The Five-Day Dig (18 page)

Half-an-hour later, her sister had her trapped on the phone when a knock sounded at her door. She opened it and found Chaz carrying a tray holding wrapped panini, bowls of salad, utensils and napkins.

“Wow.” Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she whispered, “My sister’s on the phone. Go ahead out to the balcony, and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded. As he passed her, an undercurrent of fresh soapy smell teased her nose, along with the tantalizing aroma of prosciutto.

Closing the door, she watched him stroll through the room, taking in his surroundings. His gaze lingered on the bed, and she looked to see what had caught his eye. A
book
lay open on her mattress – Plutarch’s
Moralia
. Nothing unusual.

He continued outside, and she sat down on the bed.

While Christina railed on about the usual nonsense, Winnie stared at him through the open French doors. Setting down the tray on the table, he picked up the bottle of Valpolicella wine she’d left out there beside two glasses, a corkscrew and a lit votive. As he skimmed the label, her gaze drew his attention in her direction.

He smiled, and a tingle skipped down her spine.

She looked away and made herself listen to Christina.

“So, obviously, Sam’s in a bad way,” her sister was saying. “I hope you’ve been praying for him.”

She took a deep breath. Not this again. She didn’t need it now, after a long day of hard work.

Glancing out at the balcony, she saw that Chaz had uncorked the wine and was pouring it. That was what she needed ... though the setting looked a little too romantic.

“Winnie?” Christina asked.

“I lit a candle again,” she said faintly.

“You can’t scrape up enough faith to even attempt praying?” Christina interrupted her thoughts. “You don’t take any comfort in it?”

She sighed. “No, I don’t. If somehow you do, that’s great. I don’t begrudge you that, but I don’t.”

“Just because you don’t always get the answer you want doesn’t mean you should give up on praying.”

Her exasperation festered into anger. She knew the next lines of this lecture, and she didn’t want to hear them. She just wanted to move on, to remember their father at his best, not to think about what he’d done to them in the end.

“Just because we had a father who killed himself –” Christina began.

“That’s right.” Winnie jumped up and started pacing. “We did have a father who killed himself, and now we have a brother who could be cut from the same cloth.”

Her voice had grown louder, and she sensed that she’d drawn Chaz’s attention. She lowered her voice, but her throat stayed tense and her tone shrill. “And I had a mentor who tried to ruin my career and a husband who told me he never really loved me. Given all that, why is it a wonder that I’m a bit cynical?”

A tick of silence passed. “Cynical?” her sister asked. “What does that even mean? That you don’t believe in anything that really matters?”

“No, I believe in my family, my friends and my work. I’m grateful for what I have, and I’m trying to enjoy it, if you’d just let me.” She ra
n a hand over her hair
, struggling for control “I have to go. Chaz is waiting for me.”

She stole another glance at him. He was sitting at the table, staring into his wine, perfectly still. He’d definitely heard everything.

“You’ve mentioned Chaz a lot lately.” Christina’s voice softened. “Is something going on between you two?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She would have argued further but didn’t want the subject of the question to realize what had been asked. “Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“OK. Try to get some sleep tonight. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Without responding, Winnie hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. She swallowed her frustration and went outside.

Chaz handed her a glass of wine, pointedly meeting her gaze.

Sitting down, she said, “I’m sorry about all the melodrama. Christina has a way of pushing my buttons.”

“Funny how easily family members do that.” His scrutiny felt intense, and she had to look away.

She took a swig of Valpolicella and gazed out across the estate grounds toward the volcano. The sun had dropped behind it, and magenta streaked the partly cloudy sky. The beauty of the sunset began to calm her.

After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Your sister’s still upset about what’s going on with Sam?”

She picked up her fork and jabbed at a wedge of tomato. “Yes. He’s still missing. She’s been calling all of his friends, but no one has heard from him.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you hear from him tonight.”

“Thanks.” Crunching on her salad, she handed him a panino, then took one for herself and set it next to her plate.

He unwrapped his sandwich, reviving the aroma of prosciutto. “I’m sorry about ... the other stuff as well. I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about that.” The smell of the food made her realize how hungry she was. Opening her panino, she tried to look composed. “Christina likes to pick at old wounds, but when she’s not goading me, I’m actually past all that. My life is good. Look at the dig we’re working on. It’s amazing.”

She took a bite and chewed daintily on it, because she could feel him watching her.

“Yes, it is. And we’re here only because
your
book got Dunk’s attention.”

“Weird, isn’t it? That of all the books out there, he should pick up mine and it should make an impression?”

“I’m not surprised, having read both of your books. The analysis you put into the new one made me feel like a slacker for still researching my dissertation after a year.”

“A year is fine. You’re on track.”

He winced. “My father believes I should have flown through it in a couple of weeks. Archaeology is a soft science, he says. He’s a laparoscopic surgeon.”

It wasn’t like him to display a lack of confidence, and knowing that his father had caused the insecurity made her angry. “Archaeology isn’t soft. It entails geophysics, GPS, hard dating technologies like dendrochronology, infrared light to read obscured texts ...”

“All topped off with heaps of interpretation. And all nonessential, in Father’s opinion.”

“He’s wrong.” She set down her sandwich. “Understanding the past is integral to human progress. As they say, ‘Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.’ Maybe interpreting the data is somewhat of an art, but you’re damned good at it.”

He gave her an uncharacteristically shy look. “Thank you. Still, to a workaholic like my father –”

“He’s a workaholic? Then that must be where you get it from. You practically live at the university museum. Now you’re burning through your summer break here. And I’m grateful that you are, because you’ve been my buffer with Farber. I don’t know how I’d get by without you.”

Their gazes locked. He looked surprised.

She regretted her words. They made her sound weak and put pressure on him. “It’s not your job to be my buffer. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m glad you did.” He let out a short laugh. “For a moment, I felt like a responsible person.”

She opened her mouth to point out more examples of his responsible behavior, but she stopped herself. So far they’d indulged in nothing but mutual admiration, and the direction of the conversation felt risky.

Picking her sandwich back up, she changed the subject. “So you’ve been studying ancient religion for your dissertation. Do you think Cybele is the goddess who was worshiped here?”

He took the wine bottle and topped up her glass, then his. “Cybele is a good possibility, but it could also be Isis, who was popular in
Pompeii
at the time of the eruption. We need more to go on.”

“Maybe the new room will hold some clues, if not the missing statue itself. Do you still want to go back out there tonight?”

“If that’s the best thing you can think of doing.” He slid her a sly look.

A wave of raw lust broke inside her. This time she couldn’t muster up a retort or even a laugh to make light of his flirting. She looked into her glass, afraid of what her eyes might reveal to him. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

He didn’t respond, but pheromones danced between them. She knew he could sense that she was weakening, because she could sense he wasn’t joking anymore.

It was insane. And getting dangerous.

She cleared her throat. “Let’s finish up and see if they got into the room.”

A long moment passed until she could meet his gaze again.

When she did, he was looking at her squarely. He nodded slowly. “OK. We do have only three days left on the dig of a lifetime. I suppose everything else can wait that long.”

Everything else.
She studied his face, trying to determine what that meant to him. A one-night stand with her? The thought made her dizzy, much to her shame. It was impossible. Even if she weren’t in an authority position over him, how would they work together afterwards?

He looked so serious. She almost wished she could ask him what he wanted from her. But if he turned the question around to her, she wouldn’t be able to answer.

Looking down, she took another gulp of wine. He had given her a short reprieve tonight, but when it ended, could she resist him?

U
NDICI

T
HE EVENING SKY
had clouded up and darkened, and they were tired, so they took the Punto to the dig site. As Winnie pulled into the makeshift parking lot next to the excavation area, a panel truck with ladders and other equipment passed on its way out.

Chaz watched it drive by. “That structural engineer of Dunk’s is dodgy-looking. Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen him.” She steered the car into a spot close to the gate leading into the site. “What do you mean by dodgy-looking?”

“He dresses all in black with mirrored sunglasses and has his hair slicked back. He also holds himself in an unnatural-looking way – sort of hunched over.”

“As long as he knows what he’s doing, his sense of style doesn’t worry me.”

“I just expected an engineer – especially an Italian one – to be better pulled-together. Perhaps I don’t know many engineers.” He opened the door and got out.

Meeting him outside, she laughed. “There are a couple of engineers in my family, and I’m sorry to say, they rarely look pulled-together. Of course, they’re not Italian, so the expectations are lower.”

They picked their way along the shadowy path. As they got closer to the temple, visibility improved, thanks to two lightboxes set up by the entrance. In the glow ahead, she saw Dunk interviewing Jack as Hank filmed and Amara stood by, holding a clapboard.