Page 137 of Lethal Obsession

“This is just the first tasting.” She hands me a spoon. “Then we walk a little, then we take wine and tapas, and maybe later we take a little more ice cream, no?” She shrugs. “It is a day of small luxuries.” She smiles at Teresa. “I ordered one for you, too.”

“You are going to kill my waistline, Seline.” Teresa returns her smile. “That’s the second time you’ve bought me ice cream—the next one is definitely on me. I’m just going to make that call,” she says, waving her phone at me as she heads toward the opposite end of the shop, where the other entrance opens onto the main road.

“Only one keeper today?” Seline frowns as she watches Teresa leave. “Don’t they usually travel in pairs?”

“I don’t need two every time I go out in public, especially when I’m just meeting my friend for ice cream.”

“You should be more careful, Ofelia.” She glances around the crowded heladería. “Take it from a Gypsy: places like this are hunting grounds for pickpockets.”

“Speaking of that.” I put my spoon down. “I’m sorry about what my grandfather said to you at my performance, Seline. It was very rude. Even if he didn’t mean to offend you, I know you were hurt by his words.”

“Ah.” She lifts a shoulder, though she doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Gypsies have a bad reputation. Sometimes well deserved, if I am honest. Much like Russians, no?”

I can’t help but laugh at that.

“Is this pistachio?” I change the topic, and Seline smiles, touching my hand briefly in understanding.

“Yes, it is. Delicious, no? And afterward, I think we should go to that tapas place up at the top of the Albaicín. You know, the expensive one with the view of the Alhambra.”

“Really?” I wrinkle my nose. “They charge so much for drinks, and you have to actually pay for the tapas.” Most bars in Granada offer free tapas with each drink. I don’t mind paying for the more gourmet varieties, but the tourist bars overlooking the Alhambra are a blatant rip-off.

“Sometimes we should all be tourists in our own city. It is how we keep a sense of wonder. And like I said, today is a day of small luxuries.” She glances around the heladería, frowning. “Where is your Teresa?”

“She’ll be back, don’t worry.” I look regretfully at my fast-dwindling ice cream. “Can’t we stay here and order more? I just walked down that hill, and now you want me to walk all the way back up, just for an overpriced drink and the same view I get from my terrace.”

“The walk will take away the calories you just ate, and such adventures are exactly what life is made of,” Seline reprimands me. “Oh, fine,” she says, when I give her a skeptical look. “If you come with me for an overpriced drink at my favorite tourist bar, I will read your cards. Deal?”

“Sold.” I close my eyes, savoring the last mouthful of ice cream. “But only just.” When I open my eyes, Teresa’s gelato is slowly melting by the third seat. “You should eat that.” I nod at it as I glance around. “She must be caught up on the phone. Let me just find her so I can tell her where we’re headed. We can always buy another gelato for her to take with.” I wink at Seline. “And maybe one for me, too. You French ladies might like one delicate scoop, but I am made of stronger stuff.”

“I will wait for you here,” she says. She gives me a rather worried glance. “Be careful, Ofelia.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Aren’t you the one always telling me I should be more independent? I won’t be a minute.” I go to the front entrance and push open the heavy glass door onto the main road. The busy footpath and fast-moving buses and scooters are almost a shock after the peaceful pedestrian cobblestones of the Albaicín only one street away. Sometimes I think Granada is like two separate cities, one a medieval labyrinth of old stone, gardens, and music and the other a modern cacophony of commerce and traffic.

I glance either way down the road, but there’s no sign of Teresa anywhere.

She must have gone back around to the rear alley to talk without all the noise.

A group of Gypsy woman approach me, waving sprigs of rosemary in my face, asking me to buy it to ward off evil. They’re always on this road, preying on tourists.

“No, gracias.” I hastily reopen the door to the heladería and move back through the throng at the counter to where Seline is standing by our table, peering anxiously through the crowd.

“Teresa must have come around the back,” I say as I approach. “I can’t see her.”

“We should stay here then, until she returns.”

“It’s fine.” I smile at her. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Seline. Teresa is probably just outside. It’s so crowded in here, let’s just wait out back for her.” I push open the door and step out onto the quiet cobblestones with a sense of relief. “I love that place,” I say, “but it’s so busy.”

“But worth it,” she says, slipping her arm through mine.

“So worth it.” We move away from the entrance, wandering down the quiet alley, the shops nearly all closed now for siesta.

“You didn’t need to apologize for your grandfather, you know.” Seline glances at me, her eyes softening. “It was wrong of me to take offense. I think that sometimes I feel a little jealous of you, Ofelia.”

“You do?” I glance at her in surprise.

“Oui.” For once her shrug has no hint of Gallic arrogance. “You are lucky to have a family that cares so much for your well-being,” she says quietly as we move slowly from one shop window to another, lingering before each to look at the artisanal goods on display. “My family is not like this.” Her eyes darken. “But Duval women know how to take care of themselves. That is something we all learn early, if we are to survive.” She glances around the empty alleyway, frowning. “Your Teresa still is not here. You should call her.”

I reach into my back pocket for my phone, then frown. “That’s odd.” I pat the other one. “I must have left my phone on the table.”