Death in the Dolomites David Wagner (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📖

“I’ll say,” she giggled. “I’m full already. Please start.”

Rick was glad to take the cue. He needed something in his stomach other than wine, and the food spread out before them was beckoning. He took the fork and transferred some of the sliced meats to his tray. Cat did the same while he waited.

“Buon appetito, Cat, and thank you for inviting me.” He snapped off a chunk of bread and passed it to her.

“My pleasure, Rick, and buon appetito.”

Several minutes of tasting and food discussion followed. Cat agreed that the speck was the best of the cold cuts, with the bresaola a close second. The Russian salad got higher points than the rice salad; the type of pâté could not be identified with precision; and the artichokes were acceptable, given the location of the cook. The decision was made to push back and take a breather before starting on the cheeses. In addition, at Rick’s suggestion, they agreed to open a bottle of red wine to go with them. He was dispatched to the pantry to pick a bottle, and Cat disappeared into the back of the apartment.

Rick found a long shelf filled with bottles standing upright, making it easier to check labels. Again he looked for the holiday prosecco, but found only more bottles of the same one they were drinking. Reds and whites on the shelf were primarily from Lombardy; Cameron Taylor apparently had decided to stay close to Milan in his wine purchases. It would go along with his personality: learn local wines first and then branch out. All very organized. Rick decided on a Valcalepio, which, according to the label, came from the province of Bergamo, east of the Lombardian capital. He took it off the shelf and walked back into the kitchen where he was hit with an invisible wave of Cat’s perfume.

“This one looks fine, Cat. It’s red and it’s liquid, so it should fit the bill with the cheese.” He found a corkscrew in a drawer and popped open the bottle while she got two new glasses.

The cheese course conversation was more subdued; the wine was having its effect. After they had tried all five cheeses and were starting another round, Rick noticed that Cat’s mood seemed to change slightly. She had just taken a long drink of the red wine when Rick noticed her staring at her glass. He waited.

“Rick, I was never a very good sister to Cam. He was right in wanting me to do better with myself, but I always tried to push him out of my life. I should have just accepted that he was better than I was and taken his advice.”

Rick decided it would be better to let her talk. He cut a piece of pecorino, put it on his plate, and waited for her to continue.

“I wish he were here now to give me advice on how to get through this.” She laughed while she pushed a tear from her eye with one finger. “That’s funny. Even Cam would have laughed at that, and he didn’t have much of a sense of humor.”

“I’m sure you had some fun together as kids, Cat. Remember those times.”

She took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling as she thought. “Yes, there were times when we were very young, before he got…well, you know. One time we locked Maria in her room when my parents were out, and ate cookies.”

Rick popped the pecorino in his mouth. “I’ll bet it was your idea.”

“That I don’t remember, but I’m sure it was Cam’s. Mom and Dad thought he could do no wrong, but I knew better. This wine is good.” She held out her glass to be filled. “A healthy body, but with just enough youth to give it some impertinence.” She looked at Rick for a reaction. “That’s the kind of thing Cam would say. I was never sure if he was serious or not.”

“I hope he wasn’t.”

They ate some cheese and sipped more of the Valcalepio while they talked of wine, a topic about which both of them were interested but not fanatical. She talked about visiting the Napa Valley. He told her that the first vineyards in what would be the United States were planted in the Rio Grande valley. They agreed that prosecco was as good as any French champagne, but decided not to open another bottle.

Cat pushed her plate away and leaned back in the chair, wineglass in hand. After another sip she got to her feet, walked to the refrigerator and smiled back at him. “I have some desert for us, Rick.”

He restrained himself and did not say what he was thinking. “Something light, I hope.”

“Not too heavy. There’s a wonderful bakery right here in the building. You passed it.”

“I had a coffee there a couple days ago.”

“Bruno from the ski shop recommended it, not that he needed to, since the smells from the ovens float up the air shaft into the kitchen. Cam never went in since he didn’t like sweets.”

“But you do. And you don’t seem any the worse for your sweet tooth.”

She giggled and posed as if she were on a fashion-house runway. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. So what is the desert?”

She opened the refrigerator and took out a small dish, which she placed on the table among the cheeses. Chocolate éclairs.

He stared at them. “Cat, I don’t think I can do it. I love chocolate éclairs. Any other time I could eat both of them, but after that meal I just don’t have the space.”

“You know, Rick, I don’t think I do either.” She put them back in the refrigerator. “Room for coffee?”

“Coffee sounds like a good idea.” He got to his feet and picked up his plate. “Let me help clean this up. Do you have some containers for what we didn’t finish? There are at least a couple more good meals here.” He glanced at Cat who was leaning against