Nan’s cottage stood solid and cozy on her perch at the top of a gentle hill overlooking the sea. It was dark now, but the Fairchild Light illuminated the cape below. The island had a lighthouse for each port—Fairchild Light at the southern end, and West Light on the western shore where most of the mansions and estates were built between the shelter of the island and the mainland, protected from the harshness of the open ocean.
As I parked and went inside, I got that little flip of panic down low in my belly. It was worry about how much longer Nan could remain here in the cottage. I didn’t know that answer. I did know she owned it outright and that it was the only thing of value my grandmother possessed from her marriage to my grandfather. He’d died when my mum was a baby, so even my mum had never known her father. Nan never remarried after my grandfather died, but instead gave her life to her work at Blackwater estate. Unencumbered with a mortgage and given the land value on a resort island with an unobstructed view, it had to be worth a significant amount. But it was a very small property, and it wasn’t in the exclusive area where the luxury hotels and private estates were located. I couldn’t imagine selling and moving Nan somewhere else. Where would we go? But the money situation wasn’t going to get better and I needed to at least make inquires. I’d make a point to visit Herman and ask for his advice. If anyone would know, it was him. Maybe Nan could take out an equity loan on the cottage and that would get us through.
Who was I kidding? Get us through our financial troubles until we won the Massachusetts State Lottery? Yeah, right.
Frustrated, I set off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The hour was far too late for caffeine now, and I needed sleep after the shit day I’d had. I peeled off the boots first. It bothered me that my beloved boots were what prompted my problems this evening. They’d certainly brought me unwanted attention while I was serving. Hadn’t Eduardo greeted me with “those boots are screaming ‘do me ’til I can’t take it anymore’” just this morning? This morning seemed like it had been ages ago now. If I’d been working tonight in my regular uniform clothing, would that heinous man still have grabbed me and said those horrible things to me? I shuddered at the remembrance. The harsh movement and possessive touch of his mean little hands on my body had just brought it all back so quickly. My only thought was to get him off me, because I couldn’t bear being touched roughly anymore.
It was too close to the way he had touched me. And I would never forget how that felt. I wanted to forget . . . I just didn’t know if it was possible for me to forget.
There was a spot of cocktail sauce on the collar of my one-day-old white shirt. Crap. I treated it with a bleach pen and set it to soak in the bathroom sink but figured it was probably ruined since it was white. Something in the sauce made it next to impossible to get out of clothing. I’d ruined clothes before from shrimp cocktail sauce. My stomach took another dive as I realized there were several expensive suits splattered tonight, and my pay from the job wouldn’t come even close to covering the cleaning of designer suits. Hopefully the dry cleaners had a magic solution to remove the stains. It was Martin’s problem anyway. He could find the arsehole who’d caused the whole mess and have him pay.
You broke a man’s nose tonight. Yes, I did. And I would do it again in the same situation—in a heartbeat.
I looked down at my legs.
The scars on my right calf and knee were the reason for the boots or tights when I wore skirts. The scars were ugly, yes, but mostly I just didn’t want to have to see them and . . . remember.
“YOU have an admirer, condesa, look what’s been delivered for Brooke.” Eduardo strolled up to my work area with a gorgeous pot of dark red peonies and set them down on my desk. The flowers were a stunning cranberry red with most of the stems still in the round-bud stage. They would become huge blooms when they opened. Striking and unusual, and totally unexpected.
“Who from?” I couldn’t imagine who would send me flowers. Martin? No, he was too cheap for flowers. These looked expensive, plus it was a plant and not a vase of cut flowers. I could plant it in the ground in Nan’s garden eventually and enjoy them for a long time.
“Read the card, ay Dios mío, what are you waiting for?” He plucked it from the bouquet and shoved it at me. “I will die before you tell me who sent this to you.”
“You really should have been an actor, Eduardo,” I told him as I opened the envelope and read the card.
Brooke,
Please accept these flowers as a token of my appreciation for the meatball lesson last night.
It was unforgettable.
Caleb
The guy with the black eye. Unforgettable? He’d made the effort to be nice even after he’d been knocked down by the arsehole who’d put his hands on me. Why? Why send me expensive flowers, and furthermore, how did he even know where to send them? He knew my name. I wondered if he’d asked Martin, but that would be a really low blow for Martin to disclose my information to a stranger. Also illegal.