He waited until Cameron and I had tried each other’s dishes and given them rave reviews—which was easy to do, because both the duck and the venison were sensational—before he returned to the topic of Bree.
“We let her use our guest room while she was here,” he said. “To tell you the truth, we were a little concerned about her. She seemed kind of . . . moody.” He paused to savor a forkful of caramelized leeks before going on. “When we asked how things were going in Takapuna, she didn’t have much to say. Never talked about her grandpa or school or anything. She used to be as perky as a fantail, but now?” He shook his head. “Do you know what’s up with her, Lori?”
“A lot,” I said. “More than any eighteen-year-old should have to handle on her own. First of all, her grandfather died six weeks ago. . . .”
Angelo’s expressive brown eyes became somber as I told him and Renee everything Cameron and I had learned about Bree’s splintered family. When I finished, Renee folded her arms, tossed her head, and let out an explosive sigh.
“I knew it,” she said. “I knew there was trouble at home. The minute I saw her hair, I knew there was trouble at home. Didn’t I tell you there was trouble at home, Angelo?”
“You did,” Angelo acknowledged. “Poor kid. Sounds like her dad was a real piece of work. He wasn’t in the picture when we knew her. Just her grandma and grandpa.”
“And she still doesn’t know her dad’s dead?” Renee inquired.
“Not unless she’s gone back to Takapuna,” I replied.
“She told Renee she’d never go back to Takapuna,” Angelo informed me.
“Which is another reason I knew there was trouble at home,” said Renee.
“She stayed with us for ten days,” Angelo continued, “then she quit her job and took off for Wellington. That was about . . . what?” He glanced at his wife for confirmation. “Three weeks ago?”
“More like a month,” Renee corrected him.
“She left with two Finnish girls she met at The Hobbit,” said Angelo.
“Kitta and Kati,” said Renee. “Ringers.”
“Lord of the Rings fans,” I said knowledgeably.
“Fanatics,” Renee corrected me. “Do you know what they call Mount Ngauruhoe? Mount Doom. And Ruapehu, according to them, is Mordor. I ask you. . . .” She clucked her tongue and peered heavenward.
“Kitta and Kati are hardcore Ringers,” Angelo agreed. “The only reason they came to New Zealand was to visit movie locations. To tell you the truth, it’s not a bad idea. The crazy director is using the whole country as a soundstage—North Island and South Island both. He’s filming in all sorts of back-of-beyond places you’d never see on a normal tour.”
“Kitta and Kati have seen more of New Zealand than we have,” Renee added.
Angelo nodded. “When they were done climbing around on Ruapehu—”
“Mordor,” Renee interjected, rolling her eyes.
“—they headed for the film studios down in Wellington,” Angelo went on, “and Bree tagged along with them. We gave her a few bucks and told her to have a good time. It beats scrubbing toilets, and if you don’t have fun when you’re young—”
“—you’ll have fun later on and your husband won’t like it,” said Renee.
I groaned. “We’ll never be able to find Bree in Wellington. It’s a big city, isn’t it?”
“It’s the capital city,” said Angelo. “But New York it isn’t. And we can tell you exactly where the girls are staying because we gave them the keys to our place.”
I blinked at him, nonplussed. “You gave three teenaged girls the keys to your condo?”
“Kitta and Kati aren’t teenagers,” said Renee. “If you ask me, they’re a little long in the tooth to be chasing elves, but”—she shrugged—“to each her own.”
“They’re nice women,” Angelo declared. “Sure, they’re a little whacky when it comes to Tolkien, but they’ve got their feet on the ground. We wouldn’t have encouraged Bree to go with them if we thought they were bad news.”
“We rent out the condo in the winter,” said Renee, “but our tenants left early, so we figured, why not let the girls use it? It’s better to have someone there than to leave the place empty.”
“And it beats sleeping on a park bench,” Angelo put in.
“Have you been in touch with Bree since she left?” I asked.
Angelo shook his head. “You know how it is. When a girl’s having fun, she doesn’t stop to think that people might want to hear from her.”
“Have you tried calling her?” I asked.
“Can’t,” said Renee. “We don’t have phone service at the condo.”
“Renee and I use cell phones,” said Angelo. “You’d think Bree would have one, wouldn’t you? Most kids walk around with cell phones glued to their ears these days, but not Bree.”
“She probably can’t afford one,” I said. “Her father liked to gamble.”
“A real piece of work,” said Angelo, pursing his lips in disgust. “Bree deserves better than that.”