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Roland
Roland pivoted the laundry basket to his hip and reached for the doorknob to Jarret’s bedroom. He hesitated. Jarret had taken off in Papa’s Lexus around noon, but he usually left the door open when he wasn’t in his bedroom. He hadn’t returned, had he?
He knocked. No one answered so he tried twisting the knob. It was locked. He knocked again, louder.
“Go away.” Jarret sounded annoyed.
“Open the door. I have your laundry.”
“Leave it and go.”
“Leave it? On the floor? Really? I’ve got your . . .” He checked the label of the shirt on top. “. . . your two Armani shirts, your Gucci jeans, your—”
A thud and a clank sounded then the door opened but only enough for Jarret to glare out. “Use your brain. Set the basket down and go.”
“My stuff’s in here, too, in the bottom. Why can’t you just open the door? I’ll put your clothes on your bed and go.”
Words like selfish, annoying, and inconsiderate popped into his mind, but he really wanted to stop judging Jarret. Jarret had more than proven he could be nice, helpful, and self-sacrificing. So he was a little rude at times. Maybe he was having a bad day. His computer could’ve crashed, or his credit card could’ve gotten turned down while he was shopping online. Or maybe he was anxious about Keefe’s return. He had a different way of handling things.
“I’m using my bed.” Jarret grinned, his eyes holding a cocky glint.
“So, I’ll set them on your chair. Come on. Basket’s getting heavy.” Roland shifted the basket and re-gripped the handles. “Open the door!”
Jarret’s grin grew, the look in his eyes now calculating. Then he flung open the door.
Though he hadn’t wanted to show annoyance, Roland huffed and shook his head as he stepped into the room. Why did Jarret have to hate him so? If it were Keefe—
Roland stopped mid-step and his mouth fell open.
Jarret had a girl in his room!
Zoe stood facing the window, holding the curtain back with one hand and combing her hair with the other. Letting the curtain fall, she turned and smiled. “Hi, Roland.”
“You can’t have girls up here.” Roland spun to face Jarret. “I heard Nanny talk to you about it. It was a week ago when you had Zoe over for dinner and tried to go upstairs. She was very clear. No girls upstairs.”
Still grinning, Jarret swaggered to Zoe. “Yeah, Roland, I remember. So you’d better not tell. Cuz if Nanny or Papa finds out, you’re gonna be toast.” He threw Roland a murderous glance.
“So, what’s she doing up here?”
Jarret took the comb from Zoe and ran his fingers through her hair. “You really want to know?”
A faint sound came from outside. Tires crunching over gravel? Then an ominous silence.
The stupid grin faded from Jarret’s face.
A car door slammed. Then another.
Feeling a strange need to flee, Roland tensed.
Jarret spun to face the window. As he drew the curtain back, a bad word slipped out. “Papa’s home! We gotta get you downstairs,” he said to Zoe, then to Roland, “Go see where Nanny is.”
Gripped by a sense of urgency, Roland dropped the basket and dashed downstairs. At the foot of the steps, he glimpsed Nanny working at the kitchen table. If Zoe came down now and Nanny looked up, she’d see her. If he could get Nanny farther into the kitchen, like behind the bar counter—
He dashed back upstairs. “Nanny will see you if you go down now. Give me a few seconds to distract her.”
Jarret peeked out his window. “You’ve only got a few seconds.” He spoke fast. “They’re pulling luggage from the trunk.”
Heart racing, Roland dashed back downstairs. A thought flitted through his mind. Why was he helping Jarret get away with something? It would probably be better for him to get caught.
He slowed to a normal pace as he entered the kitchen. “Hi, Nanny.”
She looked up. “Did you get that laundry put away? Your father should be here any minute now.”
Yeah, don’t I know it. Roland nodded, stepped around the counter, and opened a cupboard. Not one to destroy things on purpose, his insides twisted as he pulled a glass from the shelf and let it slip from his fingers.
The glass shattered on the floor.
Nanny gasped and shot to his side. “Are you alright, dear?” She assessed the situation and motioned him away. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Sorry. Thanks.” He stepped around the bar counter. It was just a glass. Why did he feel so—
A blur of black hair and pale clothes passed the open kitchen doorway.
Then the front door creaked open.
Roland dashed from the kitchen.
Zoe and Jarret stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. At least they weren’t upstairs. Papa, Mr. Digby, and Keefe mumbled to each other as they carried luggage into the sunny foyer.
“Howdy, boys.” Papa set his luggage down and opened his arms. Jarret, the closest, stepped over for a hug.
Keefe’s attention snapped to Jarret and his face lit up. As Jarret backed up from Papa, Keefe moved in, lifting a hand to his twin’s shoulder.
With a glance that could freeze a desert, Jarret shrugged Keefe’s hand from his shoulder and turned away.
While Keefe’s hand remained hovering in mid-air, his expression fell.
Papa hugged Roland then his blue eyes lassoed Zoe. “Who’s this?”
“Uh, I’ve got a girlfriend now.” Jarret returned to Zoe’s side.
“Hi.” Zoe swung her hand out and smiled politely. “I’m Zoe.” With her silky dark hair and poise, the beige khakis and white sweater, she gave off a definite air of class.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mr. West.” Papa shook her hand and tugged his cowboy hat. He looked every bit the cowboy, hat, boots, leathery skin, and tall. “Maybe you can join us for dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
“Why don’t we all have some refreshments?” Nanny stepped into the foyer, all smiles and cheer. Her gaze landed on Zoe, and her eyes narrowed with a look of suspicion. “I didn’t know you were here, Zoe.”
“She just got here,” Jarret lied smoothly. He took Zoe by the hand and led her to the kitchen.
While Mr. Digby carried luggage past, Keefe came up to Roland and hugged him. “Hey ya, Roland. Miss me?” The picture of him on the cell phone didn’t compare to the real thing. Keefe looked mature and clean-cut with the cropped hair, his dark eyebrows and eyes standing out.
Roland smiled, finding himself drawn to the strange look in Keefe’s eyes. “Yeah, I missed you.” He wanted to share how hard he’d been trying to keep Jarret out of trouble, in Keefe’s stead, but that would only reveal how judgmental he’d been. So he decided to limit his comments to praise. “You know Jarret went camping with us, right?”
Keefe draped an arm around Roland’s shoulders as they walked to the kitchen. “Yeah, he told me.” He leaned in and spoke low. “That was before he stopped talking to me.”
“He stopped talking to you?”
Keefe nodded, ran a hand through his hair, and whispered, “Doesn’t like my haircut.”
Zoe and Papa took seats at the little kitchen table. Jarret pulled the chair in the middle around to one side and sat next to Zoe.
“Their house is done. Looks great,” Jarret said to Papa. “So when are we gonna go look for my car?”
Eyes on Jarret and mouth half open as if he wanted to say something, Keefe eased himself onto a stool at the bar counter.
Jarret threw a hostile glance in Keefe’s direction.
Keefe took a deep breath and averted his gaze.
“I’ll give Mr. Finn a call,” Papa said. “Make sure he’s satisfied.”
Hearing the name Finn, Roland looked. Papa already knew what Jarret had done for them? Roland took the barstool next to Keefe, and Nanny slid glasses of iced tea to them.
“I’ve got something for you,” Keefe said to Roland before sipping his iced tea. “Two things, really.”
Jarret threw another glance.
Papa’s voice had lowered, but Roland still heard it. “Maybe Mr. Finn has a few things that need touched up. I want him to be satisfied with . . .”
“We got a lucky break two days ago,” Keefe said, glancing from Roland to Nanny. “Or we’d probably still be out there.” A sentimental, distant look came over him. “I really liked Italy. Could’ve stayed longer.”
“What was your lucky break?” Nanny offered Keefe a muffin from a basket then shuffled around the counter, her eyes on Papa.
“A gentleman Papa met with in Bagno di Romagna . . .” Keefe turned, keeping his eyes on Nanny as she carried the muffins to the kitchen table. “. . . gave us a lead which took us back to Florence. Most of our leads led to nothing.”
“I worked my hours,” Jarret said to Papa, sounding annoyed. “Mr. Finn kept track. I think he wrote things down: when I was there, what I did . . .”
“Most leads were dead ends,” Keefe said, looking at Roland. “You know how that is.”
“Yeah.” Roland wanted to pay attention to Keefe but . . . It almost sounded like Papa and Jarret had had an arrangement concerning the Finns. But he shouldn’t think like that; he didn’t want to judge, to attach a selfish motive to Jarret’s good deed.
Roland forced his attention back to Keefe, realizing he’d missed bits of what he had said.
“. . . brought us back to Florence and Saint Ambrose’s Basilica. They have a museum attached. You know, the tomb of Saint Ambrose is there. Do you know who he is?”
“Huh? No.”
“I want to get my car,” Jarret said through clenched teeth, his jaw twitching. “You’re back. I did what you said. Why do I have to wait?”
“Settle down, Jarret,” Papa said. “Did you two meet at school?”
Zoe answered him and said something else with a smile. She grabbed Jarret’s hand, probably wanting to calm him.
“. . . so two miracles took place at this church, this little basilica,” Keefe said, blinking a few times. He pressed his lips together and stared at the countertop. “And when I went in there, the feeling was just the same. You remember what I told you about the miracle in Bagno? It really changed me.”
Jarret spun to Keefe. He dropped Zoe’s hand and scraped his chair out. “What’re you talking about?” He stomped up to Keefe, the muscles in his arms flexing.
Keefe looked at him over his shoulder and swallowed hard.
Roland felt tempted to avert his gaze. He’d never seen Keefe uncomfortable around Jarret before.
Keefe straightened and turned on the stool to face Jarret. “If you hadn’t stopped talking to me, you’d know all about it.”
A crooked grin stretched across Jarret’s face. The kitchen lighting brought out the stubble on his chin and over his lip and the darkness in his dilated pupils, giving him a sinister quality. “Does this have to do with your haircut?”
“It has everything to do with my haircut.”
They stared at each other in silence, the way they had always done, seeming to communicate without words. Papa, Nanny, and Zoe stopped talking, everyone waiting the moment out.
“Do you want to know about it?” Keefe finally said.
Jarret made the slightest headshake. “There couldn’t be a good enough reason.” He stepped backward. “All your strength, Keefe. You gave up all your strength.”
Eyes hard and jaw set, he motioned for Zoe to follow and walked away.