together, hardly able to believe she was making the same argument Naldo had made.
“She must have been a pretty devoted employee. The De Leons are famous for being one of the best employers anywhere. The staff are like family, no?”
“Absolutely. That’s why they keep the same people for so long.”
“And I guess that’s how Robert De Leon kept his affair with your mother a secret for so many years. No one wanted to risk their comfy perch by blowing the lid off the chicken coop.”
“Blowing the lid off? Please. You’re acting like there’s an actual story here. Who cares what Robert De Leon was doing in his spare time? Why on earth is that anyone’s business but his?”
The cool, sweet, iced tea did nothing to extinguish her simmering indignation. She’d like to crush this snotty little jerk under her sandal.
Why are you defending Robert De Leon? He treated your mother as a mistress. He could have married her, but he didn’t.
“Come on. We both know they had an affair.”
“My mother would have told me, and she never said a word.”
That still hurt. But it confirmed that her mother wanted to keep her love life a secret, and it was Anna’s duty to respect that.
“And now you and Naldo are continuing the legacy. A legacy of passion.” The green eyes narrowed to vicious slits.
Anna narrowly resisted the urge to throw her iced tea at him. “Naldo and I are working out some business matters. Why don’t you go write about something that actually matters? Isabela De Leon came to you with this, didn’t she?”
“I cannot confirm, or deny…” He winked at her.
“I thought so.” She slammed some money down on the table, annoyed that she had to pay for him since she’d invited him. At least she had the information she was looking for, not that she hadn’t known it from the start. “Thanks for your time,” she muttered. Then she marched off down the street, bristling with irritation at the reporter, Isabela, Naldo and anyone else who wanted to make her life more of a mess than it already was.
She wasn’t sure if Isabela had hinted at an affair between her and Naldo, or if she’d given that information herself with her guilty blushes. This meeting was probably not a good idea, but at least she’d learned that Isabela was the source.
She’d been sure Isabela had planted the article, but why would she want to have the family scandals blabbed all over town? Did she want to hurt Naldo? Was it part of her plan to force him to sell the estate?
Anger simmered inside her at the idea that Naldo’s own sister was trying to undermine the estate.
But why should she care? It wasn’t as if Naldo meant something to her.
If anything, he deserved it.
Naldo never came back to get her news about the true source of the article. When she stopped by the house to tell him it was his sister who’d gone to the papers, she learned he’d gone to a polo match near Ocala. Right now he was probably out partying, with an heiress on each arm.
Tom had delivered the gems to her the previous evening and stored them back in the dark attic as she requested. He gave her a wary look along with his polite greeting when she said “hi” to him at the house. Even the usually cheery Pilar seemed cool.
Back at the cottage, she folded up a white cotton sweater of her mother’s and put it in yet another pile to go in the van. Why couldn’t she seem to throw anything away? What was she going to do with all this stuff? Maybe being adrift and rootless, with no idea what the future held, was turning her into a pack rat, clutching at anything that might bring a sense of security.
She slept a while, then got up to pack just as light was breaking over the horizon. She turned the air conditioner off-why not enjoy the balmy Florida heat while she still could? It was probably fifty degrees in Boston right now.
Without the whirring of the A/C, the chirping and warbling of thousands of birds began to fill her ears. She’d never paid much attention to birds while she lived here. She took their gentle morning wake-up song for granted, along with the rich scented air and the warm, year-round sun.
Since then she’d lived so long surrounded by the roar of traffic and the whup-whup of early morning sirens, that she had a burning curiosity to see what kinds of birds were making that pretty music.
She shoved up the old sash window.
Wow. There was that air again. So much of it, fresh and clean and clear and perfumed with oranges. She inhaled deeply, letting it fill her lungs and send its invigorating, scented oxygen zipping into her bloodstream.
Leaving the first time had been easy. Leaving again-for good-was going to be a whole different story.
The sound of an engine growling close by made her crane her neck around to the front of the house. She’d taken to parking her van on the grass in case anyone needed access to the polo arena. Who ever heard of a private polo arena? She shook her head.
The engine stopped and she heard a door slam.
Great. Yet another opportunity for Naldo to catch her in her jammies. She grabbed a sky blue dress, another one of her mother’s, off the hanger in the closet, and was still switching it for her pajamas when she heard the loud knock.
“Coming!”
She shimmied into the pretty summer dress, sure that at any second the door would fling open to admit her impatient and imperious guest.
But it didn’t. Frowning, she slid on some sandals and hurried downstairs.
Naldo was actually waiting outside the door?
She opened up. Sure enough, it was him. Resplendent in perfectly pressed khakis and a white shirt. “To what do I owe this not entirely unexpected pleasure?” She gestured for him to enter.
He gave her a look so strange that she almost tripped on the threshold.
Hurt. That’s what she saw in his eyes.
Not the flashing glints of anger she’d grown quite used to, but something deeper, darker and possibly far more dangerous.
He took a step into the kitchen, unfurled a paper that he’d carried under his arm and laid it on the table.
“You already showed me the article,” she said softly. He still hadn’t spoken.
“Read it.”
She picked up the paper.
Legacy of Passion. The front-page headline punched her in the gut and stole her breath. The paper crinkled as her fists tightened around it.
Daughter of De Leon employee continues tradition: Affair with the Boss.
Her heart stopped. Or at least that’s what it felt like. She looked up at Naldo. “Wha-?”
“Keep reading.”
A conversation with Anna Marcus, daughter of De Leon estate employee Leticia Marcus, sheds fresh light on the legal skirmish over estate land reported in yesterday’s paper. Ms. Marcus, pretty, blond and twenty-six, is back in town to handle her mother’s affairs-and to have one of her own.
“This is complete nonsense,” she spat.
“Really? He heard it from you.” Naldo looked at her coolly.
“No way. He totally made this up. It’s crazy.” Her heart thudded.
“Oh, is it? Now you seem to be the one who has a problem with the truth.”
“I would hardly say we’re having an affair.” The newsprint blurred and jumbled before her eyes. She had no idea what she and Naldo were having. Or weren’t having. Her throat tightened.
“Exactly what would you call it? And how do you explain the quotes?”
“What quotes?”
“Read on.”
She and Naldo have a passionate past. “Sure, we spent some time fooling around,” admits the bold and spunky Ms. Marcus. “Naldo and I are both adults. What we do is our own business.”
“That was quoted completely out of context!” Her hand flew to her mouth and the paper sagged in the other.
