It seemed they were both determined not to bring up the unpleasantness of the night before, and the subject of Florence Adams’ death never came up. Instead, they discussed the up-and-coming music star with the unusual name, Elvis—and yes, Rosa thought him to be ravishingly attractive.
Gloria looked up from the magazine which had fallen open on her lap. “I look at you and think, if I don’t get married, I’d really like to do something with my life. I just can’t think of what. I lack purpose.”
“You can do something with your life even if you do marry.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. It’s just, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Did you always want to join the police?”
Rosa considered her cousin’s question. Had she? It wasn’t something she’d thought about when she’d lived in California in the forties. What had she wanted back then?
“I don’t think I knew what I wanted until after the war.” She’d spent several weeks feeling entirely out of place in London and was almost crippled by the pain of missing Miguel. It took serious effort to keep the British “stiff upper lip” in working order. But after a year of mourning her losses, she rediscovered her love of London.
“I remember watching my mother solve a case. She’d recruited me to help at her office of Lady Gold Investigations.” Rosa knew it was her mother’s attempt at bringing her back to life and out of her mental slump. She’d eventually confided in her the nature of her melancholy. “You need to keep your mind busy,” her mother had said. “I’ll teach you how to develop photos in the dark room.”
“It was during that time when I recognized my aptitude,” Rosa continued. “My father confirmed my feelings by suggesting the Metropolitan Police Training School. They were actively recruiting women for the force. The war had changed the way society looked at women, and employment options other than nursing and teaching became possible.”
Gloria moaned. “That’s what I don’t know. My aptitudes.” She whipped her sunglasses off and stared hard at Rosa. “Can you tell? What do you think my aptitudes are?”
Rosa pushed her own sunglasses more tightly to her face and hoped Gloria didn’t see her look of distress. How was she to answer that? Certainly not driving. Or working anywhere that required one to stay silent.
“Rosa?”
“I’m thinking.”
Rosa reclined on the lounger and propped up a knee. “There are a great many things you could do.”
“Like?”
“Well, you could follow in your mother’s footsteps and promote charities.”
“Oh, I suppose. I’d just like to do something—”
“That your mother’s not doing?”
“Yes. Thank you for understanding. I know you and your mom are close, but my mother and I have a more complicated relationship.”
Rosa could appreciate that. “Let’s take some time to put our heads together. I’m sure we’ll think of something that you’ll want to do.”
Gloria sipped on her drink. “It’s so nice having you here, Rosa. We’re like sisters! So much more fun.”
Rosa held in the smile. She felt she’d burst into laughter if she wasn’t careful. Gloria’s outgoing personality was delightful. Her cousin had only been ten years old when Rosa left to go back to England, but despite their age difference, they’d spent quite a bit of time together.
As if to make sure Rosa was listening, Gloria eyed Rosa over her cat-eye sunglasses. “I love Clarence, but he can be such a pill. I mean, you know what brothers are like, right? How is Scout, by the way? I barely had a chance to speak to him in London.”
Scout, who went by Samuel now, was Rosa’s older brother.
“He’s very busy with his horses.”
“Still racing?”
“Yes, though I warn him he’s getting a little old to keep withstanding the rigors necessary to be a jockey. I tell him he should trade in his horses for a wife and family,” Rosa huffed, “but who am I to talk.”
Gloria patted Rosa’s hand. “Oh, you’ll find the right man one day, don’t you worry.” Rosa’s mind immediately betrayed her by going to Miguel. Her face grew warm and she flapped her hands, pretending to be succumbing to the midday heat.
Gloria threw her thin legs over the edge of her lounger. “I’m feeling hungry, anyway. It must be lunchtime soon. We can eat inside for a change.”
Rosa and Gloria changed into summer dresses for the afternoon and met again in the dining room for lunch. Señora Gomez produced a plate of tacos—Rosa did miss Mexican food. When she tried to explain the spicy mix of flavors to her British counterparts, she received deep frowns and looks of distrust. The British preferred their food plain and simple.
Clarence—looking very much like an American businessman—sauntered in as they were finishing. He wore a red tie and a starchy white shirt tucked into high-waisted, pleated pants with cuffs that rested on leather loafers.
“Vanessa called. She’s dropping Julie off this afternoon.”
Julie was Clarence’s four-year-old daughter.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Rosa said.
“Actually,” Clarence’s eyes registered an idea, “I was wondering if you and Gloria would like to take her out, do girl things.”
“I love my niece,” Gloria said, “but I think she’d rather spend time with her dad.”
“I know, and we will. It’s just that I have an awful lot of work to do.”
Gloria’s expression was just short of ridicule. “What ‘work’ do you do?”
He scowled at her. “I run Dad’s business affairs. You don’t know everything I do. There’s a lot more to it than meets the eye.”
Rosa had learned from her mother that Clarence had been “officially” put in charge of his father’s vast business holdings, but it was Aunt Louisa who sat on the board and called the shots.
Rosa pitied Clarence. It would be difficult for him to fill his father’s shoes if his mother insisted on wearing them instead.
“Let’s take Julie for ice cream,” Rosa offered. “I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of shopping,”
Gloria sent Rosa a pointed look. “You could
