In the Brazilian's Debt

by Susan Stephens

  For a moment Lizzie was too stunned to speak. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Your grandmother did me a favour once, and I have never forgotten it. You will travel in my jet. How soon can you be ready to leave?’

  Chico was making her an incredible offer, Lizzie reflected, and if he hadn’t been quite so eager to see her leave, she might have been more gracious with her thanks. ‘I can be packed in half an hour,’ she said briskly, matching his mood. She brushed off the hurt. She was worried and strained, and overreacting again because of his manner, but she had to be strong now.

  ‘Be ready to leave when I call you,’ he said.

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Tonight,’ Chico confirmed.

  Her mouth dried. How quickly things ended. This had echoes of the past. It was just as well she was leaving before she came to care for Chico any more than she already did.

  She had to make some calls before she left, Lizzie remembered, hoping they would distract her. She had to tell her father and her mother too that her grandmother was failing, and the house and estate had been repossessed.

  * * *

  The dormitory was deserted. Pacing up and down, she rang the nursing home where her father lived first. It would be late, but there was twenty-four hour cover, so she could leave a message to explain the situation.

  ‘Could you tell him that his mother is seriously ill, and there are problems with the house?’

  ‘Certainly. Your father’s well enough to receive the news in the morning,’ the helpful nurse confirmed, which was code for sober, Lizzie realised.

  As she ended the call, Lizzie’s heart was racing with excitement as she contemplated a possible recovery for her father. Maybe her family would reunite around her grandmother, which she knew was her grandmother’s dearest wish. Bolstered by this thought, she called her mother in the South of France. She had more luck reaching Serena, who was always up at all hours, though their conversation was shockingly short.

  ‘I thought you should know. Grannie’s ill, and it’s serious,’ she began carefully.

  ‘And?’ her mother queried coolly. ‘What’s that to me?’

  And, she was wasting precious time, Lizzie concluded, trying to disregard her mother’s callous attitude. That was life, she supposed, glancing around her tidy space in the dormitory, where she had cleared everything away. One moment she was imagining everything would be all right—her parents would reunite around her grandmother, she would be in Chico’s arms, and everything was wonderful, and the next the family plans had fallen flat, and Chico had said goodbye to her without a backward glance.

  * * *

  He heard the news before Lizzie. He was in the corral breaking in a new colt when his phone rang. It was Maria calling. Annie, the housekeeper at Rottingdean, had rung her. He listened carefully and then handed care of the pony over to one of the gauchos. He did a quick calculation. Lizzie would still be in the air on her way to Scotland. The timing of her grandmother’s death couldn’t have been worse for her. Lizzie would arrive too late. Worse, the jackals would gather when she was at her lowest point. Someone should be there for her—

  He should be there for her, if only to fight them off. Lizzie’s grandmother would expect him to do something for her granddaughter, and, after what that remarkable old lady had done for him, of course he would be there. This had nothing to do with his feelings for Lizzie. This was a moral duty, pure and simple.

  He showered and dressed, and then booked a private jet, which, in the absence of his own jet, was the fastest way for him to get to Scotland. He was concerned about Lizzie, and about the future of a vast estate that had been in the same family for generations. It wouldn’t be split up and sold off for a song, if he could help it.

  Lizzie was right in that he shouldn’t be thinking of leaving the ranch. It was the worst possible time for him, but it couldn’t be helped. The past had a way of catching up, he had discovered, and his return to Rottingdean, a place he’d vowed never to go near again, was now inevitable. Leaving Maria in overall charge, he explained to his students that extraordinary circumstances had forced him to leave them briefly. He would be back in the new year in time for their graduation, and in the meantime his top men would take over their training classes. He had no idea what sort of a mess he was going to find in Scotland, so he had given himself plenty of time.

  ‘I’m appointing Danny to be team leader in charge of discipline in Lizzie’s place,’ he told them, ‘so your training will continue uninterrupted.’

  Once that was done, he took the Harley to the helipad, and from there he flew to the airport where he would catch the flight to Scotland. He felt purposeful and determined, as he always did when he had everything under control.

  Why then did he feel such an overwhelming sense of dread by the time he reached the airport?

  * * *

  Lizzie was on the train to Rottingdean from the airport when she placed the call to her grandmother. When there was no answer, she called the housekeeper’s direct line.

  Still nothing. Feeling distinctly uneasy, she kept on calling until finally, to her relief, Annie answered. ‘Can you tell my grandmother I’m back, and that she has nothing to worry about?’

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Lizzie’s stomach clenched with apprehension.

  ‘Lizzie?’ Annie was clearly distressed. ‘You haven’t heard?’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but your grandmother passed away peacefully just a few hours ago.’

  ‘She’s dead?’ The word seemed so bald and cold. Surely she was trapped in a nightmare? But, no. Annie confirmed that Lizzie was only just too late, which made it worse somehow. ‘I’ll have to try to contact my parents,’ she said numbly, speaking on autopilot.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you will have to,’ Annie agreed gently, sounding none too pleased at the thought of Lizzie’s parents being involved.

  It took for ever for Lizzie’s mother to answer the phone. Even so, Lizzie tried to break the news gently, believing that no one was ever ready to hear about a death in the family, however distant the people involved thought they had become.

  ‘You’re not thinking of coming here after the funeral, are you?’ Serena demanded.

  Lizzie was so shocked it took her a moment to reply. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Where will you live now?’ her mother asked suspiciously.

  ‘At Rottingdean, I suppose.’

  ‘Until the creditors throw you out, I suppose?’

  ‘Well, yes...I suppose so.’ Lizzie hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  ‘Well, don’t think you’re coming here to mess up my life. That would be so like you. You always have to spoil everything for me—’

  ‘I’m sorry...’ Lizzie was bewildered.

  ‘Do you know how old Paulo is?’

  Her mother’s latest boyfriend, Lizzie guessed.

  ‘Come on, you must know,’ Serena insisted impatiently. ‘I’ve had a lot of coverage in the press. I can’t have a daughter as old as you suddenly appearing on the scene. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Elizabeth?’

  Basically, push off, Lizzie thought. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure the old bat’s lawyers will let me know if she’s left me anything.’ And with that, Serena rang off.

  Lizzie stared at the phone in her hand, and then, firming her resolve, she placed a second call.

  ‘Lizzie...’ Her father’s voice was full of sympathy and concern. ‘We both knew this was coming, didn’t we?’

  But that didn’t make it any easier, Lizzie thought, though she was glad that her father seemed to be holding together so well.

  ‘Just tell me what you need me to do,’ he said, sounding better than she had heard him
for a long time.

  ‘Help me to arrange the funeral?’ she suggested tentatively.

  Her father laughed. ‘Why, you’ll be much better at that than me, Lizzie. I’ll be there to honour the old bird, of course. And then there’s the reading of the will. I’ll definitely attend that.’

  Lizzie realised she hadn’t even thought about the will.

  ‘Be sure to let me know when the lawyers are ready to divvy up the spoils,’ her father said, sounding much brighter. ‘That’s if they get in touch with you before me, of course.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Your grandmother was a very awkward and unpredictable woman, so who knows what she intended? Just do as I say, will you, Lizzie?’

  ‘Of course.’ Lizzie’s blood ran cold. Her father was hoping to inherit whatever might be left after the creditors had picked over the estate, and if he did that his old drinking cronies would be back faster than Lizzie could raise a loan to save what was left. On the way home, she had spent most of the long flight wondering if she could interest the Scottish Legacy Preservation Society in buying and restoring the estate, but now it seemed she was working on a rapidly diminishing timescale.

  ‘And, one more thing, Lizzie,’ her father said. ‘Don’t let that fellow Chico anywhere near the place. He always was a bad lot, and I wouldn’t put anything past him. Once he hears your grandmother’s dead, he’ll be after you. That man has no scruples.’

  Chico had no scruples? Yet here was her father, talking about spoils when his mother had only just passed away, and her mother was more interested in her latest boyfriend than the estate she had bled dry. Another call coming through on her phone distracted Lizzie for a moment. Her heart lurched to see it was Chico calling.

  ‘Don’t forget that man stole something precious from me—’

  She turned her attention back to her father on the phone. ‘Do you mean the horses?’ she said, confused.

  ‘No. I mean your mother. Chico Fernandez stole your mother from me.’

  Firming her lips, Lizzie shook her head in blank denial of this, but before she heard the details of the truth from Chico’s lips she doubted she would ever be totally certain of anything, and with Chico in Brazil and Lizzie in Scotland, there was no way that was ever going to happen now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHE COULD SEE why people might believe that something had happened between Chico and Serena all those years ago. The pieces of the jigsaw could so easily be moulded to fit. A beautiful and bored young socialite with too much time on her hands tied to an unwanted child and a much older husband. Add a devastatingly attractive South American groom, and watch the sparks fly. Lizzie knew she shouldn’t listen to her father’s heavily biased views, but he had caught her at a particularly vulnerable time.

  When she got off the train in Rottingdean village, Lizzie’s first stop was the lodge, to collect the keys to the big house. Chico had called a second time, but she still hadn’t taken his call. She couldn’t face talking to him. Today was all about her grandmother. Anything else would have to wait.

  ‘Lizzie! You’re back! Come in!’

  Hamish, the gamekeeper, Annie’s husband, flung the door wide in welcome, instantly enveloping Lizzie in the familiar warmth of the cottage. Escaping the bitter chill of a winter’s day was like a hug, she thought as she stepped inside. There was a log fire burning lustily in the hearth, and warm woollen plaids draped invitingly over well-worn leather sofas, while the scent of freshly baked scones reminded Lizzie she hadn’t eaten in a while, but it was the warmth and concern on the faces of her two friends that drew her like a magnet into their home.

  ‘It’s so good to see you both again,’ she exclaimed, her voice muffled in Annie’s enthusiastic embrace.

  ‘Won’t you have a cup of tea with us, at least?’ Annie said, standing back, having sensed Lizzie’s tension.

  Afraid of breaking down, Lizzie shook her head. ‘That’s very kind of you, but there’s so much to do, and I want to get back to the big house and open it all up again.’

  ‘Your grandmother’s death was a great sadness to all of us,’ Hamish said quietly.

  He asked nothing of what the future would hold for him and Annie, Lizzie noticed as Hamish the gamekeeper handed her the keys. She didn’t know what she could do for them yet, but in spite of her grief she was determined to try. She clutched the keys in her hand until they bit into her palm. These weren’t just keys, they were a way of life. The future of everyone in the village was biting into her hand, reminding her of what she had to fight for.

  ‘I’m back for good,’ she said. ‘And somehow I’m going to straighten this mess out.’

  ‘We’re more worried about you, Lizzie,’ Hamish assured her in his soft Highland burr. ‘So please don’t be too proud to ask for help.’

  ‘I won’t be.’

  But she could use a miracle, Lizzie reflected as she walked home briskly, collar up, head down against the icy wind. She might be determined to save the estate, but she still had to work out how to do it, and with no money and no prospect of a job, and not even the qualifications she had been relying on, she had hardly made the best of starts. She glanced at her phone. Chico hadn’t rung again. He had probably given up by now. He must have heard the news about her grandmother’s death, and would have rung to offer his condolences. She was grateful to him for that, but he belonged to a phase of her life that was over now. Like her grandmother she would have to stand on her own from now on.

  * * *

  No wonder he’d had a bad feeling. There was a flight delay. Weather conditions were working against him. He was seething with impatience and there was nothing he could do about it. The one thing he couldn’t control was the weather.

  One day turned into two, with no sign of the unusually bad storm abating. He had too much time on his hands, and started asking himself why he hadn’t been more open with Lizzie. Why couldn’t he have talked to her when she was standing in front of him? Why did he have to wait until now to feel this fierce urge to set things straight between them? Why wouldn’t she pick up his calls?

  Passions ran too high when they were together, he concluded, deciding he must kill the anger, keep the sex, and develop the bond between them.

  Chico Fernandez counselling himself? What was his life coming to?

  Lizzie.

  Lizzie was all he could think about. He was worried about her. She’d lost her grandmother and her well-being concerned him. She would be in that big house all alone. That couldn’t be right. He tried telling himself that he would be equally concerned about any student on his course in Lizzie’s position, but that couldn’t explain his seething frustration, when Lizzie refusing to take his calls seemed like a throwback to the past when she hadn’t answered his letters. Now he knew she hadn’t received them, so were her parents back and giving her a hard time in Scotland? He had to find out. She would be in shock following the death of her grandmother, and at her most vulnerable.

  * * *

  This was so much worse than she had imagined, Lizzie thought when she switched on the light, though she supposed she should be relieved that the electricity hadn’t been turned off. Walking across the tiled hallway, she stood in the centre of the familiar worn rug beneath the familiar dusty chandelier, weighing up her childhood home. When her grandmother had moved back in, the house had resonated with bustle and laughter, but now it was dead and empty. Lizzie had felt safe here, but now it was silent and shrouded in shadow, as if the old house was waiting for someone to appreciate it again. She turned full circle, wondering why she hadn’t noticed how shabby it had become. The alchemy of her grandmother’s personality had worked its magic, she supposed, and now that was gone. When her grandmother had lived here, it hadn’t mattered that the rug was worn and the curtains were threadbare, because Lizzie’s grandmother had been a strong w
oman, larger than life, and she had filled the house with activity and laughter, but now it was just Lizzie and the spiders.

  So, she’d do something about it. Putting her bags down, she was on her way to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door that made her jump. Her heart leapt with excitement, and she had to tell herself firmly that even Chico couldn’t have flown here as quickly as that. And for goodness’ sake, why would he?

  It was Annie. Lizzie had never been so pleased to see her grandmother’s housekeeper. ‘I’m going to remove all the covers and make the house like new again,’ she explained as she ushered Annie into the hall. ‘I’m going to brave the spiders in the attic, find the decorations, and get ready for Christmas.’ They’d have a party, Lizzie decided even as she was saying this. The house hadn’t gone yet. They weren’t going down like a damp squib. They would go out in a blaze of glory as a tribute to her grandmother.

  ‘A party?’ Annie pursed her lips, and at first Lizzie thought the housekeeper might disapprove. Why wouldn’t she? It was such a crazy idea when Lizzie had no money to fund a party.

  ‘I think that’s an amazing idea,’ Annie said at last. ‘Your grandmother would definitely approve. Come on, let’s get started.’ Annie led the way to the utility area to select their weapons of choice.

  When they’d finished they sat back in the kitchen, exhausted, with a cup of tea. ‘Even if we’re evicted, the village will remember the party,’ Lizzie said with a smile of satisfaction at a job well done. Everything was gleaming and smelled fresh, but then reality kicked in and she pulled a face. ‘It’s just a pity I don’t have any money to make the party special.’

  ‘Your grandmother was much loved here,’ Annie said gently. ‘And if there’s going to be a miracle at Rottingdean, what better time for it to happen than at Christmas?’

  Lizzie sighed ruefully. She wished she could believe in miracles, but for Annie’s sake she kept those cynical thoughts to herself.

  * * *

  Her grandmother’s funeral was timed so there was a chance to hold a gathering afterwards. Even if they only drank cups of tea and sang songs, it would be something nice to do for her grandmother and those who had loved her, Lizzie thought, biting her lip with concern as she viewed the few coins and low-value bank notes she had tossed out of her change purse onto the bed.