His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. That is, until I investigated Iovelli-Alberti in the Fourteenth Century!” They reached a part of the subdivision dubbed “The Treehouse”, a popular hangout for edgy teens who smoked joints in its foundation pits. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned.
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