“Dinner at Seven”When I awoke we were no longer moving. The carriage was parked under a pine tree that looked like a massive umbrella. In front of us was a cottage and Murray was playing hide-and-seek with a nearby squirrel. Vittorio was nowhere to be seen. I seized the opportunity to search for the key. It was my language lifeline and without it, I was completely lost. Instead of worrying, I inhaled the comforting smell of a fire burning nearby. The scent was a sweet reminder of when my parents used to burn fires in their stone hearth at Christmas time.
When I glanced toward the cottage I noticed the silhouette of a man and woman in the window. The woman was definitely Vittorio minus her scarf. And the profile of the man looked familiar somehow, especially his nose. I continued rummaging
