Nor should I. I quickly dialed Ellie, mentally pulling up her itinerary. If all had gone well, she would have boarded the flight to Denver before noon. Passed through the final customs gate at three thirty, landed around seven this morning and checked into the first hotel in Venice. From there, I’d arranged for breakfast and a tour with a gondola ride later. But knowing my sister, she’d’ve gotten bored within a few minutes and diverted to the gondola first.
It rang four times. When she picked up, I could tell she was outside. “Did you make it to Venice?”
Instead of answering me, she asked, “Where are you? And where is my suitcase of underwear?”
Most of her risqué, brand-spanking-new underwear was still in its suitcase, conveniently still intact after the stylist’s pillaging. The where question was a little trickier.
Should I tell her? I sent the question to Mario. He circled his hand, as if to say go on with it. “I’m in Milan.”
“You couldn’t get a flight to Venice? What the heck?”
“No, it was the only flight available at the time.”
My sister brushed off the logistics easily. “Whatever. Just tell me what happened in as few words as possible.”
A whole hell of a lot. “Where do you want me to start?” At saying “I do” or…?
“Did you get the refund from the wedding venue?”
“No. They didn’t refund the money.”
“I bet that dick Johnny is to blame for that, isn’t he?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Ellie shot back.
“It’s complicated. Johnny hasn’t bothered you, has he?” The last I’d seen of him, he was being hauled off to the emergency room thanks to Mario. That should have been a red flag, but I’d conveniently ignored it.
Mario raised an eyebrow as if it would help him listen in on my call easier.
“I haven’t seen him. Thank God for small favors.”
“Good.” That was one less problem to deal with.
“Listen, I know you had to deal with my mess. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I got to the airport and tried to cash in the ticket. And, you got so delayed because of it, you didn’t come back to the hotel. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, El. I’m good.”
“Really? I have your suitcases. Your itineraries and reservations…” My twin didn’t sound convinced.
“I obtained clothes.” And as far as itineraries went, those took second place to a hitman’s bounty on my…husband’s head. Even thinking about it that way made me embarrassed.
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “You… Miss ‘I wear shit-covered boots’ as a fashion statement. You’ve squirreled away every penny of Grandpa Pulaski’s money, but bought clothes? In Milan?” The latter portion of that sounded just as incredulous as it possibly could.
But technically, I didn’t buy the clothes. And Ellie would never let me hear the end of it if I told her I’d gotten married to a gangster who whisked me away in a private jet and bought me a wardrobe that outshone all my prior clothing purchases ten-fold. “Well, it was either that or freeze. It is February.”
“Yeah, I thought it would be warmer for some reason. I should have stayed in Vegas. I’m shivering my lady nuts off here.”
A masculine snort sounded from her end of the call.
“Are you with someone?”
Ellie never could lie to me well, so I heard the pitch change and the slight hesitation as she made up a lie. “Oh, that’s just my interpreter. Don’t mind him.”
“You hired an interpreter?” I knew damn well she wouldn’t know where to begin to do that. Ten bucks she met someone at a hotel bar and dragged him around Italy with her.
Mario leaned forward to eavesdrop better.
