Page 62 of Wish I Were Here
I turn to him with a questioning expression. “What does ‘a Victoria’ look like?”
Luca shrugs. “Queenlike.”
I turn back, and thereisa grace to the way the woman glides up the stairs to the porch. Her trousers and blouselook expensive, as if they’ve been tailored just for her and, despite her advanced age, she’s wearing heels.
“She reminds me of you.” Luca’s gaze sweeps over me. “Elegant.”
I look back to the woman. “So what do we do now?”
“Now we go and meet her. Are you ready for this?”
I take a shaky breath. “No.”
“You can do this.” He takes my hand. “I’ll be right there with you.”
What would I do without him?
We cross the street and head up the path to the front door of the house. I ring the bell, and to the left of us, the sound of organ chimes drifts out an open window. About ten seconds later, we hear footsteps tap past that same window.
The door swings open, and on the threshold stands the same older woman we saw moments ago in the driveway. Up close, she looks a little younger than I predicted—closer to seventy—but that might be because she’s put a lot of work into maintaining her appearance. Her shoulder-length silver hair looks professionally styled, her forehead smooth, and her clothes appear just as expensive up close as they did from far away.
Luca commented that she reminds him of me, and as I take her in, I realize the womaniswearing a pair of herringbone trousers and a white blouse that are pretty much a carbon copy of the outfit I wore the day Luca spilled my coffee. Is it a complete coincidence, or did I inherit my grandmother’s sense of style?
My gaze lifts to her face. Her sense of style, and her blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asks. Her voice is cold, detached. Not exactly unfriendly, but not warm and welcoming, either. But then again, we’re a couple of strangers standing on her porch. Did I expect her to run outside and fling her arms around me?
“Hi,” I say, and it comes out high-pitched and squeaky. I clear my throat. “We’re looking for a woman named Melanie Jankowski. Would you happen to know how we can get in contact with her?”
The woman peers at us, eyes slightly narrowed. “What is it that you want with Melanie?”
“Well.” I open my mouth, but our entire plan goes out of my head. Because she didn’t say no. She didn’t say she’s never heard of a Melanie Jankowski, or that I must have the wrong house. My gaze darts to Luca. He gives me an encouraging nod.You can do this.
“Well, I—the thing is—”
“Yes?” Her voice is clipped. Impatient.
“The thing is my name is Catherine. Catherine Lipton. And I think Melanie might be my mother.”
The woman’s eyes widen, and she grabs onto the doorframe for support. Her face turns as pale as the white marble floor she’s standing on. For a moment, I think she’s going to pass out. She’s not a young woman, and this could be very bad. Luca’s thoughts seem to be going in the same direction, because he takes a step forward, reaching out a hand.
She recoils from him. “No.” Her hand fumbles to grasp the door handle. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” And with that, she staggers backward and swings thedoor shut in our faces. A distinct click of the lock carries out to the porch.
Luca and I stare at each other.
“Well,” I finally say. “That didn’t go well.”
“Sure it did,” Luca counters, ever the optimist.
“How do you figure?”
“Now we know we’re in the right place.”
I bite my lip. From the open window to our left, I hear the muffled ping of ringing through a cell phone. It sounds like Victoria is making a call and put it on speaker. Is she calling the police?
“Maybe we should talk in the car.” I turn to head across the porch. There might be Morellis all over town, but the chances of Uncle Marco showing up to let us off the hook for a second time seem pretty slim. I’ve avoided arrest more than once this week, and my luck can hold out for only so long. But before I even make it to the steps, Luca reaches out and grabs my shoulder, pulling me back against him. “What areyou doing?” I demand.
“Shhh.” He leans in, his mouth inches from my ear, his solid chest warm against my back. “Listen.”
