might-have-beens, and she knew it, but Abby couldn't help wondering what this drive through the
darkness would have been like if they had been truly lovers. The silence between them then would have been one of intimacy.
When two people were attuned to each other, often there was no need for words, she thought sadly. And there would be the
possibility of a baby, a sweet secret for them to gloat over, instead of a bone of contention.
She smothered a sigh, and rallied her flagging spirits. After all, she was going to a party, for heaven's sake, even if she didn't particularly like the woman who was giving it. And if her physical estrangement from Vasco was a matter of gossip among the
neighbours, then she would have to do her damnedest to play the part of the radiant bride, and convince them all they were
wrong to believe in rumours.
You used to like going to the theatre, she told herself derisively. Well, tonight you're centre stage…
Certainly at first sight Laracoca might have been a stage set. Light poured from every window in the rambling single-storey
building, and lanterns were strung along the broad veranda, and in the encircling trees. A number of cars and vehicles were
parked, to Abby's amazement, destroying her supposition that only a handful of people would make the effort to attend.
Luisa was waiting to greet them, resplendent in taffeta the colour of peonies, her brother-in-law Gerulito beside her. He was
considerably her junior, and wore a vaguely resentful air.
'So here you are at last!' Luisa included Abby briefly in her smile, before linking her arm possessively through Vasco's. 'Gerulito, take Dona Abigail and get her a drink. She looks as if she could need one.'
It took all Abby's fortitude to keep her own smile pinned in place. All the years of enduring snide comments from Della and her
mother were standing her in better stead than she realised, she thought, as she calmly accepted Gerulito's awkward offer to
escort her into the house.
The interior of Laracoca was a revelation. Luisa had clearly spared neither time nor money on creating a luxurious environment
for herself. But however lavish the furnishings, the overall effect was hardly homelike, Abby thought as she waited for Gerulito
to bring her a glass of fruit punch.
When he returned, she said, 'This is a charming house.'
He shrugged. 'It is adequate. Too many rooms have been added without thought over the years to render it harmonious.'
Abby recalled that he'd wanted to be an architect. She said, 'Well, you'd know more about that than I would.'
'Yes.' His mouth curled peevishly. 'But such knowledge is no longer of any use to me.'
Abby sipped her punch, trying to think of some way to distract him from his grievance. She said, 'I suppose you're harvesting
your beans. I hope it's a good crop.'
'The temperão ?' He shrugged. 'I suppose so. We have a manager, an American, who sees to all that for us. The plantation was João's life, but it is not mine. And I cannot sell it without Luisa's agreement.' He pursed his lips. 'Perhaps she will consent now that…' He stopped abruptly.
'Now that…?' Abby prompted.
His sallow skin had flushed. ' Desculpe . It is of no importance.' He looked deeply embarrassed.
'You mean now that Vasco is married,' she suggested coolly, and he squirmed.
'Forgive me, Dona Abigail. I spoke without thought. It is just…' He paused again.
'Just that it would have been convenient from all points of view,' she supplied, then relented. 'If you sell the plantation, will you go back to Sao Paulo?'
It was the right question. His face lit up, and his stilted English relaxed into a broken mixture of Portuguese as he told her
enthusiastically about the firm he had been working for, about the projects he had been engaged on. He was clearly even more
of a fish out of water in Amazonia than she was, Abby thought, a certain sympathy for Gerulito welling up inside her.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luisa
darkness would have been like if they had been truly lovers. The silence between them then would have been one of intimacy.
When two people were attuned to each other, often there was no need for words, she thought sadly. And there would be the
possibility of a baby, a sweet secret for them to gloat over, instead of a bone of contention.
She smothered a sigh, and rallied her flagging spirits. After all, she was going to a party, for heaven's sake, even if she didn't particularly like the woman who was giving it. And if her physical estrangement from Vasco was a matter of gossip among the
neighbours, then she would have to do her damnedest to play the part of the radiant bride, and convince them all they were
wrong to believe in rumours.
You used to like going to the theatre, she told herself derisively. Well, tonight you're centre stage…
Certainly at first sight Laracoca might have been a stage set. Light poured from every window in the rambling single-storey
building, and lanterns were strung along the broad veranda, and in the encircling trees. A number of cars and vehicles were
parked, to Abby's amazement, destroying her supposition that only a handful of people would make the effort to attend.
Luisa was waiting to greet them, resplendent in taffeta the colour of peonies, her brother-in-law Gerulito beside her. He was
considerably her junior, and wore a vaguely resentful air.
'So here you are at last!' Luisa included Abby briefly in her smile, before linking her arm possessively through Vasco's. 'Gerulito, take Dona Abigail and get her a drink. She looks as if she could need one.'
It took all Abby's fortitude to keep her own smile pinned in place. All the years of enduring snide comments from Della and her
mother were standing her in better stead than she realised, she thought, as she calmly accepted Gerulito's awkward offer to
escort her into the house.
The interior of Laracoca was a revelation. Luisa had clearly spared neither time nor money on creating a luxurious environment
for herself. But however lavish the furnishings, the overall effect was hardly homelike, Abby thought as she waited for Gerulito
to bring her a glass of fruit punch.
When he returned, she said, 'This is a charming house.'
He shrugged. 'It is adequate. Too many rooms have been added without thought over the years to render it harmonious.'
Abby recalled that he'd wanted to be an architect. She said, 'Well, you'd know more about that than I would.'
'Yes.' His mouth curled peevishly. 'But such knowledge is no longer of any use to me.'
Abby sipped her punch, trying to think of some way to distract him from his grievance. She said, 'I suppose you're harvesting
your beans. I hope it's a good crop.'
'The temperão ?' He shrugged. 'I suppose so. We have a manager, an American, who sees to all that for us. The plantation was João's life, but it is not mine. And I cannot sell it without Luisa's agreement.' He pursed his lips. 'Perhaps she will consent now that…' He stopped abruptly.
'Now that…?' Abby prompted.
His sallow skin had flushed. ' Desculpe . It is of no importance.' He looked deeply embarrassed.
'You mean now that Vasco is married,' she suggested coolly, and he squirmed.
'Forgive me, Dona Abigail. I spoke without thought. It is just…' He paused again.
'Just that it would have been convenient from all points of view,' she supplied, then relented. 'If you sell the plantation, will you go back to Sao Paulo?'
It was the right question. His face lit up, and his stilted English relaxed into a broken mixture of Portuguese as he told her
enthusiastically about the firm he had been working for, about the projects he had been engaged on. He was clearly even more
of a fish out of water in Amazonia than she was, Abby thought, a certain sympathy for Gerulito welling up inside her.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luisa
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