“There you are,” said Jayston, snatching up a small pink rucksack from the sofa. He dug through the various compartments, coming up at last with a small coin, which he tossed to Nikki with a twitch of a smile. She caught it and turned it over.
“Tracker,” he explained. “Not the first time Audrey’s got the idea to run off, or hide. Whole damn crew’s been looking for her…tearing the boat apart. I expected she would take her rucksack, though. She’s supposed to keep her EpiPen with her. Peanut allergy. Terrifies me. Do you have children?”
Nikki shook her head.
“A delight and a horror,” he said.
It was only now he looked down and seemed to notice his stockinged feet.
“Pardon me, won’t you? I was in the middle of dressing when I learned my daughter had gone missing. Here—do make yourself comfortable. I’ll fetch the passport at once.”
He left the room with the same brusque efficiency that he’d done everything.
Nikki looked around the space. The furniture was leather and burgundy silks, the fixtures in gleaming brass. On one table, a profusion of orange and pink blossoms overflowed an enormous vase. Watercolor landscapes in gilded frames hung on the walls.
The elegance of the space was eased by signs of living: a jacket tossed on a chair, an unfinished puzzle on a table, a shuffle of papers with a clutch of crayons.
At one end of the room stood a sleek bar with a stocked wine fridge and a backlit display of high-end bottles. Nikki was facing this and didn’t hear Jayston enter.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I seem to have quite lost my manners. May I offer you a drink? Terribly sorry, I fear I’ve already forgotten your name.”
Nikki turned. He was poised just inside the door, one hand restingon the frame. There was a graceful tension in his body that she recognized from the sailing community—a balanced readiness.
“Nikki Serafino,” she said. “And, please, don’t trouble yourself.”
“Not a trouble, Nikki.”
As his expression softened, she realized the intensity that had lived in those features only minutes ago.
“I just had a moment alone to think,” he continued. “And I realized…you brought Audrey back from across Naples. No fuss at the police station. No spectacle. No demands. Merely a kindness to a child and her parents. I’m most grateful. Thank you.”
Heat rose to Nikki’s cheeks, and the familiar discomfort brought on by praise.
“No thanks needed,” she said. “I really should go.”
“Do join me for a drink, won’t you?”
He strode into the room and opened the wine fridge, surveying the contents.
“A Livio Felluga pinot grigio? Or Meursault? There’s a rather lovely Castello di Ama Chianti I’ve been waiting to open.”
Nikki hesitated. He glanced up and flashed a smile.
“A whisky, perhaps?” he said. “I must say, a Lagavulin sounds just right.”
She nodded. “Thanks. I’d love a whisky.”
“Do take a seat.”
Jayston slapped the passport on the bar and crossed behind it.
—
He leaned down, collected two heavy tumblers, and poured the amber liquid. Nikki perched on a padded stool.
“So, tell me about yourself, Nikki. Do I hear a trace of London in your accent?”
“Camden,” Nikki agreed. “I spent a decade in London.”
