Free Sheila Connolly - Reunion with Death by Sheila Connolly Page B

Gilbert was smart—he bought a place here when things were cheap. So he lives here full-time now?”
    “I do indeed,” a male voice said behind me, and I turned to find the professor standing there—just a bit too close. “What I said earlier about the winters was one reason, but the truth is that I fell in love with Tuscany when I was an impressionable young man, and my affections have never wavered. It is a beautiful region, don’t you think? And you are?”
    Here we go, I said to myself, bracing myself against a blast of charm. “I’m Laura Shumway. You may have overheard that I never managed to take one of your literature courses at the college. My loss, I gather. Tell me, is there a Mrs. Gilbert?”
    “Not at this moment, although there is more than one ex, I’m afraid. I have never taken well to fidelity.”
    I wasn’t going to touch that comment. “Tell me, Professor—you must have seen many changes in academia during your time at the college. For better or for worse?”
    He looked briefly disappointed that I didn’t want to play his game, but he rallied quickly. “I applaud the return to frankness. Certainly the Renaissance masters were no prudes, and I’m sure you’re aware of some of Shakespeare’s bawdier bits. Only now may we talk about it openly …”
    Points to you, Professor. I had asked a neutral question about teaching and he had diverted it right back to sex. “Excuse me, I think I need another glass of wine.”
    Sharon was hanging on Professor Gilbert’s every word. Nobody noticed my departure.
    The head table from the play had been left in place, and at dinner it was occupied by Barbara, Gerry, honored guest Anthony Gilbert, Jean, Jane, and a couple of their closest friends. Once again I was struck by the medieval aspect of it: they were the royalty here and the rest of us were the hoi polloi . At least we all got the same food, which, as usual, was simple fare excellently prepared. Accompanied by plenty of wine. Over the course of the meal, the lusty glint in some of the women’s eyes morphed into an inebriated stare. Funny—nobody until this evening had overindulged, despite the ample opportunities. Throw in the good—or bad?—professor, and restraint went out the window. I sincerely hoped that he would take himself back to whatever hole he had crawled from and leave us to our activities. There was a reason no men had been invited along on this trip: their presence changed the dynamic of the group, not necessarily in a good way.
    Dinner went on, and on … The wine flowed, and after a couple of hours the staff brought out something special, a superior local vintage, and it would have been rude to refuse it. It lived up to its billing, and I realized that if I didn’t stop I’d be seeing double. I noticed that a few people had drifted out discreetly (and wisely), but the head table was still going strong.
    “I think I’m going to turn in,” I told my tablemates. “We’re looking at a series of Medici castles tomorrow, right?”
    “What? Oh, castles, right. Good night, Laura.”
    I picked my way out of the room, placing my feet carefully on the stone stairs. Outside I breathed deeply of the scented air. Better. The atmosphere inside had gotten a little thick, although with what I wasn’t sure. Lust? I giggled at the thought—and was glad I had decided to call it a night. I made my way up the hill to my door, but once there I was reluctant to go inside. The weather had been warming gradually over the past few days, and now the evening was cool but not unpleasant, so I sat down on the patio chair and just listened for a while. I could hear the sounds of happy voices and clinking glasses from down the hill. Funny—in a way I felt like the kid who hadn’t been invited to the party. Down below there was still light and conversation, and I was on the outside looking in. But by my choice, I reminded myself.
    As I sat, people began straggling out, taking their various paths