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Island of Last Resorts

By Mary Ellis

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CHAPTER ONE of Island of Last Resorts
Charleston, South Carolina

Kate Weller shifted her load of boxes to her other arm, held the screen door open with her backside, and turned the knob. When the door swung wide, she thought she might be able to move into the upstairs apartment without a major commotion. No such luck.
“A little bird told me you were coming back.” The squeaky voice emanating from the shadows belonged to a white-haired, wren-sized woman, clad in a cotton dress and white apron, who stepped into Kate’s path.
“Would that ‘little bird’ be your grandson, Eric?” Kate smiled at the ridiculousness of calling someone six-foot-three as little.
“It would.” Angelica Donatella Manfredi, better known as Nonni, crossed her arms over her chest.
Kate shifted the heavy load of books, CDs, and work paraphernalia to her other arm. “Would my moving back be okay with you? If I remember correctly, you really liked me and wanted Eric to marry me.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
“True, but that was before you set my kitchen on fire, blew up my grandson’s car, and then vanished in the dead of night.” Nonni’s brows knitted together above the bridge of her nose.
“It was morning when I moved out, and the fire and car bomb weren’t exactly my fault. May I please set my boxes on the counter?”
“Not until you answer a few questions.” Nonni stepped closer and peered up. “Do you have honest intentions toward my Enrique?”
“You bet I do.”
“Do you promise not to cook without a fire extinguisher handy?”
“I promise,” Kate held up her right hand as the boxes began to slip.
“Then put down your junk and give me a hug.” Nonni stretched out both arms.
Kate reached across her heap of boxes and hugged the matriarch of the clan. Donatella and her husband had emigrated from Sicily to South Carolina and opened a small trattoria on the first floor of their home. Now the Manfredi family owned one of the most successful upscale restaurants in Charleston, one that was favorably reviewed in every travel guide. “I missed you, Nonni.”
“And I, you.” The woman hugged with a fierceness that belied her small stature. “Go upstairs and rest. Eric didn’t like the so-called fresh seafood that they delivered.” Nonni’s nose crinkled as she winced. “He went to the market to select his own fresh catch of the day. I’ll have the busboys unpack your car and carry up these boxes.” Nonni’s face had flushed and her eyes were moist when she finally released the hug.
Kate knew better than to argue with her about anything. She kissed the top of the octogenarian’s head, grabbed her tote bag, and climbed the steep staircase. When she opened the door of the suite reserved for out-of-town relatives, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, despite having lived here only a few months. Her refrigerator would be fully-stocked au gratis; her bed linens would be Egyptian cotton, and the quilt handmade. As the only non-relative ever to rent the room, Nonni Manfredi had made her feel like a family member. Yet she had held Eric at arm’s length so many times she’d almost ruined any chance of a relationship. Without a doubt, he was the best thing that ever happened to her.
Since packing and moving from Pensacola, Florida to Charleston had left her out-of-touch with her boss and co-workers for several days, Kate unpacked her laptop and signed into Bella Trattoria’s Wi-Fi. Among the emails, a subject line of Where are you, all in caps and followed by several exclamation points caught her immediate attention. Kate clicked on the email from her boss, Nate Price, wherein he repeated his question a second time: Where are you? You still haven’t responded to the notice about our company’s retreat. Then Nate had cut and pasted an invitation from a previous email: One week, all-expense paid getaway—casual attire, championship golf, shopping, hiking, swimming in either heated pool or Atlantic ocean, bird-watching—you name it! Employee, plus spouse or significant other. Yes, you will be paid for your time out of the field. Please tell me yes or no within the next few days, because we’ll be convening on St. Simon’s Island in Georgia in one week.
Then Nate added at the bottom of the email: You must have gotten back to Charleston by now. Are you and Eric coming on the retreat? St. Simons Island is only a couple hours away and you don’t have a case right now! Then her boss had added an emoji of a skull and crossbones.
Kate experienced several different emotions: Fear, because the newest PI in the company had just annoyed the boss; Joy, because a week’s vacation sounded fabulous; and hope, because Eric might decide unequivocally that he wanted to be a PI. Not taking a chance with an email going unread for days, Kate punched in the boss’s number.
Nate Price picked up immediately, “Good grief, Weller, I was starting to worry about you.”
“I’m fine, but I had to make a few stops between the Gulf and the city of Charleston. I’m unpacking and settling into my old suite right now. Oh, I saw the invite. The retreat sounds wonderful. Thanks for Eric too.”
“Does that mean you’re coming?” he asked.
Kate heard a baby crying in the background and remembered Nate and his wife had a two-year old. “I am, for sure, but I don’t know about Eric. He just got back to work. His family might not want him leaving again so soon. Bella Trattoria is super busy this time of year.”
“I understand, but this is the only time Nicki can get a babysitter for a full week and Izzy can take time off too. Plus, there’s a surprise waiting for everyone who shows up on St. Simons.” He imbued the words with tantalizing significance. “Try to talk Eric into it. Even if you have to promise his family you’ll work in the restaurant too when you get back.”
“That might not do the trick. The Manfredis know I can’t cook.” She laughed. “You can expect me for sure in three days and I’ll do my best with Eric.”
“Sounds good. We’ll be staying at my friend’s condo on St. Simons Island while he’s in Europe. It’s a really nice place. I’ll text you John’s address to punch into GPS. Be prepared for anything in terms of weather. Bring sturdy shoes, rain gear, sunblock and jungle strength bug spray, besides all your beach gear.”
“What is your surprise—a private jet to the Amazon rainforest with a stopover in Rio?” she asked.
“Even better than that because you won’t need your passport or typhoid fever shots. Make sure you check email during the next couple days in case I give you more info. I’m telling you, Weller, this will be the trip of a lifetime. So work your magic with your ‘significant other.’”
When Nate hung up, Kate ran to the window that overlooked the employee parking lot. No black Ford Expedition. Eric hadn’t returned, so she unpacked her boxes and one suitcase until wheels crunched the gravel below her window. Then she bolted down the stairs to work her magic. This would be one time Eric couldn’t say no.
But of course, he did. At least initially.
Eric listened to her read the entire invitation as attentively and patiently as any boyfriend down through the ages ever had. Then he tipped up her chin and kissed her sweetly. “Sorry, Kate. As much as I’d love to join you on this getaway, I have to pass.”
“But why?” she asked, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Because the getaway is for spouses and significant others. I’m not a spouse and you and I just started dating seriously.”
“What does the number of days or weeks have to do with it?” Kate tried her best to sound seductive. “Didn’t I tell you I loved you?” she added in a whisper.
“And I love you.” Eric kissed her a second time. “But this company retreat is for private investigators and I’m not one...at least, not yet.”
“Hunter Galen isn’t a PI; he’s a stock broker. And neither is Isabelle Price, Nate’s wife. Besides, you said you wanted to learn investigative work. A retreat would be a great place to learn in a casual setting.”
“These kinds of job-related vacations can strain long-married couples. Do you want to subject our new relationship to so much pressure?” Eric leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, his biceps straining the fabric of his sleeves.
“That’s a bunch of hooey,” Kate argued. “There won’t be any seminars or training sessions. We’ll be doing fun stuff like hiking and swimming, maybe deep sea fishing and a little shopping. Then we’ll chow down on free food. What sounds high pressure about that?” Kate was taking a chance by mentioning Eric’s favorite pastime, fishing, since she had no clue if that would be available, but she was desperate.
Eric smiled kindly. “I know your boss intimidates you. So maybe if you just hang out with your friends, without the added drama of me being there, you will relax more.”
Kate resisted the immature impulse to stomp her foot. “Truly, Nate Price no longer intimidates me. I’m hoping if you hang out with a bunch of private investigators, you’ll gain a better feel for the job.” She dropped her voice to a whisper in case Nonni was eavesdropping, one of her favorite pastimes. “You don’t want to give up your position as head chef until you know for sure what you want career-wise.”
The love-of-her-life picked up the recently purveyed seafood to check over and clean. “You’re sweet to worry, but when your family owns the place, they can’t slam the door in my face if I change my mind down the road. How would that look at Christmastime?”
Kate decided to join him at the sink. After rolling up her sleeves and washing her hands, she pulled the tails and shells off shrimp that would be used in sauces and casseroles. “That’s true,” she said. “Even though your family adores you, they recently put up with your absence while you were my bodyguard in Pensacola.”
“And I helped get your brother’s capital murder conviction amended.” He rubbed his knuckles against his shirt. “When Liam is finally released on parole, he’ll have a job waiting at Bella Trattoria.”
“And for that, I’m eternally grateful.” Kate reached for another handful of shrimp. “But don’t you think your family should know if you’re willing to take the reins when your dad retires or if your sister will be at the helm? This week might give you a better insight as to what a PI does, not just the fun parts.”
“What exactly are the fun parts?” Eric teased. “But I see your point. Dad has been at the restaurant more than my mother likes, plus my sister needs more help than just her teenage daughter and Nonni. Bernadette needs someone who’s invested in the future of Bella.”
Kate paused to organize her thoughts. “So why not lay your cards on the table? Tell them what you’re considering and ask for a more week of time-off. After that, you’ll come back to work with the intention of remaining permanently. Or you’ll tell them you’ll stay only longer enough to hire and train another chef to assist Bernadette. That way you can be true to yourself without leaving your family in the lurch.”
Eric remained quiet as he deveined shrimp after shrimp with an expert’s precision. “That makes sense. I’ll talk to my sister and dad tonight to see what they think, but I still can’t promise to go on the retreat. I can’t leave unless I can cover my position in the kitchen. I’m sure my dad is exhausted.”
“But will you seriously try?” Kate held her colander of shrimp under cold water.
Eric washed his hands of shrimp entrails and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You bet I will. I’ve only seen you in a swimsuit a handful of times. Is it a pink bikini with white polka dots?”
She chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a one-piece racing suit like those worn by professional athletes. And I have a matching swim shirt which I seldom take off.”
“Let’s hope my family agrees and for plenty of stifling hot weather.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now get out of here and let me work. Bella has plenty of reservations for tonight.”
“Thank you, Eric. If your ducks line up, be ready to go Saturday morning with every kind of clothes and footwear. Nate said we should be prepared for anything.”
“Should I bring my Swiss Army knife and Mag-Light?” he asked.
“Absolutely bring them.” Kate dried her hands and padded across the tile floor in a kitchen that smelled of garlic, rosemary, basil, and grilled onions. She loved the aroma of Italian food. And she loved the family who owned the restaurant. And most of all, she loved one man of Italian heritage more than life itself. So whether Eric would be able to get away or not, she would behave like a mature adult.
For the next few hours Kate finished unpacking and then answered every email, one by one. She sent her best friend and mentor, Beth Preston, a full update on where she stood with the retreat. Beth had trained Kate to be a PI after she had trained Michael, who ended becoming her new husband. Truth be told, Michael had been a lot easier to mold than she had been. But all that was behind them. During this getaway, she would get to know Beth and Michael better, in addition to the boss and his wife, Isabelle. And Kate would finally meet Nicki Price, Nate’s cousin, who also worked for the agency. Nicki, who hailed from a small town in Mississippi, had married a stockbroker from a very rich, very old New Orleans family. Kate couldn’t wait to meet her since according to Nate, Nicki had been worse than her when she first started.
Promptly at nine o’clock, Kate refreshed her makeup, put on a dress, and headed downstairs. After the last reservation had been served, the Manfredi clan always sat down to a family-style dinner in the kitchen, while the wait staff executed their duties with customary precision. Then the night staff would clean the kitchen and dining rooms from top-to-bottom. When Kate stepped off the bottom rung, everyone was already clustered around the table, chatting and wearing nothing but smiles.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Weller,” murmured Irena Manfredi in her cultured Milanese voice. Warming up to Kate had taken Eric’s mother some time, but nevertheless, she’d finally done so.
“Welcome back, Kate,” boomed the patriarch, Alfonzo Manfredi. “You’ll be happy to hear, I haven’t been accused of any capital crimes while you’ve been gone.” Alfonzo lifted a glass of well-aged red wine in salute.
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Manfredi. I’m grateful that the upstairs suite was still available.” Kate took her place next to Eric, who was grinning like a recent lottery winner.
“Ach, so what if I had to kick out a great-nephew doing post-graduate work?” Alfonzo filled a glass with wine and handed it to Kate. “That boy needs to stand on his own two feet.”
Aghast, she peered up at Eric for confirmation.
“Worry not, my sweet.” Eric slid his arm around her waist. “My cousin had already decided to move in with his girlfriend. A win-win, I’d say.”
“Welcome back, Kate,” greeted Bernadette, entering the kitchen from the back door. Eric’s sister usually went home to change clothes and pick up her husband and daughter, Danielle, before eating dinner. “My brother is never quite right in the head when you’re not around.”
“Aunt Kate!” Danielle pushed her uncle aside and locked both arms around Kate’s waist. “I’m so glad to see you. I need somebody on my side.”
“If I even hear the words ‘spring break’ once at this table, young lady, I’ll drag you to the car by your hair.” Bernadette gritted out the words through clenched teeth.
Everyone at the table but Danielle and her parents laughed.
Kate hugged the seventeen-year-old fondly. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered. “Good to see all three of you.” She nodded at the parents over Danielle’s head.
“Enough of the hello’s already!” Nonni approached the table with a steaming platter of food. “The veal parmesan is done, and the pasta with a Portobello mushroom sauce is getting cold. Everyone, sit down and eat!”
Whenever Nonni speaks, everyone listens…and eventually abides by her wishes. Unlike American culinary customs, salad came after both the pasta course and the entrée. But because it was an ordinary Wednesday with family, Nonni served the pasta along with the entrée. A huge bowl of salad sat within easy reach for those who wished to partake early.
“Did you miss the merry band of lunatics?” Eric asked next to Kate’s ear.
“You bet I did,” she whispered. “You have no idea what family means to someone who’s lived without one for a long time.” Kate passed her plate to Alfonzo for a piece of veal. He then passed her plate to Nonni who loaded it with pasta.
Eric looked at her for a long moment. “I have taken my family for granted,” he said in a clear voice. “Thank you for reminding me. Welcome back, Kate.” He lifted his glass of red wine in salute.
Everyone at the table did the same. “Welcome back,” they chimed.
Kate hadn’t meant for her true confession to go public. Speechlessly, she took a sip of Chianti, but couldn’t taste it. She stared at a burn mark in the table from when the family had allowed relatives to smoke inside the kitchen. Then everyone started eating and talking, and Kate’s embarrassing moment passed.
That night before she fell asleep in a remarkably comfortable bed, Kate whispered a short prayer as sounds of the city drifted in on the breeze: “Thank you for bringing me back to Charleston. And please don’t let me mess things up with Eric again.”
* * * * * *
(Friday evening)
Kate rechecked everything in her suitcase for the third time. She’d packed shorts, tank tops, t-shirts, jeans, long-sleeved sweatshirts, and three silky dresses in case they were expected to dress up for dinner, along with sneakers, hiking boots, flip-flops, and one pair of high heeled sandals. She then added two bathing suits, cover-ups, sunblock, sunglasses, and bug spray, along with her regular toiletries, makeup and hair dryer. Before she zipped the bulging bag closed, she tossed in several paperback mysteries and a magazine, just in case she couldn’t sleep. Kate debated whether or not she should take her handgun. Who in their right mind takes a weapon on vacation? But her mentor, Beth Kirby, insists that anyone licensed to carry like they were should go nowhere unarmed. So into her purse went the gun with an extra clip of ammo. After all, the world had become an increasingly more dangerous place.
Unlike the other private investigators in the agency, Kate had no one to notify regarding her vacation destination. Her brother remained incarcerated in Santa Rosa Correctional in Florida and her last foster mother had her hands full with the current group of kids. So after checking email for any last minute instructions, Kate set her bag by the door and stretched out for a few minutes of relaxation. Tomorrow she and Eric would head to St. Simons for seven fun-filled days and nights. Since arriving back home, Eric had worked non-stop to make sure Bella Trattoria would run smoothly in his absence. Kate hadn’t been around when Eric told his family about the company retreat, which was probably a good thing. Alfonzo had insisted on helping Bernadette in the kitchen, despite his wife’s concern for his health. And tonight, after the last customer had been served, Eric promised her a quiet dinner for just the two of them. Kate didn’t care if they ate outside in the shaded courtyard or down the street at a burger joint, just as long as they had a few minutes by themselves.
Just as Kate started to doze off, the jangle of her cell phone woke her up. “Hi, Eric,” she greeted, spotting caller ID. “Why didn’t you just holler up the steps if you needed my help?”
“Because I’m not down in the kitchen, sweet thing.”
Hearing the forced calmness in his voice sent a shiver up Kate’s spine. She bolted upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Then where are you?”
“I’m checking on my sister at Roper Hospital. Bernadette called me from the ambulance because Michael went to Columbia on business.”
A rather selfish thought popped into Kate’s head, but she did her best to squash it. “How is she, and what the heck happened?”
“Right now I don’t know because the doctors are still examining her. Soon they will send her upstairs for a cat scan or some x-rays.” Eric exhaled a weary sigh. “Somebody mugged my sister in the church parking lot, of all places. Bernadette had been dropping off meals for the homeless when some…miscreant hit her on the head, pushed her to the ground, and took off with her purse.” His voice rose in volume with each word.
“Oh, Eric, that is just awful,” Kate murmured. “Want me to sit and wait with you? Isn’t Roper Hospital over on Calhoun?”
Eric thought a moment before answering. “What I really need is for you to help my dad and Nonni in the kitchen. I already called Aunt Estelle, our pastry chef, to come in for tonight, but it’ll take time for her to get downtown.”
The last of Kate’s fog vanished. “You really think I could help in a four-star restaurant? My repertoire of recipes consists of mac-and-cheese from a blue box and tomato soup from a can.”
“Not to worry, my parents will probably just have you clean vegetables and fix salads. Uh-oh, one of the doctors just walked out of Bernadette’s exam room. I want to catch him before he heads into another room.”
“Sure, Eric, you can count on me.” Kate tried to sound convincing.
“I know I can. Thanks, Kate. Tonight I’ll make your dinner extra special.” Then he hung up without another word.
Kate went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands and then headed downstairs. That evening as she scrubbed carrots and cucumbers, chopped celery, grated onions, and artistically arranged heirloom greens on chilled plates for Bella Trattoria customers, Kate had to force away thoughts of tomorrow so many times, she finally concluded she was hopelessly self-centered. Irena Manfredi showed up at six to take over grilling and sautéing duties. Alfonzo manned the five different saucepots, each made fresh every day. Nonni boiled each order of pasta to al dente perfection, while Aunt Estelle handled steamed vegetables and appetizers. All in all, dinner for tonight’s reservations was pulled off with only a few minor glitches.
When Eric walked in around nine o’clock with his niece trailing behind him, everyone felt exhausted but proud of what they had accomplished. The last two hours had been so hectic without the head and sous chefs that everyone briefly forgot why those two weren’t there. But after one glance at Eric’s tight and drawn face brought everyone back to reality.
Irena Manfredi was the first to speak. “What is it, son? How is Bernadette?”
“She’ll be fine, Ma.” Eric slumped into a chair at the table next to his niece. “The CAT scan showed a small concussion, but no major head injury. She has cuts, scrapes, bruising, and one chipped tooth, but Bernadette will be discharged tomorrow and should make a complete recovery. Before I left the hospital, the police called to say they found her purse with credit cards and driver’s license in the church dumpster. Apparently the thief only wanted cash and her cell phone” Briefly, Eric let his gaze flicker over Kate, who’d had the sense to take off her stained white apron at the sink.
“Thank God,” said Nonni, Irena, and Aunt Estelle in unison, followed by a simultaneous sign of the cross.
Danielle lifted her sleepy head off the table long enough to add, “Mom was mostly upset about her favorite casserole dish getting smashed and her dinner going to waste.”
Irena wrapped her slender arms around her granddaughter and nuzzled the top of her blond head. “Casserole dishes can be easily replaced, but people cannot be. After we eat, would you like to come home tonight with me and Papa?”
“Thanks, Granny, but Uncle Eric already called my dad. He’s on his way back from Columbia. Dad plans to spend the night in the chair in Mom’s room. He’s coming to get me first thing in the morning so I’d better stay here.”
“As you wish, mi amour.” Irena kissed the top of the girl’s head before she walked to the stove to check the simmering sauces. “It’s time for this family to eat and then get some rest. Al, would you pour the wine and iced tea? Estelle, please re-rinse the last batch of pasta that Nonni cooked.” Irena spoke with dignity and a matriarch’s authority, now that Nonni had fixed a plate and retired to her room, exhausted.
Eric pushed to his feet. “Thank you, Mama, but I promised Kate we would dine al fresco tonight.” To her he said, “Kate, would you carry the wine outdoors while I reheat our dinners?”
Kate didn’t have to be asked twice. As her fatigue vanished, she picked up two full glasses and headed for the back door. Over her shoulder she heard one of the waiters say: “Go with Miss Weller, Mr. Manfredi. I’ll deliver your dinners as soon as they are warm.”
Eric also didn’t have to be told twice. Once outside on the flagstone patio, he slumped in a chair and downed half his glass of Pinot Grigio. “I’m so sorry, Kate,” he whispered in the waning moonlight. A warm breeze stirred the trees, dropping leaves and spent flowers around their table.
Kate took a tiny sip of wine. “Sorry for what, exactly?”
“For sticking you with my family in the kitchen tonight when you’d expected a romantic evening before our big trip.”
Kate took another sip and swallowed hard. “Do you think the retreat on St. Simons is still possible?” she asked in a barely audible voice.
“It definitely is for you, sweet girl, and maybe even for me.” Eric took another swallow of wine. “Bernadette insists she is fine and wants us to go. But even if she comes home tomorrow and rests on Sunday when the restaurant is closed, the earliest she can return to work is Monday. And that means only standing over her husband’s shoulder and directing everything he does. I spoke to Michael on the way home. He’s taking a week off to be with his family.”
They both leaned back from the table as their dinners were delivered on a silver tray, including salads, slices of tiramisu, and another bottle of wine. The young waiter also brought a silver candlestick and then lit the taper with a flourish.
“Thank you, Jason,” said Eric. “Now get on home to your family.”
“You got it. Good night, sir, ma’am.” The young waiter pulled off his apron and headed for the parking lot.
Eric and Kate leaned over their plates and breathed in the lemony aroma of Chicken Piccata over linguini.
“Eat, Kate, before the food gets cold,” he said. “You must be starving.”
“Don’t be silly. For every baby carrot I washed, I popped one in my mouth.” Kate’s reply was more truth than jest. “Finish telling me about the situation with your sister.” Kate swirled some linguini around her fork.
Eric cut into his tender chicken breast and sampled a bite. “I think you should join your cohorts tomorrow as planned. You can explain to everyone what happened here with my sister. Then tell them that I hope to join you on Sunday or Monday at the latest, once I’m certain the restaurant can manage without Bernadette being at one hundred percent.” He forked up a larger piece of chicken. “This is quite good, don’t you think?”
Kate set down her wineglass and swallowed a bite of her cutlet. “It’s wonderful,” she declared, “Like every dish served at Bella Trattoria. You might be able to leave as early as Sunday?”
“Maybe. Everything depends on how my sister feels and if my mother will allow Dad another week in the kitchen.”
“Your father loves to cook,” Kate swirled another forkful of pasta.
“I know he does, but Mom wants him to slow down. You know…smell the roses she grows instead of Portobello mushroom sauce all day long.” Eric refilled their glasses from the new bottle.
“This wine is really good,” she said after one sip. “Is this from upstate New York or Napa Valley, California?” she teased, knowing Eric drank only Italian wine.
Eric grinned over the rim of his wineglass. “I adore your sense of humor, Kate. And I adore you. Go meet your friends and have a great time. I’ll be there before you have a chance to miss me.”
She set down her fork and dabbed her mouth. “And I adore you, Mr. Manfredi. If you can’t leave until Sunday, that’s when we’ll both go. If we must wait until Monday, so be it. I’m not abandoning you.”
He laughed. “Bella Trattoria is not the Titanic.”
“I know, but I’ve made up my mind so don’t think about trying to change it.” Kate picked up her knife and fork and attacked the chicken in earnest. “Goodness, Eric, who made this piccata? I believe it tastes even better than yours.” She chewed slowly to savor the delicate blend of herbs and spices.
Eric growled low in the throat. “You shall pay dearly for that comment, Miss Weller. You won’t know where or when, but you shall pay.”
“Do I look worried?” Kate leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine. “Let’s not finish dinner too quickly. We want the dishes already done and the kitchen clean when we carry our plates inside.”
“Spoken like a true Bella Trattoria salad girl.” He lifted his glass in salute. “I truly do want to attend this retreat with you. We’ll leave the moment I feel my responsibilities are covered.”
Kate smiled, knowing that he meant what he said and that she’d made the right choice. After all, what’s a getaway without your significant other? Just another work meeting.

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