by Danni Roan
Portia had grown up in the glass and steel penthouse of her single father, surrounded by luxury and all things modern. Her business mogul father had given her a modern life, but she often thought that the bright light, harsh angles and stark décor of her home was what made her love all things old. The painted lady Victorian house, just down the beach, glowed softly from within and beckoned her like a siren’s song.
“Maybe that cute mechanic will show me around if I ask nicely,” Portia mused as she pulled a lightweight green dress from her closet. Making haste, she applied minimal makeup, and shoved her feet into soft sandals, hurrying out the door as her stomach began to rumble.
***
Pablo watched the young woman with the luxurious golden locks step out of the old trailer under the soft ambient flicker of her awning lights. Each small globe of light appeared to be a prospect’s lantern, painted in the exact shade of red as the wide stripe down the middle of the trailer. He had to admit that the whole set up was very becoming, but what drew his attention was the woman walking toward him with long, swaying strides.
Even from this distance, Pablo could see that the willowy woman walked like a model, her blonde hair flowing around her shoulders like waves of flaxen gold. She wore a light green dress that seemed to wrap around her, swaying like seaweed on the tide, with every step.
Pablo pulled himself away from the window and hurried to the pull-up bar on his closet door. He would get his routine workout in, shower, and meet the family for dinner. He didn’t need a woman mussing up his thoughts.
***
“You look nice,” Jamie grinned as Pablo walked into the kitchen that served the family living quarters of the Inn. “Do you have a date?” She giggled at his hard glare.
“No,” Pablo snapped. “Would you all stop trying to marry me off? I’m too busy with the garage to think about marriage.”
Jamie Jimenez turned toward the stove winking at her grandmother, a bright smile on her pretty face. “I’m soooo sorry,” she teased, pushing a lock of dark blonde hair behind one ear.
“Where is everyone anyway?” Pablo asked. The table wasn’t set, his little nephew Christian was nowhere to be seen, and Carlos had yet to make an appearance.
“We are all eating in the dining room tonight,” Mrs. Walton, Jamie’s grandmother, said. “They are serving beef wellington, my favorite.” The older woman grinned, settling a tea kettle back onto a burner. “I’m just fixing myself some tea before we go.”
Pablo rolled his eyes. He had hoped for a quiet supper and a chance to catch up on his paperwork, but he knew that everyone would take their time over the lovely meal prepared by the hotel staff.
“At least you aren’t all covered in grease tonight,” Jamie said, slipping her arm in his as she cast a glance back at her Gram. “Come on, Gram, Carlos will be getting impatient, and you know that Christian does not like to wait for food.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Gram Walton grumbled shuffling up behind them. Something told her that tonight would be unique.
“Where are Nita and Dev,” Pablo asked as he seated Gram at a chair in the elegant dining hall and took up an empty seat. “I thought she’d be here tonight.” In reality, he was surprised she wasn’t there pestering him about the gift he had received. She had wanted him to open it immediately, and it wasn’t like her to wait.
“Devon is taking her out tonight,” Carlos looked up from his place at the head of the table and grinned at his younger brother. Although several years older, and a bit stockier than Pablo, it was apparent the two were brothers.
“Uncle Pab’o,” three-year-old Chris called, grinning, his chubby cheeks aglow. “I hungry,” the tot chimed. The little boy was such a joy to the family, and secretly Pablo hoped that Chris would have a brother or sister soon, but so far Jamie was staying mum.
“Let’s pray,” Carlos spoke, taking his son’s hand on one side and his wife’s on the other. Pablo and Gram joined the group, and Carlos offered grace ending on Amen, just as their meal was served.
***
Portia stepped into the entrance of the old house and sighed. It was exactly what she expected, all tall pillars, hardwood floors, and wallpaper. Smiling, she followed a host to the dining room, soaking in the spirit of the house with each step.
In a matter of moments, Portia was seated at a small table by a bank of windows that looked out over the vast expanse of Lake Michigan and handed a menu by a girl not long out of her teens.
Portia had just placed her order for the night’s special when her eyes fell on the handsome man who had current custody of her truck. Rising, she made her way through the crowded room to the table where he sat with what must be his family.
The man looked even better all cleaned up, with his black hair brushed to a peak above his forehead and the dark green shirt setting off his bronzed skin. This would be the perfect opportunity to talk to him further about her plans for Sweetie. She was sure he wouldn’t mind if she crashed his little dinner. Portia had never been good at waiting for things, and there was no time like the present.
Chapter 6
Pablo’s eyes grew wide as the pretty Portia approached the table, wondering what she had on her mind. Standing, he placed his napkin on the table and started to leave the table. He didn’t need business mixing with family.
“Ms. Princeton,” he greeted as she reached the table. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Portia’s bright eyes scanned the table, smiling as the family turned to look at her. “I thought we might discuss the work on Sweetie while we eat. You can join me at my table.”
“Nonsense,” Gram practically shouted, pulling the chair beside her back from the table. “You can join us.” The older woman grinned innocently up at Pablo. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting all alone in a strange place.”
“Gram, I’m sure Ms. Princeton doesn’t want to join us. She’s probably ready for a bit of a rest after an eventful day.” Pablo looked between the two women, barely repressing a growl when Portia smiled, accepting the invitation.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the chair and pulling her dress around her legs as she lowered herself to the seat.
“Pablo,” Jamie hissed, nodding at the chair and making her brother-in-law jump.
Pablo shook his head in disgust but helped the woman with her chair, offering her a polite welcome that he didn’t feel.
Returning to his seat, Pablo watched as the family introduced themselves while Gram waved down Portia’s server and had her meal delivered to their table. A strange sensation crept up the mechanic's spine, but he turned his attention to his meal, ignoring the foreboding hanging over his head.
“You must be the young woman having truck troubles,” Gram smiled. “You are very fortunate that campsite came open when it did. We’re booked out through the summer and into prime leaf-peeping season. It was a stroke of good luck that someone canceled when they did.”
“I’m so glad I ran into the garage when I did,” Portia nodded, popping a bit of perfect beef wellington into her mouth.
“Ran into is just about right,” Pablo quipped, his dark eyes shining with mischief.
“Now, I’m looking forward to getting Sweetie restored.”
“Sweetie?” Three voices chimed in unison as Carlos, Jamie, and Gram all turned questioning looks on Portia.
“It’s what I call my truck because it is such a sweet find. Sweetie was a farm truck that had been in regular use until about a year ago when the owner finally parked it in his chicken coop. The flathead V6 has plenty of pulling power and makes up in torque what it lacks in speed. Besides,” Portia smile brightly, “Sweetie matches my vintage RV.”
Pablo lowered his fork back to his plate, shocked at the woman’s understanding of what she had, but even more horrified that she had taken the truck on the road before having it refitted. “You shouldn’t have taken it on the road yet,” he blurted without thought. “Someone could have been hurt.”
“Well, I guess that’s true, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I was determined to have a summer on the lake, and as they say no harm, no foul. ” Portia smiled again, waving her slim hand flippantly. “Now, let’s talk about what I want to do.”
The rest of the family turned their attention back to still hot meals, Carlos struggling to replenish his son’s plate fast enough for Chris’s satisfaction. It was plain to see that the pretty young woman who had arrived in such a surprising fashion among them had her mind set on telling Pablo precisely what to do.
“No, I want the fenders painted black,” Portia snapped, leaning over the table. “I like the look.”
“But it isn’t authentic,” Pablo shot back. “Don’t you think you have the cart ahead of the horse anyway? What if we can’t get the parts?”
Portia brushed the comment aside with the wave of a hand. “I’m sure we’ll find what we need. We might just need to get a little creative. If necessary, Daddy will help, and as I said, money is no object.”
“So you said,” Pablo poked aggressively at the salad in his bowl. “But don’t you think safety should be our first priority.”
“Yes, yes,” the woman rolled her eyes, “but I want Sweetie to be pretty too.”
Pablo felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Was this woman for real? “Pretty? It’s a truck.”
“But it’s my truck,” Portia leaned over the table, her aqua eyes hard. “So you need to get started, get help if you need it.”
Pablo gaped. He had no words. Didn’t she think he was capable of doing the work? His eyes flashed as he leaned over the table, matching her glare.
“I. Will. Fix. Your. Truck.” The silence around them thickened as the whole table grew still, and the tension drew taunt. “You will just have to wait.” Pablo snapped his eyes from Portia’s with effort turning back to his plate and cutting into his tender beef with a scrape of knife and fork on plate.
“Do I have a choice?” Portia snipped, stuffing a cherry tomato in her mouth with a pout. “Just don’t waste time.”
Old Mrs. Walton pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, trying not to laugh. She liked this girl, but she needed to do something fast before Pablo messed up everything.
“What would you like to do while you’re here?” she asked. “I’m sure we can set something up to keep you occupied while Pablo starts work on Sweetie.”
Portia turned. staring at the older woman for a few beats before speaking. “What I’d love is a tour of this old house.” She felt the tension from a moment ago evaporate as she lifted her eyes to the beautiful white beams that decorated the dining room, each with a beautifully written inspirational quote etched out in black print.
“I’d love to show you around!” Gram enthused, clapping her hands together. “After all, I know all the secrets of the place.” The old woman grinned, offering Portia a wink and making the young woman laugh. “Maybe tomorrow morning, while folks are out at the lake, and another day, Jamie can show you the cottages as well and tell you all about them. They’re themed, you see. Each one has a different name and special look. Our most popular one is the Christmas Cottage, but it’s slightly larger, so that must be why.”
“I noticed the cabins on my walk over here,” Portia said, Pablo all but forgotten. “You have a Fish Camp, A Fourth of July, Big Bear, and you can’t miss the Christmas Cottage. It looks like Mrs. Claus decorated it herself.”
As dessert and coffee were served, the conversation turned to lighter chatter. Jamie, Carlos, and Gram seemed to be trying to out-do each other touting the delights of the area, as Pablo tried to ignore them all. He didn’t need a bossy woman telling him his job. He would proceed as he saw fit, whether Portia liked it or not. He didn’t believe in doing a job halfway.
“Pablo,” Gram’s voice caught the younger man by surprise, and he looked up from his bowl of hot blueberry cobbler smothered in fresh vanilla ice-cream. “Be a gentleman and walk Ms. Portia back to her site. You never know what critters might be about. Even the harmless ones can give a body quite the start if they aren’t expecting them.”
“Yes, Gram.” Pablo’s voice expressed precisely what he thought of the idea, but he didn’t refuse. Gram was the sweetest lady he had ever known, and he could never tell her no. Shoving as much cobbler into his mouth as he could, he rose indicting that if Portia was ready, they could go.
Chapter 7
A cool breeze ruffled the waves of the lake, sending them shushing against the shore and casting the surroundings of the Old Inn in welcome coolness as together Pablo and Portia walked down off the wide porch.
Pablo padded along next to his guest and client, hoping they wouldn’t begin to argue again. The night was peaceful, a half-moon lighting their way toward the little camper with its beckoning lanterns dancing on the breeze.
“How long have you had the camper?” Pablo knew he was being rude, not speaking, and felt this was a safe subject.
“About a year,” Portia said. “I picked it up from the cutest little old lady. She seemed to be fixated on red, white, and Christmas. If I had met her as a child, I would have been convinced I’d met the real Mrs. Claus.” Portia’s giggle floated into the night on gossamer wings. “I thought it was odd when I bought it, not only was the trailer in pristine condition, but the owner said they were selling it because they were just too busy to use it anymore. Can you believe that? You would think that retirees would have more time, not less.”
“I guess it depends on their priorities,” Pablo mused. “Some older people work, have large families to keep up with, watch their grand or even great-grandchildren. I can’t imagine Gram leaving the inn to traipse around the country.”
Portia turned, looking at Pablo. The misty light of the half-moon falling on his face highlighted his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and luminous eyes.
“I hadn’t thought of that before. Me, I want to see things, and frankly, I don’t have anything pressing to keep me in one place. Here we are.”
Pablo came to a stop under the patch of light that marked the awning as Portia pulled a key out of her tiny bag. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said politely, turning to go. “I’ll be at the garage first thing tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated on my progress with your truck.”
“Coffee?” The words pulled Pablo to a stop like a string snapping a marionette upright. “I’d like to show you my rig.” Portia sounded suddenly vulnerable, but she wasn’t ready to call it a day.
“Sure,” Pablo turned, smiling. Gram had told him to be polite after all. It had nothing to do with his curiosity about what the interior of the red and white travel trailer looked like or how pretty the host was.
“I’ll give you the two-minute tour.” Portia’s voice was light as she opened the door stepping inside and glancing over her shoulder to see that he followed. “Pull the screen door closed.”
Pablo stepped up the metal stairs pulling the aluminum screen door closed behind him and grinning as Portia flicked on a light. The place was straight out of the fifties in a plethora of red, white, and black checkered floor.
“The table turns into the bed,” Portia pointed to the table with the U-shaped booth at the front of the rig. The red tabletop glistened softly in the light, and the red and white cushions on the bench-style seating looked comfortable. Three big windows wrapped the front of the coach, and Pablo knew that on a bright day, it would give a sense of openness, not to mention great views.
“I like the pillows,” he grinned, pointing at the throw pillows decorated in a variety of what looked like Christmas ornaments. At a glance, he saw a goose, a carousel horse, and a pineapple of all things.
“I told you the woman had a fixation with Christmas. If you look closely at the piping on the benches, they have tiny white Christmas trees on them.”
Pablo leaned closer, chuckling. “Cute.”
“I’ll start the coffee,” Portia smiled back, moving into the tiny kitchen.
“You have a real porcelain
sink, that’s a surprise.” Pablo continued to look around him at the white cupboards trimmed in red, and all of the décor.
“I love my kitchen,” Portia admitted, gesturing around her with a coffee scoop. “At first, I thought I’d repaint, but the white is bright and cheerful, besides with the red trim on the doors, you have enough color. Not to mention the stove.” Her eyes grew bright as she flicked the gas on and placed a stark black kettle on the burner of the red four-burner gas stove. “I’ve been dying to use everything, and this trip is just the ticket.”
Pablo smiled, surprised at enjoying his time with Portia. She obviously loved the place and was happy being out here on her own. “Do you like all old things?”
