The Escort - By Gina Robinson Page 0,61

proud tribute to its main industry and to the hope that she owned land somewhere up one of the hillsides. With land she would not be poor. She would sell it and buy a house in Wallace. Tonio would not have to worry that he had nothing to offer her. She would have something to offer him.

She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and followed the directions to her lawyer's office. Her lawyer—the term both frightened and excited her.

A sign hanging from a lamppost marked John Lawlor's office, which was as easy to find as Tonio had assured her. His secretary led her into his office, where Angelina took a seat. A few minutes later, John Lawlor entered.

Angelina liked him on sight. A man in his late forties or early fifties with slightly stooping shoulders and a gray mustache, he reminded her of Papa. He had an infectious smile and a kindly manner of speaking meant to put clients at ease, she supposed. At least, she relaxed.

"Mr. Lawlor," she said, "your name suits your profession."

"Yes, with a name like Lawlor, what else could I be except a lawyer?"

She told him her story as he listened and asked questions, nodding, stroking his chin. Finally he said, "Tonio was in to see me earlier this week and gave me a briefing. I need to ask you a few pertinent questions."

"Yes, signor."

"Did Mr. Allessandro have any children?"

"No."

"Parents still alive?"

"No."

"Brothers or sisters?"

"He had two brothers. One passed away many years ago. The other," Angelina paused. She did not like to think about Paolo. Although his disappearance had not been her fault, she felt that she had somehow brought tragedy to the Allessandro family.

"His younger brother Paolo was my escort to the United States. He got an eye disease and was to be deported. They would not let him enter the country. Later I heard that he boasted that he was going to jump overboard and try to swim to shore.

"It is a dangerous swim, Signor Lawlor. I was in New York for months afterward. If he had jumped and lived, he would have contacted me. Someone would have heard from him."

"Has he contacted his family or anyone in Italy?"

"I don't know. I have not heard from them since I left New York."

John Lawlor patted her hand. "I'm sorry."

She nodded.

"You were married in Italy?"

"Yes, by proxy. It's done all the time in Italy," Angelina said, though she wasn't certain it was legal, even there.

"And no one besides you, Tonio, and the Halls know that the marriage was never consummated?"

"And Paolo."

John Lawlor frowned slightly. "Then unless Paolo turns up to make a claim on the inheritance, I don't foresee any problems. Would you like to see your land?"

Angelina's pulse raced. "My land? Is it that easy?"

"I don't see why not." He extended his hand to her. "We'll take my carriage. It's a fine day for a drive."

"Mr. Lawlor, I must ask one more favor. The man at the mine told me only that my husband was dead, nothing more. I would like, that is, if it is possible, to know where he is buried. I would like to visit the man who has given me this gift and honor his memory."

Her lawyer nodded. "I took the liberty of looking into that for you. He's buried in the town cemetery overlooking the lake. It's a nice spot. I think anyone would like it, especially someone who loved this town. When I inquired about Mr. Allessandro, I was told that he was a quiet, hardworking man who kept to himself mostly. He worked in the mine in Kellogg, so he was not around here much. But the few who knew him seemed to like him and were sorry about his passing."

Angelina squeezed Mr. Lawlor's arm. "Thank you. I will write of that to my father, who was his friend years ago, and to my village for the people there will want to know."

Angelina's property was outside of town on a hillside overlooking a gentle valley. The trees grew thick and the underbrush lush. John drove her to a tiny cabin. "This would have been your home. Would you like to go in?"

She didn't want to, but John thought it necessary, that there might be something of value that she should have. It was sparsely furnished. The man had not had much. But it was evident that he had been preparing it for her arrival. He had begun to construct a little pantry and it was