Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno #4)(89)

“And here I thought you were a hobbit, who liked to stay in his warm, safe hobbit hole in Cambridge, and disdained adventures.”

Gabriel sniffed his dissatisfaction. “I look more like Aragorn than a hobbit.”

“Yes, I suppose you do.” She kissed away his frown.

“We haven’t a moment to lose. You should call Greg Matthews immediately.” Gabriel took hold of the stroller and pointed Clare in the direction of their rooms. “I’m going to call one of the kilt makers in Edinburgh and order a kilt for Clare.”

“I didn’t know the Emersons had a tartan.”

“They don’t, but there’s a Clark tartan. She’ll dress in their plaid, in honor of Richard and Grace. And there’s a Mitchell tartan, too, I think. We should have a kilt made to honor your father.”

“I’d like that.” Julia took hold of his arm. “But as we plan for Scotland, there’s still one more thing.”

“Anything.”

Julia smiled sadly. “The memento mori. Before we invite Aaron and Rachel to house-sit, shouldn’t we be sure the thief won’t come back?”

Gabriel looked down at Clare, who looked up at him. She smiled, exposing her gums.

Gabriel grinned back.

When he turned to Julia, he was somber. “We still have the object. We still have a sketch of the intruder. As far as the Cambridge police are concerned, it’s an open investigation. I won’t give up making inquiries, but so far, I’ve found nothing. I’m inclined to think that the thief would have returned to the house by now. Either he couldn’t find a collector for the artwork we have or he’s been deterred by the security system.”

“So Rachel and Aaron will be safe?”

“By the time they arrive, it will be September. The break-in was back in December. The chances of the thief returning would be very small indeed.”

“Good.” Julia touched his biceps. “Maybe we should keep the memento mori, just for a while. Then donate it anonymously to Palazzo Riccardi. I’m sure they’d be happy to have it.”

“Yes, they would.” Gabriel began pushing the stroller, with Julianne at his side.

Clare turned around in her seat and pointed a chubby finger at Gabriel. “Dadadadada.”

Gabriel practically tripped over himself, he stopped so fast. He came around to the front of the stroller and crouched in front of Clare.

“Dada.” He pointed to himself. “Dada.”

“Dada.” Clare repeated. She moved her head back and forth. “Dadadada.”

“That’s right, Principessa.” He pointed to himself once again. “Dada.”

“Dadadada,” Clare repeated. She clapped her hands and grabbed her bunny and began to chew on it.

“Dada,” Gabriel whispered. It was more of a prayer than a name.

“I’ve been trying to get her to say Mama first.” Julia touched Gabriel’s shoulder. “Of course Clare, like her father, has her own ideas.”

“I think Clare, like her mother, has her own ideas.” He ruffled Clare’s hair and straightened.

“That was intense.” He pressed his lips together for a moment. (And if you had said his eyes were watering, he would have told you it was his allergies.) “Where are we going? I’ve lost track of what we were doing.”

Julia took hold of the stroller. “We’re going to our rooms so I can call Greg Matthews. And then I’m going to take a video of Clare calling you Dada. We can save it for posterity and send it to our families.”

“Perfect.” Gabriel fell into step with Julia and the stroller, keeping a watchful eye on Clare.

In that moment, with his family, with the name his beloved daughter had blessed him with, and with the prospect of a new adventure in Scotland together, Gabriel had never been happier or more hopeful. No matter what challenges or dangers he and Julianne faced, they would do so as a family.

And that was Gabriel’s promise.

Fin.