Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

furniture?”
    “You know the answer to that question. After they grow the tree, they cut it down, then mill it, and they have to plant the cotton seeds, pick the cotton, and make it into our dumb fabric, whatever it was called.”
    “Bargelle.”
    “Gesundheit.”
    Mary smiled, padding into the kitchen, which was typically small for the city, but lovely and grown-up, with black granite counters, windowed cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. She could feel her worries about the Gardner case recede as she went to the sink, her favorite spot. During the daytime, a mullioned window over the basin flooded with sunlight, because of its southern exposure, and she was pretty sure she could get tan off the reflection of the refrigerator.
    “You having normal or chamomile?” Anthony picked up the tea kettle, then put it on the stove and turned on the burner.
    “Normal.” Mary grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, then a box of Lipton Tea.
    “Nothing but the best, eh?”
    “Damn right. An old-school, flow-through tea bag.” Mary went to the drawer, pulled out two napkins, and set them on the round cherrywood table, then crossed to the refrigerator to fetch the Half & Half. Anthony was getting two teaspoons and setting them on the napkins, but she didn’t even have to turn around to know that, their domestic routine was so familiar. “You want anything to eat?”
    “God, no.”
    “Me, neither.”
    “How’s your fig tree doing?”
    “Lemme check.” Mary picked up the pitcher next to the sink, filled it with water, and sprinkled some gently on the fig tree she was starting in a container on the windowsill, next to smaller clay pots of basil, rosemary, and bay leaves, which made her feel as if she actually gardened. Anthony had given her the fig tree, and its young leaves sprouted a fresh yellow-green, too floppy yet to be strong. The figs were still green, too, shaped like miniature hot air balloons.
    “Is it your paradise?” Anthony asked, because the tree grew Paradiso, or Genova, figs, allegedly named for an old man in Genova, who used to say, “this is my paradise,” when he sat under his fig tree, eating its fruit with bread. Mary had no idea if the story was true, but she loved it just the same.
    “Yes, it is my paradise,” she answered him, as part of their call and response. “Someday I’m going to be a farmer and have a grove of figs, or an orchard, or whatever you call the whole bunch of fig trees. How great would that be?”
    “Great. How are the figs? Can we eat any yet?”
    “No, not for a month or so.” Mary watered the basil, but happened to glance back and see something bright on a fig leaf at the base of the tree, near the soil. She set down the pitcher, reached out, and plucked it off, only to see that it was a diamond ring. For a minute, she didn’t understand, then she gasped and turned around, astounded to find Anthony behind her on his bended knee, looking up at her.
    “Hi, honey,” he said, with a shaky smile.
    “ What? ” Mary felt stunned. She held a gold ring with a round, sparkling diamond, but she couldn’t believe her eyes. “What is this?”
    “Mary, I love you. You’re my best friend, and you really are the love of my life.” Anthony’s deep voice wavered. “More than that, I feel that we are so good together, so close, that we’re somehow, of each other. And that we have, over the years, become each other’s family. ”
    Mary swallowed hard, trying to process what he was saying. Trying to understand how she should react. Trying to figure out what to say. Because what Anthony was saying was so right, and so true, and she loved him to the marrow, but she didn’t know if she was ready to get married.
    “You know what I’m saying? You know what I mean? You’re in me, you’re inside, a part of me.” Anthony’s hand went to his heart. “In here, and I love who you are and everything you are. You’re sweet, funny, smart, and you’re stronger than you think. And