"He's waiting somewhere," Stephanie said. "Just remember, don't be in such a rush! You could be out with Mr. Wrong when Mr. Right finally comes along."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lena said.

"Arturo, my man!" Drew called suddenly. They all fell silent, turning to watch as Arturo strode through the bar.

He stopped at the table.

"Any word on the missing girl?" Grant asked.

"I'm afraid not. We have had so many search parties… officers in from other towns and villages. They've questioned the boyfriend, and he is at a loss, too. Poor boy, he cries almost as much as the girl's mother."

"We're so sorry," Stephanie said.

"They've really checked out the boyfriend's alibi and all?" Doug asked.

They must have all stared at him because he continued defensively with, "Well, in the United States, sadly enough, I know the police always start with the husband or boyfriend. There have been terrible cases in the United States where a man who supposedly loved a woman brutalized her. Of course, wives have killed husbands, too."

"They don't think it was the boy," Arturo said.

"Did he have an alibi?" Suzette asked.

"I think not. Actually, Maria never even showed up to work the day she disappeared. She left her house when her mother was still sleeping. So… she might have gone out anytime in the night, even. It might not have even been morning yet."

"Maybe she'll still turn up," Lena said hopefully.

"Maybe," Arturo agreed. He sounded sad. "Ah, well. You are having dinner in the restaurant here again?"

"Yes, I guess so," Stephanie said, looking around. It seemed as if they were agreed to spend the evening together again.

"Sure, why not?" Clay said.

"There are a few local places. And of course, part of starting this place was to pick up all of the local tourist trade, but… I'll see that the chef prepares a meal especially for you tonight," Arturo said. "I'll have that calamari you like so much brought to the table, Lena. And for you, Suzette, the shrimp pasta dish."

"Sounds lovely, thank you," Suzette told him, and Lena echoed her sentiment.

"Anything else?" Arturo asked.

"Everything here is great," Grant said.

Arturo smiled at last, pleased with the compliment.

" Grazie. I'm pleased you are all happy. The first real test of tourism begins this weekend. We've had guests here, of course, as you've seen, but local so far… some people down from Naples and even Rome. But what we really want is to bring in foreign money, of course!"

With a wave, he left them.

"Well, shall we all tromp on in and have dinner, then?" Doug suggested. "We skipped the whole lunch thing, remember?"

"And actually, that's a sin in Italy," Lena said.

"Let's go eat, then," Stephanie said.

They filed into the restaurant area. As Arturo promised, they were quickly served appetizers, the calamari, and an antipasto. For the area, they were dining fairly early, and the chef was able to come out himself, and bask in their pleasure. The conversation revolved around their work that day, and Stephanie was pleased with herself when she was able to tell them all casually that Grant had said that he'd work with them every afternoon.

"What about for the actual shows?" Suzette asked.

"Sure. I can stage manage for you once they open. We never dig in the dark," Grant said.

Stephanie dug in her bag and found her notes and schedules. "Tomorrow morning, the wardrobe mistress is supposed to bring around the costumes that were ordered. Lena, thank God we have you, because my Italian wouldn't be good enough if we were to encounter any problems. For now, we'll worry about having the right costume for our original roles. Next week, she'll come back and we'll be physically fitted for the other characters so that once we're under way, we can switch characters around so it will be fresh, and keep ourselves stretching."

"That's good—have our tailoring done when Grant isn't here, and work when he is," Lena approved.

Stephanie thought that she sounded a little distracted. She had been looking across the room as she spoke.

Turning around slightly to see what had caught Lena's attention, Stephanie saw that the back door to the restaurant was swinging closed.

She shrugged. "Everything all right?" she asked Lena.

"Of course!"

The pasta bowl had been going around the table. She turned to pass it on to Clay Barton, at her left.

But Clay was watching Lena, and he seemed tense. His eyes, too, strayed to the rear door.

"Clay? Pasta?"

"Sure. Thanks," he said, recovering quickly.

And yet…

Strange. Very strange.

After a few minutes, Lena yawned suddenly. "Wow, guys, forgive me. That was so rude. It wasn't the company, honestly. You know, I'm going to have to forego dessert and coffee. Will you all excuse me?

I'm heading for bed."

"Are you really that tired?" Clay asked her.

"Really." She flashed him a rueful smile. Clay didn't seem assured, but the men stood as Lena rose, bid them all good night, running around the table and kissing them, Italian style.

"Look what's coming. You're going to miss the tiramisu!" Doug warned her.

She grinned, and left.

After that, it seemed that the night broke up quickly. Suzette said she felt like exploring a few of the streets and local places. Doug and Drew volunteered to go with her, and Clay appeared to want to join the group as well.

"Stephanie?" Suzette asked.

She shook her head. "I'm feeling like Lena. Tired."

"Grant?" Suzette asked sweetly.

"I'll take a rain check."

"Hey, just because I'm opting out, you feel free to go," Stephanie said.

"I do feel free to go. It's just a long day for me, digging—and gophering," he said.

"Yeah, like you're a gopher!" Suzette said.

"Hey, I learned that early. In any form of live theater, you do whatever it takes. Steph, if you're heading to the cottage, I'll walk you over," he said.

Suzette flashed Stephanie a glance with a sly, secret smile, convinced that whatever had been going on between them still was.

"Hey, you guys, stick close with our little Franco-American hottie, huh?" Stephanie teased the others.

"We won't leave her for a second," Drew assured her, a little too solemnly.

"What if I find the love of my life?" Suzette demanded.

"Too bad. He'll have to wait," Doug said.

"What if you two find the loves of your lives?" Suzette asked.

"Wow. Hmm. We'll have to think about that one," Drew said, laughing. "Oh, not to worry. The chances of us both getting lucky in a small town like this are so far out of the spectrum! And Clay will be around, right?"

"I'll be around," Clay said. "Speaking of which, one of us should have walked Lena to her little place. I think I'll go check on her first."

"Steph and I will come with you," Grant said.

"We will?" Stephanie said, irritated just because he had answered for her.

He arched a brow at her, and she was further annoyed to realize that she had sounded sharp.

"Sorry, just thought I might volunteer on my own," she murmured.

"Maybe we should come, too," Drew said.

"No, you guys go on out and have a good time," Clay advised. "I think the three of us will be force enough."

The others started out the front and Stephanie, Clay, and Grant rose, heading out the back to the beach.

The night was another balmy, beautiful sight.

"Full moon in less than a week," Clay noted.

They could hear the waves rushing in, and it seemed that a very gentle light, with just the touch of a red-gold glow, bathed the area.

"This stretch of Italy is simply gorgeous," Stephanie murmured. Their conversation seemed absurdly casual.

"That one is Lena's, just there—I think," Grant said.

"How do you know?" Stephanie asked him.

He arched a brow at her and again pointed. "Because that one is mine, over there. When I checked in, Giovanni showed me the place, and pointed out the cottages where I could find all of you."

"Ah," she murmured, feeling a little rebuffed. She hadn't been accusing him of anything. Had she?

Clay walked ahead of them, heading for Lena's door. He knocked on it firmly. They waited, and nothing happened.

"There's a buzzer," Grant pointed out.

Clay punched the little doorbell.

This time, they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Then, Lena opened the door.

It appeared that she had hastily thrown a terry robe over a far more revealing night garment in some kind of turquoise silk and gauze. Her hair was definitely mussed, and she appeared flushed and nervous.

She stared at the three of them. "Yes?"

"We were just checking to see that you got back okay," Grant said.

She sighed. "I'm fine. Just fine. As you can see."

"Right," Clay murmured. Stephanie noted that he was looking at her little cottage strangely, as if he were trying to sense whether everything was really all right or not.

"I'm okay, honest!" Lend said. "I'm tired. I was actually in bed."

"So, you're not inviting us in, huh?" Clay said lightly.

"No, no, no—you may definitely not come in! I'm going back to bed. I'm sorry—how rude. Thank you all for checking on me. But please, go away. Hey, my director is here. And I intend to do good work for her in the morning, so…"

"We're out of here, then," Grant said. "Good night."

"Good night. And really. Thank you all for caring," Lena said.

They turned and started to walk away. Clay Barton paused on the path, looking back.