by Day Leclaire
Rafe sighed, his mouth set in grim lines. “The workers are on strike. Marvin’s nephew, Manuel, has told them not to pick the beans.”
No wonder Manuel had been fired. And how interesting that Marvin had neglected to mention that part. “Why are they striking?”
“Because I plan to sell Esperanza.”
“Sell your plantation?” She stared in disbelief. “But, it’s your home. It’s been in your mother’s family for generations. Why—”
“Enough, Ella.” He cut her off brusquely. “This need not concern you.”
“But it does concern me,” she argued. “If I’m to live here—”
“Which you are not.”
“A matter still open to discussion,” she corrected. “If I’m to live here, then I’d like to help.”
“You can’t help. Don’t you understand? This prophecy they speak of promises happiness and prosperity to the people of Milagro.”
“I know. Marvin explained it to me.”
“Then you must realize how impossible the situation is. How do you plan to fulfill this prophecy? They expect you to perform miracles.” His tone turned sardonic. “Or did you just happen to pack a dozen or so in your suitcase?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? Be careful where you point fingers, amada. I’m not the one claiming to be La Estrella.”
“I never claimed—”
“Nor have you managed to deny it.” He rested a hip on the edge of his desk, the dark material of his trousers pulled taut across his muscled thighs. “What happens when you are unable to give them what they expect?” “Is happiness and prosperity so difficult to achieve?” she asked gently. “If prosperity is dependent on picking coffee beans, than all we need to do is find a way to return the workers to the fields.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, really. Is that all? How little you know.”
“How can I know any more, if you won’t tell me?” she flung back.
“I’m telling you now. There is no room for compromise with the villagers. They will not work. So much for their prosperity. And their happiness? What will you do to gain that, princesa?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Wave your magic wand and grant their dearest wish.”
She shrugged. “It might be just that simple.”
“Then you are as foolish as they.”
“If you consider it foolish to believe in the possibility of happiness and miracles, then yes. I’m a fool.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I suspect it’s exactly what you meant. But I don’t mind.” She leaned against the door leading to the central corridor and regarded him intently. “Do you realize that it’s New Year’s Day?”
“Is it?” He thrust a hand through his hair. It was longer than when she’d last seen him, falling heavily across his forehead and along the nape of his neck. “As a matter of fact, I’d forgotten.”
“Then I’m glad I’m here to remind you. Because today offers the chance for a new beginning.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that as of today I start my campaign to restore your faith. I suspect you’re too cynical to convince right away. But eventually, I hope to change that.”
“It won’t happen,” he stated with cold assurance. “Not in a week. Not in a month. Not even if you had a full year.”
“You’re so certain?”
“I’m positive.”
“Well, I don’t agree.” She thought fast. “I’ll bet that before I leave I can perform a few miracles on you, too—like restoring your trust and your faith. And maybe, just maybe,” she suggested daringly, “I can even restore your belief in love.”
A bitter coldness swept his expression, his eyes turning a bleak, slate gray. “You will lose this bet, amada.”
“But if I win—”
He nailed her with an unyielding gaze. “Let us be clear. If I could, I’d send you home right now. So much for faith and new starts. Unfortunately, to return you to Nevada is no longer possible. At least, not yet.”
“Because of the prophecy?”
His mouth twisted. “I’d rather not be the one to drive La Estrella away. Better she be run off by the good people of Milagro once they realize she’s a fraud. My guess is that will take about a week, which is fortunate since that’s all the time you have.”
“You’re far too generous.”
“More generous than you know.”
“In that case, it looks like I have my work cut out for me. Which reminds me...” She shifted from her stance at the door and approached him with a concerned frown. “Perhaps you can help me perform my first miracle. I’m supposed to convince you to rehire Manuel.”
He laughed, the sound deep and sincere and incredibly appealing. “For that, amada, you will need a true miracle. I have vowed that Manuel won’t be rehired unless the workers return to the coffee fields. They won’t return unless I promise not to sell the plantation. And that I will never do. In fact, I meet with the buyers in the morning to finalize the terms of our agreement.”
“You never did say why you want to sell.” A sudden thought struck and alarm darkened her eyes. “Rafe... You’re not in financial trouble, yourself? You don’t have to sell, do you?”
“Yes, I have to sell. But not for financial reasons.”
“Then—”
“It’s personal. And as I’ve said before, none of your concern.” He walked past her and stood by the door. “Come. I’ll make sure the rest of your luggage has reached your room. Would you like Chelita to help you unpack?”
“I can manage to transfer my clothing from suitcase to dresser drawer without assistance, thanks.” She joined him at the door. “Despite what you think I’m quite self-sufficient.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” He stared down at her. “And just so you know. You may claim to love me, but they’re just words. There can only be one explanation for your presence. And that’s to prevent me from harming your parents. Any other excuse is a smoke screen.”
“That’s not true. Besides, if you can actually do as you claim—affect their finances, as you say—that means you could have done it at any point over the past five years. But you didn’t” She smiled up at him. “If you’d really wanted revenge, you’d have taken it long before this.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I believe.”
“You consider me incapable of harming your parents?” he questioned curiously.
“Of course. I—”
He cupped the side of her face, sealing her tips with his thumb. “Listen to me now. And listen carefully. I will not be diverted from my purpose by you or anyone else. To think otherwise is to risk more disillusionment. Will your parents give me my agreement?” He caressed the length of her mouth before releasing her.
She moistened her lips. “I haven’t asked them to, no.”
“Then fair warning. Their fate is in your hands.”
“No, Rafe,” she countered. “It’s in yours.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the door and stepped to one side, bringing the interview to an end. She’d both lost ground and gained ground, she realized as she returned to her bedroom. She’d won the right to remain at Rafe’s finca—for the moment. But only at the risk of her parents’ financial security. If she were smart, she’d give him what he’d demanded and leave. Unfortunately, to do that meant relinquishing any chance of a future with him. She didn’t doubt that her marriage would last only as long as she continued to have something he wanted.
A light tapping at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Ella?” Shayne peeked into the bedroom, tucking a strand of honey-blond hair into the formal twist at the nape of her neck. She gazed at Ella, her huge, dark eyes oddly expressionless. “May I come in?”
“Shayne!” Ella ran to greet her, enveloping the younger girl in a warm embrace. It was returned with a surprising fierceness before Shayne pulled sharply away. “It’s been so long.”
&nb
sp; “Five years. Five very long years.” Aside from a nervous knotting of her fingers, Shayne’s composure appeared picture-perfect. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
Tears pricked Ella’s eyes. “And just look at you...” She scanned her one-time friend for changes—astonished by how many there were. “You’re taller, I think, and—” Cooler. More remote. More like Rafe. “Why, you’re all grown up,” she finished lamely.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Shayne took a hesitant step into the room. “I stopped by to...to apologize. This entire situation with Rafe is my fault.”
“Your fault?” Ella moved away from the door. “Come in and talk to me while I unpack. Why do you think any of this is your fault?”
Shayne perched on the edge of the bed, her posture stiffly erect, her attitude far too reserved for someone who’d just turned twenty-three. “The ticket Rafe used to attend the ball was mine.”
“Yours!”
“He had a fit when he found out what I’d planned, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
Ella shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. How did you manage to get a ticket? Guests have to fill out an application well in advance. We have everyone screened by a security company. I’d have known if you had applied.”
“Oh, I circumvented that,” Shayne revealed. “I talked a friend into applying for me. I planned to use his ticket once he received it, but I’d forgotten that you use special messengers to deliver them. It was a foolish error.”
“The application was in his name?”
“Yes.” A strand of hair came loose again and with an impatient grimace, she tucked it behind her ear. “When the messenger arrived to deliver the ticket, it caused quite a commotion in the village. Eventually word reached Rafe. He realized at once what I’d done.”
“I see...” Ella gazed at Shayne in concern. “Why in the world—”
“I’m sure you can guess. I thought Chaz might be there.” Her response was stark. To the point. And utterly devastating. “It’s the same reason I tried to attend the Anniversary Ball. If it hadn’t been for the accident ...” She trailed off and shrugged.
Ella inhaled sharply. “That’s when you were hurt? On the way to the Anniversary Ball?”
Shayne glanced at Ella uncertainly. “Didn’t you know about that?”
“Not until recently.” She crossed to sit on the bed, catching Shayne’s hands in her own. “Sweetheart, I wish you’d called instead of going to so much trouble. I could have told you Chaz wouldn’t be there.”
A hint of dark emotion flitted across the younger girl’s face before vanishing beneath a mask of composure. “You’re certain?”
“I checked the list myself.”
Shayne bowed her head. “It was stupid, I know. If I’d just left well enough alone, Rafe wouldn’t have bothered to go after you again. That’s why he’s so determined to end the Cinderella Balls. Because of me.”
“You let me worry about that. He might still surprise you.”
“For your sake, I hope so.” Shayne hesitated before rushing into speech. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.” Again came that flash of emotion and again she brought it under swift control. “You never told Rafe what happened, did you?”
“At the Cinderella Ball five years ago?” Ella clarified. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him I’d lied? That you hadn’t invited me?”
“For one simple reason. I’d never do anything to harm your relationship with Rafe.”
“I—” She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” Ella’s gaze held a flash of fire. “I didn’t do it for your sake, Shayne. I did it for his.”
“I see.” She seemed to gather herself. “I owe you an apology. A long overdue apology. I took advantage of you. Worse, I ruined your relationship with my brother. I realize nothing I can say now will ever make up for the wrong I did. But I am sorry.”
“You were only seventeen. I understood.”
“That’s more than Rafe would have,” Shayne said candidly. “Still, I hurt you both. Terribly. I hope you can forgive me one day.”
Ella smiled. “I forgave you long ago.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’ve never told him the truth, either. Have you?”
“I’ve tried,” Shayne replied. “I’ve gotten as far as admitting it was my fault. But he won’t listen. I’m not sure he wants to hear the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
For a brief instant, her composure shattered and Ella caught a glimpse of a grief-torn woman. “I still love Chaz McIntyre. It’s been five years and nothing’s changed.”
“Is that why you keep coming back? You hope to find him again?”
Shayne nodded. “Rafe had the marriage annulled because I was underage. You want to know the funny part?” A heartbreaking smile chased across her mouth. “If the ball had been just one day later, I’d have been eighteen. And the ending to my story might have been very different.”
“Shayne—”
She stood abruptly, pulling her hands free. “I can’t talk about it anymore. Excuse me, won’t you?” She paused at the door, her back rigid, her hand clinging to the knob. “Dinner’s at seven. I’ll see you then.”
The door shut softly behind her.
Ella closed her eyes. There had to be something she could do. Some way she could help to put Shayne’s life right again.
It would seem that La Estrella had yet another miracle to perform.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I’M so pleased you’ve come, Ella,” Shayne attempted to break the silence at dinner that evening. “Is this a... prolonged visit?”
“Yes. Very prolonged.”
“No,” Rafe retorted at the same instant. “It will be very brief.”
Chelita paused in the act of pouring him a glass of wine, her expression patently horrified. “Oh, Señor Beaumont, you will not make La Estrella leave! The villagers, we need her.”
“La Estrella?” Shayne questioned, glancing from one to the other. “What’s she talking about?”
Rafe released his breath in an impatient sigh. “I have no intention of making her do any such—Chelita, the wine?”
The housekeeper hastened to right the bottle before it overflowed the glass. “Oh! Lo siento, Señor Beaumont. It’s just that we are so happy. She has finally come after all this time and—”
“No one told me she’d finally come,” Shayne complained. “Where is she? Who is she? Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Um. I’m what’s going on,” Ella confessed. “I guess I forgot to mention it earlier. It seems that Marvin and Chelita have gotten it into their heads that I’m La Estrella.”
Shayne’s mouth dropped open “You’re—”
“Chelita,” Rafe interrupted with a frown. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, this wine tastes suspiciously like champagne.”
“Si, Señor. I knew you would want to celebrate the arrival of La Estrella.”
“You knew this, did you?”
“It is obvious,” she said, missing his sarcasm. “Everyone is so excited. Now will come the happiness and prosperity her arrival promises. We should celebrate such a miracle.”
“Unless, of course,” Shayne said in an innocent-sounding voice, “my dear brother sends her home.”
“Damn it, Shayne!”
“Send her home?” Chelita slammed the bottle onto the table, suspicion swiftly replacing her earlier enthusiasm. She glared at Rafe. “You will take La Estrella from us, Senor Beaumont? You would do that to the people of Milagro?”
A muscle leapt in his jaw. “I have no intention of sending her anywhere.”
“Then I’m permitted to stay?” Ella inserted smoothly. “For longer than a week?”
All eyes pivoted to Rafe.
He drained his glass in a single swallow and set the flute on the table with enough force to make the fragile crystal vibrate in protest. “I am not
accustomed to being interrogated in my own home.”
“But, La Estrella—” Chelita began in protest.
“La Estrella is free to come and go as she pleases.” His gaze switched to Ella, a silent order glittering in the wrathful gray depths of his eyes. “Before long, I expect it will please her to return home. End of discussion. Chelita, serve the dinner, por favor.”
The housekeeper folded her arms across her chest. “Not until you promise to keep her.”
“Chelita!”
“Fine! I will serve the dinner. And I will bring a wine more to your liking.” Snatching up the bottle, she headed for the kitchen, continuing to voice her complaints in rapid Spanish.
“Gee, I sort of liked the champagne,” Shayne murmured. “I thought it a nice touch.”
“I believe you’ve caused enough trouble for one evening,” Rafe said, frowning at his sister. Then his eyes softened. “But it is good to see you so animated. Perhaps Ella’s visit has had some benefit, after all.”
“Three cheers for me,” Ella muttered.
Her comment drew his attention. “May I suggest you change the subject to something less volatile, amada? Or would you care to return to my office and continue our previous discussion? We could pick it up where we last left off.”
Choosing the safer of the proffered choices, Ella addressed her sister-in-law. “How’s your mosaic work going? I look forward to seeing your latest pieces.”
It was unquestionably the wrong topic to choose. The color bleached from Shayne’s cheeks and she copied Rafe’s example, swallowing her champagne in a single gulp before returning the flute to the table. Once again the fragile crystal sang in protest. “I haven’t done any mosaic work since... In a long time. I’m studying to be an accountant now.”
“An accountant!” Ella couldn’t conceal her distress. “But you’re so talented. How could you—”
“Dinner, it is ready,” Chelita interrupted, pushing a wooden serving cart into the dining room. After replacing the wine, she removed a silver cover from the first dish and set a steaming plate in front of Ella. “For you, Estrella, I have made a special Tico meal called casado.”
Shayne began to laugh. “That’s meant to be amusing, Ella. A Tico joke. You see casado in Spanish means a married man. The dish is supposed to be what a husband can routinely expect from his wife once he’s safely caught and wed. It’s sort of a pot luck—a little of everything. There’s rice and beans—”
