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not only Mediterranean but a reputed criminal, with looks too smooth and manners too obvious. She readily accepted the monthly allowance he provided her but felt within her rights to be distant. She backed away from her daughter’s luggage and opened the door. “Where are you going?” her son-in-law asked.
    “Where do you think? Home. I want to be in my own bed tonight.”
    “I’ll arrange a ride.”
    “You don’t have to,” Mrs. Denig said stoutly. “The taxi’s waiting. Kiss your wife.”
    When the door closed behind her, Anthony Gardella kissed his wife long and lovingly and then held her at arm’s length to stare at her oval face and blond hair. “I’m so in love with you,” she whispered, and he drew her near again, savoring her scent. “I should have been beside you,” she murmured. “What did people say?”
    “They didn’t say anything.”
    “But you should have told me. It’s like I’m not really a part of your life.”
    He spoke close to her ear. “That’s not true.”
    “Take me upstairs, Tony. Carry me up.” His reaction was slow, and she sensed the reason. “We’re not alone, are we?”
    “My sister and Victor are in the front room. It’s business. It won’t take long.”
    She separated from him and smiled weakly over the bow of her blouse. “Should I pop in and say hello?”
    “No. Wait for me upstairs.”
    They looked up when he entered the room. His sister was ensconced on a sofa and drinking Saint Raphael. Victor Scandura sat woodenly across from her. He did not look happy. Gardella dropped into a deep chair and said, “What’s the matter, Victor?”
    “I’ve been trying to convince your sister, but she won’t listen either.”
    “If this had happened to your mother and father,” Gardella said with gravity, “would you wait?”
    Scandura spoke with a long face. “Anthony, listen to me. One of the reasons you’re where you are is you’re a patient man. ‘A patient man avoids mistakes.’ I’m quoting you, Anthony, and I’m saying we should handle this like always. Six months at least to let things cool down. A year would be better. Let those punks think they got away with it. Makes it even sweeter when the time comes.”
    “No,” said Rita O’Dea. “Six months, a year, a train might hit them, and they get off easy.”
    “Rita’s right,” Gardella said and made a fist. “I want them to die hard, and I want to be there. I want to see it happen.”
    “No, you don’t, Anthony.” Scandura was upset. “I don’t advise it.”
    “I’m entitled.”
    “We’ll both be there,” said Rita O’Dea.
    Scandura adjusted his glasses. He made one final plea. “I only met this Wade guy once, that’s all. Maybe he’s got something up his sleeve. He seems okay, but I can’t guarantee it.”
    “So we’ll be careful,” Gardella said, undeterred. “Any other problems?”
    “Anthony, I’m going to need time. A little time at least to set it up.”
    Rita O’Dea finished her drink. “Then get working on it,” she said in a tone that never failed to offend Scandura.
    • • •
    With the blinds drawn against the stark winter daylight, Jane Gardella made room for her husband on the warm bed. She lay extended, her toes stretched to enhance her feet, her waist incredibly slim. His eyes absorbed her, and his hand traced over her. He said, “I missed you.”
    “You were supposed to,” she said, bathing in his attention.
    “Who did you meet on those white beaches?”
    “Are you jealous?”
    “Have you ever known me not to be?”
    She rolled partly over him, digging in a gentle knee, and grinned into his face. “You’d have loved the Europeans. The women, even the husky ones, wore bikinis and took off the tops.”
    “How did that sit with your mother?”
    “Not well.”
    “And with you?”
    “I’d have done it too if you’d been there. We’d have swum in the buff. Some did.”
    “We wouldn’t have.”
    “Oh, yes,” she said confidently. “I’d have