The room currently held nearly five short cords of wood that were totally desiccated--dry and hard as hell. It should burn furiously. I wondered if there was another concealed door to the rear of the building to allow the room to be filled without parading through the main dining room.To the right lay another room. It was closed with a heavy door. It featured a low ceiling and was quite cool, being carved from the solid rock of the mountain. An entire wall was covered in huge barrels raised up on stands. Six long racks held hundreds of bottles. Thick sheets of dust and cobwebs covered everything. Another note to self--purchase a battery-operated vacuum cleaner with a soft brush head and a good dust filter. No, scratch that. Find an auction house that employed a wine conservator and get someone out here. Fast. Let THEM deal with the filth. Just for the hell of it, I picked a bottle that felt as if it still had liquid within it. I brushed away the clinging mat of debris and took it out. I thought they were in the hall.I couldn’t complain as Puno deserved this moment because I wondered when she would again get an opportunity to meet my daughter. I observed even my daughter was enjoying her company. Well I just let them be as they were and came back to the hall and sat down. Plenty of people came and complimented me for how beautiful my daughter was and I just smiled and politely thanked them. After some hours I felt the need to take my quota so it was time to go home.So I strode out of the hall to find them. But they were no longer there. Then I glanced towards the lawn and saw them seated on the chairs and enjoying dinner. I noticed it was my daughter who was doing most of the talking. She had taken to Puno like fish to water and Puno seemed to be enjoying whatever she was saying. I wondered when had I given my daughter so much attention. Again I was overcome with guilt. Taking a deep breath I strode towards them. Seeing me approaching Puno started to get up but I.
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