Chapter Nineteen

Cece breezed into the dining room as Petra was setting plates of roast beef sandwiches and potato salad in front of her guests. Her face fell. "You didn't want the shrimp salad? Well, roast beef is more manly, isn't it?" Her hand trailed across the back of Joe's chair as she passed behind him. "Petra!" she called after seating herself at the head of the table. "Bring me a cup of chamomile. Té manzanilla." She cast a glance toward the men as they wolfed down their sandwiches. "And are the cookies done? Galletas?"

Petra nodded.

Cece waved her hand, shooing her back into the kitchen. "Gracias, Petra."

After the maid scurried away, she rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. "So," she asked Joe, "What do you think of my studio?

Joe looked up from his sandwich and started to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth before remembering he had a napkin. "Very nice. Hard to beat something like that, with so much natural light. I like it."

Cece seemed pleased. "You know, you're welcome in there any time. In fact, maybe you can give me a hand. I need to stretch some canvases, and I could use some help."

"I've never made a canvas before."

"Really? Your wife never asked you to help with hers?"

"No, Elise likes to do things on her own. That way she's sure they get done her way."

Cece considered. "Well, I say why make a job harder than it has to be, although there's really not that much to it. It helps to be strong, so I know you'll be great help. Maybe tonight or tomorrow?"

Brent spoke up before Joe could answer. "We won't be here tonight or tomorrow. You're going to call Elise, remember?"

Before Cece could speak, Petra reappeared with a steaming cup of tea and a matching plate piled high with shortbread cookies. Cece directed her to put the plate in the center of the table and accepted her cup of tea, making a show of stirring and blowing on it so she wouldn't have to speak.

"So when are you going to call?" Brent asked, ignoring Joe's sharp kick under the table.

Cece turned wide green eyes on him. "Just when I said I would, and no sooner. You really don't need to be so anxious. She's not going anywhere right away."

"That's what she told you last night," Joe said in conciliatory tones, "But we wouldn't put it past her to change her mind, especially if she thinks we might be getting close to finding her." He pushed his empty sandwich plate out of the way and reached for a cookie. "It seems like whenever we get close, something happens and she gets away."

"And I don't have all the time in the world," Brent said testily. "I walked away from a job and a wife to come here. If I don't go back pretty soon, I may not be able to go back."

"Call and explain why you're delayed, if that's all you're worried about," Cece said. "This is a nice big house, plenty of privacy."

Brent hesitated. "That's not really the issue."

Cece reached for a cookie and dunked it in her tea. "Is it your accommodations, then? You're welcome to stay as long as you like, no pressure. Eat what you want, drink wine from my wine cellar, watch satellite TV, use my wi-fi...I'm a woman of substance, in case you hadn't noticed, and I want you to consider this your own home."

"We appreciate it," Joe said, not allowing Brent to respond. "But we really can't stay. We just want to know where Elise is so we can get her."

"Of course. She's a lucky woman to have two men who love her so much." Cece stifled a giggle as Joe and Brent exchanged quick, hostile looks. "Why don't I go upstairs right now and call? Then once we've got that behind us, maybe we can talk about more pleasant things." Cradling her teacup and saucer, Cece left the room.