the same face shape, about the same height. Though Donna Pagano’s eyes were bright blue, and Lia’s were green like her father’s, the shape—wide and sweet—was the same. Lia’s mother was obviously middle-aged, getting round in the body and grey on the head, but she was a stunningly beautiful woman. Alex could see that Lia’s body was the same as her mother’s as well—or had been, at least, when Lia had eaten like a human being and not a dying rabbit.
“Hello, Donna Pagano. I’m Alex,” he said, remembering his manners.
She smiled brightly—and that was the same, too. Like the sun had dropped from the sky and wrapped around her. “Hi, Alex. Lia’s upstairs, but she’ll be down in a second. Would you like a glass of water or juice while you wait?”
What was it about girls that they were never ready on time? Was there some kind of rule about that?
Before Alex could deliver the ‘No, thank you,’ he had queued up out of respect for the obvious distaste the don had for the idea, there was shouting from the top of the stairs.
“Carrie, you twat! No!”
A girl ran to the upper landing—damn, she was gorgeous. Long dark hair, and blue eyes so bright Alex could tell their color from where he stood. Like her mother’s. That was Carina. The look on her face, though full of humor, was strangely intense and maybe a little mean. She slammed her hands on the railing at the upper landing and hooked her slim body over it.
“Whoa. Hottie alert! Damn, Leelee, you finally caught one!”
“Cara.” Don Pagano’s voice was deep and soft, but the cutting edge was clear.
She stood straight and crossed her arms. “It was a compliment.”
“Go to your room, honey,” Donna Pagano said. “This isn’t about you.”
“Ugh!” Carina groaned and spun on her heel. “I’m supposed to give her shit. It’s in the little sister handbook!”
When she was out of sight down the hall, the three people in the foyer were caught in a little time warp, no one moving or speaking. Except Snuggles, who had returned to his—her?—deep olfactory investigation of Alex’s jeans. Now he—she? Snuggles was a gender-neutral pet name if ever there was one—had found a particularly compelling clue right in Alex’s crotch. Thanks a bunch, dog.
As gently as he could, Alex pushed the dog away. “I think she”—he took a guess—“smells my mom’s cat.”
“Snuggles, stop!” Donna Pagano scolded and took the dog by its collar. “I’m going to put him outside.” (Him. Okay, mystery solved.) “Lia will be right down. Nick, why don’t you come help me?”
“Beverly?” Nick asked, staring at his wife with naked confusion.
“I need help in the kitchen, please,” his wife said pointedly. “Now.”
It took the don a second, either to understand or to acquiesce, or both, but finally he nodded. To Alex, he said, “Don’t leave until we’re back.”
“No, sir.” Alex let loose a big storm of relieved breath when Lia’s parents left the foyer.
He stood where he was and waited, looking around what he could see of the house—which wasn’t much, mainly the staircase, the landing above, and the hallway on this floor, which led to other rooms. On either side were French doors that led into a living room on one side and a dining room on the other, but they were both so large it was hard to get an impression of either.
On the walls of the hallway that led back from the foyer, however, he saw a lot of frames. By their sheer quantity and arrangement, he guessed they were family photos. His mother had a similar arrangement over the sofa in their much smaller living room.
With no sign yet of Lia, he wandered into the hallway and took a look.
A family gallery, as he’d guessed. It was strange to see so many photos of Don Pagano being a dad, with a big, warm smile, holding one or two of his children—in one photo, he had all four of them, two on his back and two in his arms—or standing with them all clustered before him. The don was such a fearsome man, a presence so big it seemed to hover over everything in Quiet Cove and even farther, but here, he was just a dad. And a loving husband, too. There was a wedding photo on the wall, with the don and his new wife gazing into each other’s eyes with such love the photo seemed to generate its own heat.