall. Olivia jumped up, caught it, swung herself up, then looked down at Elise on the ground.
Bits of sun sparkled on their bare bodies.
“Come on.” Leaning down, Olivia stretched out her arm to Elise. “Don’t back out now.”
Elise grabbed Olivia’s arm in a grip so secure that it felt as though she’d rehearsed it, then propelled herself upward. The two women scooted across the branch.
Olivia groaned. “I do not want my gynecologist to see what I’ve just done to my nether regions.”
“A gyno would be the only one to see my injuries.”
“I don’t know. Ray seems to like you.”
“Bad Olivia!” Elise said as she came to the end of the branch and dropped down beside the older woman.
As soon as they were on the ground, they began running, body parts bouncing. In spite of their age difference, both of them were tall and thin, and as pretty as wood sprites.
Abruptly, Olivia grabbed Elise’s arm and stopped her. Silently, she pointed. Houses had been built on the land since she and Kit had run across there.
With muffled giggles, they pulled on their clothes and, braless, they started to walk around the old stone wall to the entry gate.
“It’s getting late and I’m hungry,” Elise said. “Do you think part of Ray’s gang membership was to be able to make a tuna casserole?”
Olivia let out a snort of laughter. “You saw that in him too? That’s exactly how I saw him. I told Kit I bet that on what looks to be a very fine body he has one or more gang tattoos.”
“And what did your husband say?”
“That he hoped I didn’t go searching for them.”
Elise laughed. “I love a man with a sense of humor.”
“Let’s see... You want passion and humor. What else?”
“Are men capable of more than two good traits?”
“Oooooh,” Olivia said. “So cynical at such a young age.”
“I have my father and my husband as role models. According to them, what makes a man is how much money he has.”
“I understand that. In that case, my late husband was powerful. He had all the money I could provide.”
“Now who’s being cynical?”
“Truthful, my dear. I’m just being truthful.”
“Anyway, when it comes to Ray, I’m allowed to say anything I want. He looks at me like I’m some brainless rich girl who’s never had a problem.”
“Then change his mind,” Olivia said.
They had reached the main gate to the Camden Hall estate. To the left was Young Pete’s small house and to their right was a three-story stone tower. Decades ago, the neighborhood kids had named it Pete’s Spy Tower. Three generations of the family had watched through the open porch on the top, and it did resemble a prison guard’s eyrie.
When Elise and Olivia stepped onto the property, Young Pete was standing there. His long, unsmiling face was wrinkled from a lifetime of being outside in all weather. His blue eyes were watery, but it was said that he could see a fly at a hundred yards.