“What do you want to name the baby?” he asked.
In truth, she hadn’t given that a thought with everything else going on in her life. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s pick some boys’ names.”
She quickly shot back, “No, no need. We are having a girl. The Valencia family only has girls. My grandmother, she had six sisters. All of them had daughters.”
He paled, maybe because he was thinking of what it would take to keep so many young ladies away from men like him. “Six girls?” he echoed, swallowing hard.
“Six, so no need to pick a boy’s name.”
“Duly noted,” he said and revived their earlier game, asking her question after question until she grew drowsy and yawned.
“I should go…” she said, but her eyes were drifting closed already, as were Rake’s. Her little angel popped up once more on her shoulder, her tone urgent. “Wake up, Josephine! You cannot stay the night with this man again!”
Just then, Rake wrapped an arm around her and urged her close, pillowing her head on his shoulder.
As her angel did a panicked dance, the devil emerged and with a satisfied smile said, “But his shoulder is so strong and warm and just too comfortable to resist, isn’t it, Josephine?”
It is just too comfortable to resist, she thought, and her angel grabbed the pitchfork from the devil and jabbed her, but it was too late.
Josephine had drifted off to sleep, Rake beside her.
Oh dear. So, if you’re keeping score at home, that’s two nights with Rake, and none with Martin. Something tells me that he’s not going to be too happy about this when he gets back to Miami.
It was late the next morning before Josephine awoke. She was tucked against Rake’s chest on the settee, their legs intertwined. Awareness dawning slowly, she shifted uncomfortably, trying to extricate herself gently, but Rake tightened his arm around her waist and drew her even closer. It was impossible to miss that he was all too ready for them to share another inappropriate moment.
Slightly panicked, Josephine jumped off the settee and when Rake stirred, offered a babbling excuse for not having breakfast with him and hurried off, carefully trying to make her way home without attracting too much notice. While she was grateful for all that he’d done the night before, Josephine worried there might be even more talk around the hotel should she be spotted leaving his room in yesterday’s clothing.
Still, she had to resign herself to the idea that wagging tongues were inevitable; she would soon be showing. Besides, the extra sleep had been sorely needed. With the dance troupe arriving later that afternoon, it was going to be a busy day.
Josephine spent most of her shift reserving seats for hotel guests for the premiere show. Her abuela popped in before going home, and with a slightly disapproving glance, she said, “We missed you for dinner, mi’ja.”
Leaning close, she whispered, “Nothing happened, Abuela. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Her grandmother narrowed her gaze, and Josephine must have passed her test. “Are you working late tonight now that Ronaldo is arriving?”
Excitement had crept into her grandmother’s usual no-nonsense tones. Josephine wanted to tell her abuela just how difficult and self-centered Ronaldo was, but she didn’t want to shatter her illusions. “I will have to get them settled and…” She reached into her desk and pulled out two tickets. “For you and Mami.”
Elation beamed from her grandmother’s features. “Oh, how exciting! Thank you, Josephine.”
“I have to be backstage in case anyone needs anything, but I’ll look for you and Mami after the show. Maybe we can arrange for you to meet Ronaldo.”
A totally girlish giggle and titter escaped her abuela before the older woman rushed off, clutching the tickets to her chest like a schoolgirl with a note from a beau.
Like the cherished letter tucked into her own skirt pocket. It was crinkled now that it had dried and a bit mangled around the edges. There were some ink smudges here and there, but to her, it was the most perfect thing she could possess. Besides the snow globe, of course.
If she could, she’d pull out the letter and read it and reread it, but the rush of people wanting tickets began again. Then, with only a couple of hours left before the troupe’s arrival, a stack of notes from Ronaldo were delivered by a messenger.
I will need fresh spring water in my room, please. Not too cold and not too hot.
Please do not forget the mangoes for after the show and the steak and eggs for breakfast.
I would like to take a nap before the show so, for that, I will need a different, east-facing room to avoid the afternoon sun. I would like your biggest, most grandest room, please.
Josephine gritted her teeth but made arrangements for all the entertainer’s demands. Rake had put her in charge of making sure everything went well for the troupe’s stay and gave her some time away from the concierge desk. That would be welcome since she worried about what some hotel patrons might think when she started to show, as well her fellow employees. No matter what, she intended to fulfill all her duties, especially since so far Sister Elizabeth had not been able to find anyone willing to hire her as a tutor. Josephine had been deemed too inexperienced with children. Ironically, in a few months she’d be showing, and once that happened, there was no way the sisters would help her find a job or that families would want a compromised young woman in their home.
But maybe once Martin was home and they could be married, that would change. A proper married woman was employable as a tutor, but maybe her short story would be published by then. If that happened, she might be able to sell more stories and not have to take on another job.
She had just returned from the rotunda and was doing a last check of the stage and the temporary backstage area when the entry doors banged open and loud voices spilled into the hotel’s lobby. The troupe had arrived.
Ronaldo was in the lead, head held high. Dressed in an elegant charcoal frock coat, double-breasted black vest, and black pants with a faint gray pinstripe, he cut quite a figure. If Abuela had been there, they might have needed to get her some smelling salts. A silver-headed cane rested over his arm, and as she approached him, he swept his silk top hat off his head and bowed gracefully.
“Miss Valencia, I presume.”
“Mr. de la Sera,” she said and held out her hand.
He surprised her by grasping it and dropping a kiss on the back of her hand. “You are the angel who has been so kind to deal with my many needs. Is all in order?”
Despite her annoyance at his demanding requests, Josephine found herself softening at his sweet words. As he smiled and met her gaze, there was genuine warmth there, creating an immediate connection with the entertainer. She extracted her hand, returned the smile, and nodded. “It is, sir. Let me show you to your rooms.”
As they walked, he kept up a steady stream of chatter about the trip to the Regal Sol, and Josephine found there was something charming about his exuberance and enthusiasm, even with his enlarged ego and dramatic affectations. She managed to get Ronaldo and the rest of the troupe members settled and take a slight break before she had to return for the big opening night.
Which gave her time to read Martin’s letter again and revive herself with the promise that they would soon be together once more.
Later that night, as she stood just off stage, it was easy to see why Ronaldo was so popular. He had a strong voice, and while the act itself could only be described in one word—flamboyant—it was appealing and had the audience laughing and clapping at the various skits. Judging from the sold-out performance and those standing along the back walls, the show was a huge success for the Regal Sol.
The fact that it went on without any problems was a success for her.
As the final skit came to an end, her mother rushed up to her as Josephine stood in the wings. She looked around for her abuela, thinking that her mother might have thought to sneak her backstage to meet Ronaldo, but her grandmother was nowhere to be seen. I
n fact, rather than excited, her mother seemed quite flustered and almost nervous.
“Mami, is something wrong?” she asked, growing worried.
Her mother shook her head and glanced over Josephine’s shoulder at the players on the stage. “No, I just thought we’d get out of here before the rush at the end of the show.”
Puzzled, she said, “But I thought Abuela wanted to meet Ronaldo.”
Zara waved her off. “No, not at all. She’s fine and we thought you might be tired after such a long day at work.”
She was, but then again, the success of the show and the promise of Martin’s return had given her the energy she needed to last through the day.
“I’m fine,” she said, but to her surprise, her mother took hold of her shirtsleeve and tugged her in the direction of the exit.
“We should go so you can get some rest,” she explained.
“Zara? Zara, is that you?” Ronaldo called out exuberantly as he flounced off the stage and rushed over to them. “It is you! I cannot believe it after all this time,” he said and wrapped Zara up in a tight and enthusiastic hug. He dropped a number of kisses on her cheeks.
Josephine watched in amazement. Although her mother looked stricken and rather much like she wanted to die, Ronaldo kept up his high-spirited greeting. “I never thought to see you again, and now here you are! How wonderful!”
The beaming smile on Ronaldo’s face was a stark contrast to her mother’s anxious features.
“What? Do you two know each other?” Josephine asked, incredulous. All the times Abuela had waxed poetic about Ronaldo, her mother had never given a hint that she actually knew the man.
Zara shot Ronaldo a nervous glance and slid from beneath the arm he had tossed over her shoulders. “It was a long time ago. We should really go—”
“Go? But we have just found each other again, my dear Zara!” Ronaldo grasped her mother’s hand again and drew her close. “You cannot leave. Please, you must stay and tell me what has happened to you since we shared that impossibly perfect night together under the stars!”
Josephine’s eyebrows rose dramatically. An impossibly perfect night under the stars?
Zara was trying to unsuccessfully extricate her hand when Josephine turned to Ronaldo and asked, “So, Mr. de la Sera, the two of you were…close?”
“Very close, Miss Josephine. When I was a younger man, only slightly younger of course, I was very much in love with Zara.”
Her mother screwed her eyes shut, just as Josephine’s own popped ever wider in surprise. Before she could ask another question, Abuela hurried over, a beaming smile on her face, and took hold of Josephine’s arm. “Mi’ja, wasn’t that just the most wonderful show? Ronaldo is even more handsome in person than I expected.”
Ronaldo preened with the compliment. “Thank you, kind lady! You have very good taste, I must say.”
Her abuela turned in surprise, and her jaw dropped as she realized Ronaldo was standing there. Her face went pale, then flushed with color. She covered the blush with her hands and stammered, “Mr. de la Sera. You were very—I-I really enjoyed the—Is it—Is it warm in here?” She waved a hand to fan the heat of her blush from her face.
Josephine bit her lip in amusement. She had never seen her grandmother so tongue-tied in all her life.
“Abuela, Mr. de la Sera was just telling me how he knows Mami.”
Her abuela whirled to face Zara in shock. “They do? You do?”
Josephine’s mother covered her face with her hands, but as Alberta started to ask another question, she was cut off by Ronaldo’s bewildered voice.
“Mami? Excuse me, Miss Josephine, but did you just say that Zara is your…moooo-ther?” He stretched the word out as if it were foreign and unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Yes, I did. Zara is my mother, and I’d love for you to finish the story of how you know each other.”
Silence stretched for a few long seconds as a funny look came over Ronaldo’s face, but he didn’t answer her. Instead he tenderly urged Zara’s hands from her face. He held them in his own, his thumbs rubbing gently across her mother’s knuckles. “Zara?” he asked, his usually booming voice now a hesitant whisper.
Her mother raised her gaze to Ronaldo’s and nodded, tentatively. Then, she heaved a shuddering sigh and, without turning back to Josephine, said the next words very calmly, very quietly, as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes.
“He’s your father.”
Oh my, Ronaldo is Zara’s long-lost traveling “soldier”? And Josephine’s long-lost father? Who could have foreseen this? Well, yes, of course, I could have, but I think everyone else is pretty surprised about now. Just wait until Ronaldo finds out he’s about to be a grandfather!
Chapter Twelve
Martin could barely contain his excitement as the miles of pines, mangroves, and coastline passed before his eyes as the train chugged toward Miami. The railcar was moving at a reasonable clip, but to him, it was as if it was standing still.
In less than an hour they’d arrive at the Florida East Coast Railway depot, and from there, he was going to head straight to the Regal Sol to see if Josephine was at work. If she wasn’t, he’d go to the cottages next in the hope that they would have time to talk and sort out the issues between them.
Then he’d have to head over to the local Pinkerton office so that he and Nita could brief their superior on the information they’d been able to gather in Palm Beach. Unfortunately, despite some promising leads, the trail of Sin Sombra had disappeared into the shadows much like the man himself. He was hoping that they could find the trail again once they returned to Miami since rumor had it that a huge shipment of illegal liquor would soon be arriving from Cuba.
“Do you think there’s some truth to that rumor about the contraband coming in?” Nita asked as she flipped through the small leather journal where she kept her notes on the case.
Martin shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s the only semi-credible lead we’ve got. Plus, it fits the pattern of what we’ve seen Sin Sombra do in the past.”
Nita arched a manicured brow. “So we hit the ground running once we get to Miami?”
He hesitated. That hadn’t been his game plan. In the last several weeks, he and Nita had spent a lot of time together on the case, and he knew she wanted more of his time and attention of a personal nature despite his telling her he had no interest.
Looking away, almost shamefaced, he said, “I need a little personal time before heading to the office.”
Nita pursed her lips, obviously discomfited. “Josephine?”
“I just need a few hours, that’s all,” he said.
Nita nodded. “Whatever you need, Martin. I mean that. Whatever you need.”
As he met her gaze, the meaning beneath the words was abundantly clear, only Martin had no interest in anyone but Josephine. Even though some might think him a fool for wanting her back, she made him feel things that no one else did. In Josephine, he had a true friend as well as someone who challenged him intellectually. As for physically…well, for two years he’d imagined what it would be like to be with her. The pleasure to be had from the feel of her creamy skin and lush curves against him. From the taste of her lips and the way her dark brown eyes melted like chocolate in the Miami sun with desire.
As upset as he was that another man had experienced that pleasure first, and that a child had been the result, he was man enough to forgive that. Man enough to raise another man’s child as his and hopefully create more of his own.
The woo-woo of the train horn sounding their arrival pulled him from his thoughts and made his heart beat more rapidly with anticipation. As the train stopped, he rose, grabbed his valise and Nita’s, and helped her down the steps and onto the train platform. They walked through the waiting room and breezeway out to where a number of carriages were waiting for patrons.
Luckily they had little time to wait before a carriage freed up and they were on their way to the Regal Sol…and Josephine.
Josephine stared at her mother as if seeing her for the first time.
Ronaldo stared at Josephine, seeing his daughter for the first time.
Zara stared at Ronaldo, thinking he didn’t look all that different from the first time she’d seen him.
“Y-y-ou t-t-old me he was a soldier,” Josephine said after a long, uncomfortable moment.
Ronaldo seemed startled at first, but then he threw back his shoulders and puffed up his chest. “Not just a soldier. I was playing a general, if I recall.”
Shock at his prideful statement rendered Josephine silent, giving Ronaldo time to continue. Hands held out before him in pleading, he faced Zara and said, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were with child? That I had such a lovely daughter?”
Tears shimmered in Zara’s eyes, but she managed to hold them back. “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until you’d left, and then I didn’t know how to find you.”
Ronaldo held his hands wide in disbelief. “I am everywhere, mi amor.”
“Which is why I could not track you down, Ronaldo,” Zara insisted. “You would be one place one day and another the next.”
But her mother had known for weeks he would be coming to the Regal Sol, Josephine thought, surprise at the revelation being replaced by anger. But before she could lash out, Ronaldo reached out and cupped her mother’s cheek tenderly.
“I am here now, Zara. And I never stopped wondering where you were. Never stopped thinking about you and how it was between us.”
“I’m so sorry, Ronaldo,” Zara said as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. Her mother faced her and said, “I’m so, so sorry, Josephine. I never meant to lie to you.”
But she had. Josephine couldn’t stand there another minute.
“I can’t…I-I have to go,” she said and raced off, leaving the two lovers to finish their reunion.
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