He would stay and bury his father, then leave Mexico and not look back. His life and his future were in Brazil, and that future did not include interacting with Oscar Spencer’s widow.
Chapter 3
Regina returned to her bedroom and changed out of the dress and into a pair of cotton eyelet pajamas. She much preferred sleeping nude, but had acquired the habit of wearing pajamas to bed because she had never known when she would be summoned to Oscar’s bedroom and she hadn’t wanted to waste time getting dressed.
Walking over to the French doors, she opened them and stepped out onto the second-story veranda. The calming silence of the Mexican night swallowed her whole, filling her with a peace she had not felt in years. The past ten years had changed her into someone who had become a stranger—even to herself.
She had missed a lot of milestones a woman her age should have experienced: dating, traveling with her girlfriends and attending parties. She had missed seeing her brother and sister grow into adolescence, and she felt detached from her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and her many cousins.
She met Oscar Spencer at seventeen, married him at nineteen and he left her widowed at twenty-seven. She had given him a total of ten years of her young life, and she wondered about the next ten. For the first time in her life she was alone—alone to make decisions that would not include anyone but herself.
A soft chiming shattered her musings. Leaving the veranda, she returned to the bedroom to answer the telephone. “Hola,” she said softly.
“Cupcake.”
A bright smile softened her delicate features. “Daddy!”
Minutes after her husband died, she had called her parents and left a message with their housekeeper. The woman informed her that her family had gone up to West Palm Beach for a few days.
“We just got back and heard the news. How are you, Baby?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
“Hold on a minute, Cupcake. I can’t talk to you and your mother at the same time.”
Regina sank down to the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. Hearing her father’s voice reminded her of what was waiting for her once she tied up all of the loose ends of her life in Mexico; she never realized how much she missed her family until she heard their voices or they left after a visit. They had always come to see her in Mexico, because most times Oscar was too weak to travel more than a few miles from home.
Martin Cole’s soft, Southern drawl came through the wire again. “Your mother says you should expect us within two days.”
“No, Daddy, don’t. I don’t want you to come.”
“Why not? I’m not going to let you go through this by yourself. Hasn’t Oscar Spencer taken enough from you?”
Biting down hard on her lower lip, she chose her words carefully. Her father still hadn’t forgiven her for marrying Oscar, and whenever he came to visit her and Oscar, it had been obvious he afforded the older man a modicum of respect because of his age, not because he was her husband. Oscar had been twenty years her father’s senior.
“I’m not alone, Daddy. Oscar’s son is here. And after we bury him and settle the estate, then I’m coming home.”
There was a noticeable silence before Martin responded. “Are you coming home to visit?”
Her smile returned. “No. I’m coming back to stay.”
“I like the sound of that. Are you certain you don’t want your mother or me to come? She can come without me.”
“I want to handle this myself. I’ll keep in touch, and let you know when to expect me.”
“Okay, Baby. Let me put your mother on before she has a fit.”
Regina spent the next quarter of an hour talking to her mother. She laughed, the low, seductive sound of her voice filling the room when Parris Cole confided that seventeen-year-old Tyler Cole had shown a marked interest in a girl at his school.
“I can’t believe it,” she chuckled. “My little brother in love.”
“I wouldn’t call it love,” Parris countered. “But I must say that he’s quite infatuated with her.”
“Is she at least a nice girl, Mommy?”
“She’s lovely, but as quiet and shy as he is.”
Wincing, Regina shook her head. “Do they talk?”
“He spends hours on his phone with her.”
“I guess that means that they talk. How’s Ari?”
She missed her brother, but missed her sister more. They were thirteen years apart, and she did not know why but she felt more like Arianna’s mother than her older sister. Arianna called her every week to talk, and she usually wound up giving Ari advice about everything from interacting with her parents to dealing with the erratic behavior of her peers.
Parris offered an update on Arianna’s latest escapades. She ended the call with a promise that she would contact all of the Coles for a family reunion once she confirmed a date for her return.
“As I told Daddy, I’m not certain how long it will be before Oscar’s estate is settled, but I’m hoping to be back within a month.”
“Today is August eighteenth. Which means we can expect you the middle of September,” Parris stated firmly.
“Let’s say October first.”
“I can’t wait, Angel. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed you.”
“I know, Mommy, because I’ve missed you more than I want to admit. But you know I had to fulfill my marriage vows.”
“And you did. Now it’s time for you to live.”
What she wanted to tell her mother was that she had been living, that marrying Oscar had been her choice and that she had loved him as much as Parris loved Martin. She had given Oscar Spencer eight years, eight years she did not regret.
She rang off, replaced the receiver in its cradle, then lay across the bed. Closing her eyes, smiling, she remembered the night the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences honored Oscar with his namesake for his directorial effort for Silent Witness.
She had crawled into bed with him and held him while he shed shameless tears of joy. She had not shared his joy, because she blamed the Academy for waiting until the brilliant director was sixty-seven, ill, and at the end of his career, to honor him. It was at that moment that she swore she would never make another film, but Oscar had persuaded her to accept one more—one more before she left the business for good. And his prediction had come true when he said he doubted whether she would complete more than three films.
Now, opening her eyes, she leaned over and turned a switch on the bedside lamp, leaving one bulb lit in the crystal base. There was enough light for her to see the familiar objects in the room. Pulling a sheet up over her body, she closed her eyes and slept a dreamless sleep.
Regina overslept for the first time in years. The sun was up, the household stirring, while Aaron waited for her on the patio. He’d declined Rosa’s offer of breakfast, preferring to wait for her. He wanted to conclude the arrangements for his father’s funeral, then confirm his return trip to Brazil.
He had slept fitfully, his mind filled with painful and agonizing memories—memories of pain, rage and guilt. His father had wanted to explain his decision to marry Sharon, but he wouldn’t listen. He had turned his back on his father, knowing no amount of rationalizing could counter his deception.
His dark gaze was fixed on a small green lizard that had attached itself to the sand-colored wall. The tiny reptile was joined by another, and the two lizards regarded each other for a full minute before one scampered away.
He detected Regina’s approach seconds before he saw her. The familiar fragrance of her perfume wafted in the warm morning air, filling his sensitive nostrils. Rising to his feet, he stood, turned and stared numbly as she crossed the patio. His respiration quickened. She was awesome, more shockingly beautiful than he remembered.
She was elegantly attired in a black business suit with a slim skirt ending several inches above her knees. A fitted, hip-length jacket claimed a single button, calling attention to her tiny waist. A pair of black,
patent leather pumps and a single strand of large, magnificent cultured pearls with matching earrings completed her attractive presentation.
Extending her right hand, Regina gave Aaron a bright smile. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
The wait was worth it, he mused. “It’s all right. My body’s circadian rhythms still have not adjusted to your time zone.” Ignoring her proffered hand, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”
Her eyes widened, and she pulled back. “Good morning,” she mumbled softly.
Aaron moved over to the table under the shade of a brightly colored umbrella, and pulled out a chair. She thanked him while allowing him to seat her. He circled the table and sat opposite her. What he had not been able to observe the night before was ardently displayed in the full sunlight.
She had brushed her hair off her face and secured it in a simple twist at the back of her head. Sleep had erased the slight puffiness under her eyes, and they gleamed like polished onyx. His mesmerized gaze catalogued the sweep of her naturally arching eyebrows, the delicate symmetry of her features, and the stubborn set of her rounded chin. Her face was slender, with cheekbones set high enough for her to be thought of as exotic.
Her gaze locked with his as each engaged in a silent examination of the other. She studied his face, feature by feature, wondering if he, too, had disapproved of his father marrying someone as young as she was.
“How old were you when you married Oscar?” he questioned softly, verbalizing her musings.
She arched an eyebrow. “Nineteen.”
He recoiled as if she had struck him. “And how long were you married?”
“Eight years.”
He frowned. “He was fifty years older than you.” He made it sound like an accusation instead of a fact.
Tilting her head, she stared down her nose at him. “Fifty years older than me, and twenty years older than my father.”
He couldn’t believe it. She’s only twenty-seven. He knew she was young, but he had hoped that she was at least in her thirties. He was thirty-seven—ten years older. That meant she was practically still a child when she married Oscar. At least Sharon had been twenty-four, and a woman—a very experienced woman.
“Did your father object to you marrying a man so much older than you?”
“He couldn’t object. He didn’t know I was married until a week after Oscar and I had exchanged vows.”
“He disapproved?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not one to seek approval from anyone—especially my parents.”
Sitting up straighter, Aaron draped an arm over the back of his chair. He was intrigued with Regina Spencer, intrigued enough to want to know more about the woman who had seduced Oscar and had gotten him to marry her. And he did not want to deceive himself because he knew his father, regardless of his age, was a suitable catch for any woman. Not only had Oscar been considerate, gentle and brilliantly creative, but he also had been a very wealthy man.
There was no doubt Regina had married Oscar for his money. Why else would a nineteen-year-old girl marry an old, terminally ill man?
Whatever his suspicions, he knew they would be revealed at the reading of Oscar’s will. Only time would tell why she had married his father. She had admitted that she did not love Oscar when she married him, so it had to be for money.
Regina glanced at the watch on her wrist. “We’re scheduled to meet with the funeral director at eleven-thirty.”
Aaron looked at his own watch. It was after eight-thirty. “How long should it take us to get there?”
“We should make it within two hours, but one can never tell with the city traffic.” That meant they had to eat breakfast, then leave within half an hour. And as if on cue, Rosa appeared, pushing a serving cart filled with juice, fresh fruit, freshly baked bread and a steaming pot of strong, fragrant Mexican coffee.
Rosa placed the dishes on the table, then poured coffee into translucent china cups painted with delicate blue flowers. “Will there be anything else, Señora?”
“Tell Jaime to have the car ready for nine-fifteen. Dr. Spencer and I will be going to the city.”
“Sí, Señora.”
Aaron waited until the housekeeper walked away, then turned his attention to Regina, studying her with a curious intensity. Everything about her indicated she had been spoiled and pampered. She issued orders to others as if she had been doing it for years. The night before she hadn’t waited for him to acknowledge whether he had wanted to eat when she said, We’ll dine on the patio. She had turned her back and walked away, expecting him to follow her. What surprised him was that he had—he’d followed her like someone in a trance.
And he had also spent a restless night dreaming—dreaming of the rare occasions when he shared more than two months in a given year with Oscar Spencer, and dreaming about the woman who had offered his father companionship during the last eight years of his life. And it was now—in the full sunlight—that he knew he wanted to know everything about Regina.
Buttering a slice of bread still warm from the oven, he said, “Where are you from?”
Regina, caught off guard by the questions, nearly spilled the cream she poured into her coffee cup. “Florida.”
He arched a questioning eyebrow. “You don’t sound as if you’re from the South.”
She took a sip of the rich, strong brew. It was perfect. She had grown to love coffee and everything about it: taste, smell, and its soothing properties.
Placing her cup on its saucer, she met Aaron’s questioning gaze. “I was born in New York, and spent the first nine and a half years of my life there. Then I moved to Florida. How about yourself?”
“My father didn’t tell you about me?”
She shook her head. “Your father did not discuss his past with me. I knew he’d been married twice before he married me, and that he had a son from his first marriage.”
A muscle flicked noticeably in Aaron’s left cheek, and at the same time his mouth tightened into a thinning line. It was apparent Oscar hadn’t told her the reason for their estrangement.
“I find that odd,” he remarked in a quiet tone.
“Odd? Why?”
“Because a husband and wife should not have secrets between them.”
Sitting up straighter, Regina leaned forward. “Is there something Oscar should’ve told me about why he did not want me to contact you until after his death?”
“What you’re asking me is something you should’ve questioned your late husband about.”
“I did.” The two words exploded from her mouth.
His eyes widened when he registered her rising temper. A rush of color suffused her clear, gold-brown skin, and her breasts rose and fell heavily under the lightweight fabric of her suit jacket.
Spreading his hand out, palms upward, he drawled, “And?”
“And he wouldn’t tell me.”
Placing his hands on the table, Aaron leaned forward, a feral grin curving his strong, attractive mouth. “And neither will I.”
Regina recoiled as if he had slapped her and slumped back against the cushioned softness of her chair. Whatever it was that kept father and son alienated would remain untold. Oscar had carried the secret to his grave, and no doubt Aaron would do the same.
It no longer mattered to her. She planned to begin her life anew, and her future would not include either of the Spencer men. She would always love Oscar and carry his memory within her heart, but that was what he would be become—a memory—while Dr. Aaron Spencer would return to Brazil and his research projects, which had become his lifelong obsession.
She would return to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, reconnect with her family, then put into motion what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Picking up her cup, she flashed Aaron a dazzling dimpled smile. Surprisingly, he returned it with a bright one of his own.
He took a sip of coffee, rolling it around on his tongue before letting it slide down the back of his throat.
It was excellent. In fact, the quality was far superior to the beans grown on his coffee plantation.
“Did you learn Spanish after you moved here?” he queried, still wanting to know more about his enticing dining partner.
“No. My grandmother taught me.”
“Cuban?”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” What he didn’t say was that the largest concentration of Spanish-speaking people in Florida were of Cuban ancestry.
“How about you, Aaron? Why do you prefer to call Brazil home?”
He hesitated, savoring the soft, husky sound of his name rolling off her tongue. It was the first time she had said his name without his prompting her. Whenever she addressed him as Dr. Spencer he felt her sarcasm.
“My research.”
“Is that the only reason? Couldn’t you do your research in the States?”
“I could, but there’s no way I could manage my coffee plantation from thousands of miles away.”
What he did not say was that living in Brazil was far enough away from the States so that he wouldn’t have to hear or read about Oscar Spencer, though the news of his winning the coveted Academy Award for his last film had reached him when he sat down to view the evening news ten years ago. The moment he’d heard his father’s name mentioned, he turned off the television. The pain of Oscar and Sharon’s deception still had not faded, after two years.
“Why don’t you hire an overseer to manage your plantation?”
“I have one.”
A slight frown wrinkled her smooth forehead. “I don’t see the correlation.” Her family’s business conglomerate, ColeDiz International Ltd., owned coffee plantations in Belize, Puerto Rico, and Jamaica, yet her father or uncles were never directly responsible for planting or harvesting the crop.
Aaron smiled a full smile, the gesture transforming his face and causing Regina to catch her breath. His eyes tilted higher in an upward slant, and his full upper lip flattened against the ridge of his teeth, offering her a glimpse of their perfection. Her gaze moved slowly from his mouth to his eyes as they appeared to wink at her. She found his smile so infectious that she returned it with a dimpled one of her own.
Harvest Moon Page 3
