Chapter 47

A few days later, on a clear afternoon, I was sitting in the garden soaking up the sun, leafing through a book on knitting clothes for babies, the black tea Lorenzo had brewed for me himself resting on the small table beside me. The roses in the courtyard were at their peak, deep reds and pale pinks blooming layer upon layer along the branches in the afternoon light, a bee or two drifting lazily through the flowers now and then.