“Hmm.” She knew he’d want more, and so would she, but for now, she wished she could purr as loudly as Romeo.
Chapter Eighteen
The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke Ana Tuesday morning. Alejandro’s scent lingered in her bed, and she rolled herself in the sheets to soak him up. When he didn’t bring her a mug, she rose. She’d removed the wig before dawn, and her hair streamed about her head in wild disarray, perfectly suiting her mood. She donned her white satin robe and hopped into the kitchen. When she found Fatima rather than Alejandro, she forced a smile to hide her disappointment. “Good morning.”
Fatima nodded toward the dining room table. “Your visitor left a note. I won’t offer an opinion on the company you keep, but I’m sorely tempted.”
Ana turned and found a beautiful drawing of the cats curled around each other. Alejandro had used paper from her printer, written they’d all missed her and signed with a fancy A that could have come from the cover of a Gothic novel. She hopped by her housekeeper into her office and added it to a folder to be filed later.
She wouldn’t justify how she’d spent her night to Fatima or anyone else and promptly changed the subject. “I haven’t decided what to wear this afternoon. Do you have a suggestion?” she asked.
Fatima poured a mug of coffee and carried it to the dining table for her. “You don’t really do ruffles and frills, but you have a floral dress that would do.”
“You’re right. That is pretty.” She took her chair at the dining room table and glanced t
hrough the paper. She suspected the editors of printing the same sad stories every day and just moving them around so readers would mistakenly believe the reports were current. She enjoyed working the crossword puzzles; those were always new.
“Are you in the mood for another poached egg?” Fatima asked.
“No, thank you, fresh fruit will do.”
Fatima removed berries and melon from the refrigerator. “I’ve been thinking of baking some little creampuffs for this afternoon. It won’t take me long to make a custard filling. Dusted with powdered sugar, they’d go nicely with what’s left of the nut bread sandwiches.”
“What’s left?” She hadn’t told Alejandro about the tea, and it tickled her to think he’d taken a handful on his way out. “I must have eaten more than I thought.”
“Apparently so, but it can swiftly be replaced.” She brought a serving of fruit to the table in a crystal bowl.
“Thank you, Fatima. I don’t thank you often enough.” She opened the paper to the crossword puzzle and ate her fruit slowly as she worked it.
Alejandro shoved away from the desk and stood to watch the activity along the docks. The view had fascinated him as a child when it had all been a game with a thousand moving parts. What he felt now was the burden to keep everything moving where it should. The Mediterranean Queen was in port that week, and he couldn’t look at her without wishing the voyage he’d planned on the Siren had gone his way. He rubbed his neck, stretched, and had to admit he really needed to get more sleep than he’d had last night. He hoped Ana didn’t have plans for the day so she could stay in bed, but he wished he could have remained with her until Fatima had yanked the covers off the bed and insisted they get up.
The tea was more fun than Ana had thought possible. Fatima put on a black dress and white apron to serve, and the ladies had dressed in their finest for the party. Ana had little in common with the four widows she’d invited other than a home address, but they told such entertaining stories she was sorry she hadn’t gotten to know them sooner. Vivien had married a childhood sweetheart. Ingrid had eloped with her father’s business partner. Judith and Helen had married men their families had encouraged them to wed, but only Judith had been happy.
Helen had had a difficult life. “I’d have left my husband long before he died, but I couldn’t disappoint our children or force them to take sides.”
“Life goes by so swiftly,” Vivien observed. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a loving marriage.”
Helen shrugged. “I’m grateful he left me well provided for, and I may be luckier the second time.”
“You’d marry again? Aren’t you afraid you might do worse?” Ingrid asked.
Ana enjoyed a creampuff as the ladies laughed about the possibility of happy second marriages at their age. By the time they were all ready to leave, they’d talked away the afternoon, and Vivien promised to give the next tea soon.
“They were all really fun,” Ana told Fatima. “I don’t think people change much with age, do you?”
“Not from what I’d seen. Sweet people stay sweet, and the nasty ones just keep on getting nastier. Do you want me to fix dinner before I go?”
“Thank you, but I ate one creampuff too many, and I’ll wait until later.” She stretched out on the sofa and read through the latest edition of French Vogue. She’d hoped to hear from Alejandro, but when it grew late and he hadn’t called, she warmed the leftover pisto manchego. It was even better than it had been Sunday night.
The call Alejandro had dreaded came late in the afternoon. His father had suffered a heart attack and died. Carlotta had been with him at the end and had left for home to tell their sons. Alejandro thanked the doctor for all he’d done, and remained at his desk to write a brief announcement for the staff. He gathered the department heads in the conference room and told them himself. Several sobbed into their handkerchiefs, but he felt nothing and remained dry-eyed.
“While not unexpected, this is still a blow,” he said. “My father was not a religious man, and he often told me rather than a traditional funeral, he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered at sea. It’s appropriate for a man who gave his life to the Ortiz Line. I’ll let you know when arrangements have been made. Take off as much time as you need.”
There were questions, and he gave the best answers he could, but what was really needed was the assurance he would continue to head the firm. “Yes, I will,” he promised, his voice firm, but it wasn’t an honor he welcomed or would continue indefinitely.
It was late when Alejandro came to Ana’s door, but the seriousness of his expression made it plain he hadn’t stopped by for sex. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.”
“My father died this afternoon. I wanted you to know before it’s on the news, but I won’t stay.”