Alejandro said in Spanish, “Then you should make a better design.” Diego translated.
“He’s a plant expert, not me. All I’ve done in garden design is draw a circle on a piece of paper. And I only did that because I wanted—” She stopped. The men were looking at her hard. How did she know about Alejandro’s knowledge of plants? “Besides,” she said loudly, “Mrs. Bellmont wouldn’t listen to me. What do I know about gardening?”
“You know as much as that little thief does,” Alejandro said, and again Diego translated—while frowning at his brother.
“She wants some famous name to do it, so she can brag to the other women.” Elise stood up. “Maybe I should say my name is Caliente and that I have a degree from some made-up school in Italy.”
The two men were staring at her.
“What?” She looked down at herself. Her clothes were too big and she’d already pulled sticks out of her hair. “What’s wrong?”
“A rich man’s daughter,” Alejandro said. “Bryn Mawr.”
“I understood that name.” She didn’t wait for Diego to do an unnecessary translation. “Bryn Mawr isn’t exactly known for garden design. I studied a lot of art history. The closest I ever got to learning about garden design was studying Monet’s water lilies.”
The men were still staring at her.
Elise’s voice was rising as she tried to make them understand. “Mrs. Bellmont would never look at anything I proposed. She and my father can’t stand each other. He said that one time she made a pass at him, and after he turned her down, she...”
The men had their backs against the kitchen counter. They were waiting for her to see what they did.
“A woman scorned,” Elise said. “It’s quite possible that Audrey Bellmont would love to hire the daughter of a man who humiliated her.”
Alejandro and Diego smiled at her. A seed—a big one—had been planted. Elise got the drawing pad and pencils out of her suitcase. Where did she begin?
Diego put a plate of refried beans and rice beside her. “We go back to the Bellmonts’ on Friday. You have two days to come up with something to show her.”
“But I don’t know how to do this,” Elise said. “I’ve had no training. I don’t even know the size of the garden.”
Diego picked up the rolled plan off the countertop. “It’s all here. Just change it.”
“But—”
“Eat, then get to work,” Diego said.
Elise had an overwhelming sense of “I can’t” and “I don’t know how.” Alejandro said, “I hate the fishpond,” and Diego translated.
“Me too,” Elise said. “Her dogs would eat the poor fish. One time my mother said that Audrey Bellmont wanted to be a professional dancer but she got married instead so she gave it up.”
Again, the men were looking at her.
“A dance pavilion,” Elise said. “A concrete form. Round. Then a building of lattice where she can sit. In the back, it has mirrors and a ballet barre.” She picked up the pad and began to sketch. She knew just where it could be built in the garden.
Hours later, when she fell asleep over her sketch pad, it was Alejandro who carried her to bed.
“I’m dirty,” she murmured, half-asleep.
“You can shower in the morning.”
She was too sleepy to notice that he spoke in English. “Pink astilbe. No! Red firecracker plants. What are those funny-looking ones that curve? They’re thick and fuzzy.”
“Coxcomb.”
“Right.” She yawned. “You have to choose the plants. What grows on Long Island? Isn’t there some kind of wild orchid around here?”
Her eyes were closed and Alejandro kissed her forehead—then wiped his mouth. She was indeed quite dirty. She was barefoot but otherwise fully clothed, but he didn’t dare remove anything. Smiling, he went to his own bed. He was glad to see that the scared look was beginning to leave her eyes. Maybe it was on its way to being permanently gone.
The next morning, Elise was at the kitchen table when the men came in to breakfast.