Nor did I blame her. In fact, never had I seen her so bummed out, not even when she’d turned in her novice veil. As for Lorenzo, I’d heard most of what he’d told her: his relationship to Fonso and the gypsy community; but more importantly, the wife El didn’t know about, the wife who’d entered the Twilight Zone. Shades of Jane Eyre, I couldn’t help thinking, not that I was promoting death by fire. This woman floating around in the garden, a slew of cats lapping up milk; Lorenzo in denial … erase that, Lorenzo living a lie of convenience. My poor sis, misled, both of us nearly murdered. Oh, yeah. We’d done our bit in the name of Italia, for the good of Monterosso al Mare and the tourist industry as a whole. El and I were ready to leave for the police station when she told Lorenzo it wouldn’t be necessary for him to go with us. “Ah, but I must,” he said. “Dante is expecting me.” Really, I had my doubts but like it or not, I still felt like the third wheel of a bicycle built for two.
