by Phoebe Conn
The waiter put her empty teacup on his tray. “You are too pretty to look so sad. I could show you around Palma and give you a very good time.”
She picked up her bag. “Thank you, but I’ve other plans.” She mailed the postcards and had started back to the hotel when their photographer, Jaime Campos, overtook her.
“I’m glad I found you so we can talk privately. Let’s stop here.”
Ana didn’t want another cup of tea, but sat with him in the outdoor café. He ordered a beer and leaned back to enjoy it. “How many times have we worked together, Ana?”
Jaime had the haggard look of a photo-journalist, and she’d heard he’d worked in Iraq. He always wore baggy khaki shirts and pants and dusty boots as though he’d be ready if a war broke out that afternoon. He was a fine fashion photographer, however, and she enjoyed working with him. “Half a dozen times, I suppose.”
He nodded. “You’re one of my favorites, and I’d like to work with you on some art photography for a gallery show.”
Ana raised a brow. “Are you talking about nudes?”
“A woman’s figure is a glorious subject, and with your long hair, you’d never look completely undressed.”
She glanced away. It was such a beautiful afternoon, but she wasn’t in a warm mood. “Jaime, you do excellent work, but I don’t do nudes, ever.”
“Has anyone else asked it of you?”
“Not since I let it be known that I’d not consider it. I do fashion, not so-called ‘art photography’.”
“But I plan a serious study of the female figure—everything elegant with artistic backgrounds. Nothing tacky like a cheap girly calendar.”
Growing more emphatic, Ana rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. She kept her voice low. “I wish you good luck with the project, but I won’t be part of it.”
His lower lip bulged in disappointment. “I’ve always made you look as beautiful as you are, but if I let a shadow fall across your face each time you pose tomorrow, you might be cut from the final ad.”
Ana grabbed hold of his sleeve and, nearly shaking with anger, twisted hard. “Are you threatening me? It’s a very bad idea when I could shred your career with every designer I know. If your work isn’t up to its usual high standard tomorrow, I’ll tell Galen why not.” She stood and tightened her hold on her bag. “Let’s forget this conversation ever took place. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Jaime stared as she walked away, his mouth agape.
Ana knew she’d probably overreacted, but Jaime must have finally gotten her message. She walked back to the hotel and around to the courtyard. She sat down on the garden wall and called Alejandro while she was too mad to realize it wasn’t a good idea. “Hi, it’s Ana.”
“Hi, Ana. How are things going on Mallorca?”
She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Not all that well, but I hope they’ll run more smoothly tomorrow.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you want to add a few details?”
She bit her lip, then burst out with it. “Not about that, but Alejandro, my black hair is a wig. I’m blonde.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t like blondes?”
He laughed. “Blondes are fine, redheads, whatever. You could show up bald, and I’d still like you.”
“That’s comforting.” Now that she’d blurted out the least important thing about herself, she grew cautious. “The crew is having dinner together tonight, and I need to get going.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“One of the models is probably passed out in the bar, and that’s going to make tomorrow difficult.”
“You could take her place, but that would make it hard to take the photos, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Call me tonight if you want to, or tomorrow, whenever you have a chance.”
“Thanks.” Ana ended the call and doubted he’d remain so agreeable for long. All she had to do was show up looking like herself, and the paparazzi would circle his building like sharks. She hated them, but she was used to their shouts for smiles. He’d not enjoy finding himself in the tabloids as her mystery lover. He’d just shake his head and wish her a good life.
Despite Ana’s misgivings, dinner went rather well. Lourdes was only tipsy and thought every comment hilarious which made everyone laugh. Ana had taken a seat on the same side of the table as Jaime so she wouldn’t have to look at him while they ate. Galen talked at length about what a beautiful background Palma made for his fashions. With the mountains of the Tramuntana and circled by the sea, he said he might bring them all back to Mallorca in the fall.
Valeria leaned close to Ana. “You’re awfully quiet. Did you leave someone exciting at home?”
Ana was afraid saying so would jinx their affair and shrugged. “It’s too soon to tell.”
“You have the hope, then. I haven’t dated anyone fun in months. Men want to be photographed with me, but that’s the extent of their interest. I’m going to find some nice school teacher or attorney, a doctor maybe, someone with substance.”
“Substance is good,” Ana assured her. “We live in an imaginary world where the latest fashion is more highly regarded than anything of real significance. This should be a fun job, though.”
“Yes, but location shoots are a challenge for me. Ten minutes outside and I’ll resemble a lobster too closely. Galen promises he’ll watch the time.”
“I’m sure he will.”
The dinner party ended early so they’d all be ready to work at six the following morning. As Ana left the table, Valeria touched her arm. “Come outside with me a moment. There’s something I need to ask you.”
Ana doubted she could give valuable advice on any topic, but she wasn’t sleepy. “It’s a lovely night. Let’s go out to the courtyard.”
Valeria led the way, and they strolled near the low wall. “Did Jaime ask you to do some art photography?”
Ana bet he’d told her she was one of his favorites too. “He did, but I’m not interested. What did you tell him?”
“I said I’d think about it. He insisted I could trust him to show off my figure to every advantage. I’m paid for not having much in the way of curves, so I’d be a poor subject, but he raved about my hair.”
“You do have magnificent red hair, Valeria.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it gets me work. I have a bad feeling about Jaime’s project, but I don’t want him to be angry with me when we do the shoot tomorrow.”
“He’ll take the blame if we don’t look good, so I wouldn’t worry. Don’t let him coerce you into posing nude. With digital photography, photos can go around the world in less time than it used to take to develop a single shot in a darkroom.”
Valeria appeared to be really distressed. “That’s what worries me. The tabloids would put us on the front page and make fun of us for being too slender to look at without high-fashion clothes.”
Ana gave her a quick hug. “I’m thoroughly sick of the tabloids too. Tell Jaime after the shoot that you’ve decided not to do it. There are plenty of girls who will. Let them worry about the consequences.”
“I knew you’d know what to do. You’re always confident, and I admire you for it.”
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t go that far,” Ana replied with a gentle laugh. “Have you ever heard of Lorenzo Lamoreaux?”
“The name’s vaguely familiar. Does he do shoes?”
“Yes, he does. Someone sent me a pair. I’ll contact him when I get home.”
Valeria brushed her fingertips over her flying curls. “Let me know if he likes women with red hair.”
“I will.” They went inside to go to their rooms, but Ana was tempted to go right back out and call Alejandro. Really tempted, but rather than appear desperately needy, she let it go.
Mimi had a delicate touch with makeup and brought out each model’s exquisite beauty without overdoin
g it. They were photographing print ads for Galen’s holiday line, and the long, painted silks flowed easily on the morning breeze. The Palau de l’Amudaina had two tiers of beautiful arched arcades, and with that frame, even the most casual pose was extraordinarily lovely.
Ana followed Jaime’s directions and struck graceful poses, but she loved the splendid setting. When the Moors ruled Spain, they’d built the same extraordinary structures they had refined in North Africa. Each was a monument to their precise mathematics and geometry. The plain exteriors hid interiors of lavish intricacy that still marveled tourists.
She doubted many of today’s constructions would remain standing in seven hundred years. Unlike the glorious Moorish architecture, stark modern lines wouldn’t be missed.
“Ana!” Galen called. “Give us more of a smile. You’ve stepped out of a lavish party to catch your breath, and someone’s waiting for you.”
Ana licked her lips and tipped her head slightly. She thought of Alejandro and found a seductive smile.
“Perfect! Now let’s do the blue gowns,” Galen called.
Lourdes yawned. “All this fresh air makes me sleepy, and I don’t look good in blue.”
Ana caught Galen’s eye. “Do you want to put Lourdes in a brighter color and give Valeria and me the blue? The contrast might be more effective.”
Galen rested his hands on his hips. “Are you directing the shoot now?”
“It was merely a suggestion,” she replied sweetly. She was tired of keeping her ideas to herself. He designed the clothes but often didn’t understand how to show them to the best advantage.
“Brighter colors do look better on Lourdes,” Jaime added, without looking Ana’s way.
“All right, fine,” Galen agreed. “We haven’t much time. Let’s hurry through the next shots and then take a look at what we’ve got.”
“Thanks,” Lourdes whispered. “I look dreadful in pale blue.”
“You’re welcome,” Ana replied. When they finished work for the morning, the group scattered, while she stayed to tour the palace’s museum with its beautiful chapel of Santa Ana. Growing up, she’d missed a lot of school due to work, but wherever they’d gone, her mother had taken her to see the historic sights. She should have thanked her and used another of the postcards she’d bought to do so now.
She bought an ensaimada pastry, walked along the palm-tree-lined pathway to the Parc de la Mar and found a bench to rest. Naturally slim, she could have eaten a dozen of the delicious spirals, but she seldom ate sweets and one was enough. Once finished, she brushed the powdered sugar from her hands and pulled her book from her bag. She loved the water, and it was a beautiful place to read. As a child, she’d become adept at disappearing into herself. She could sparkle on cue and relax just as easily, but today she was sorry to be nearly invisible and alone.
She pulled out her phone and called Alejandro but her call went to his voice mail. “We’re finished for the day, and I’m reading by the water.” She’d ended the call before she realized she hadn’t given her name, but she didn’t call back. He’d know who she was, and if he didn’t, then he had too many girlfriends, and she didn’t care.
As she entered the Hotel Feliz, Galen waved to her from the bar. He was seated alone and drawing in his sketchbook. He closed it when she joined him. “This morning went well.”
“It did.” She ordered limeade, relaxed into a comfortable chair and crossed her legs.
“I still think we can do better tomorrow. I want to capture more of the romance of my designs.”
Ana nodded. She was well-acquainted with designers’ passionate love for their own work. “It should be another beautiful day for a shoot.”
“I hope so. Jaime and I talked about having you girls run along the arched arcades, breathless, laughing. It will put more excitement in my gowns.” He reached for her hand. “You inspire me, Ana. I want to work with you on my next collection.”
Growing uneasy, Ana slipped her hand from his and grabbed her limeade. “I enjoy working with you too.”
He lowered his voice. “I want you to be my muse, to be in my studio so I can design first for you, and you’ll be the star of the collection.”
Appalled by the idea, she struggled to find a sad smile. “That’s so flattering, Galen, and I’ll work with you when I can, but I don’t work exclusively for any designer.”
“Don’t reject the idea out of hand. I intend to make it very profitable for you. Stay with me when the others fly home tomorrow afternoon and give me a chance to convince you.”
The warm glow filling his glance made it clear he was suggesting something more personal than mere conversation. “Aren’t your wife and children expecting you to be home tomorrow?”
He sat back in his chair. “I can tell them I’ve decided to stay an extra day if you will.”
He didn’t appear to feel guilty for offering to lie, which disgusted her all the more. “I have someone waiting for me to come home, so I can’t stay. I don’t date married men anyway, Galen, so let’s concentrate on work rather than our personal lives.”
He picked up his sketchbook. “Forgive me if I’ve insulted you. You’ll still join us for dinner, won’t you?”
“Yes, the food here is very good.” She could have taken a flight home that afternoon, but she wouldn’t cancel a day of work. She carried her limeade out to the courtyard and took a chair facing the sea.
Some designers were over-friendly, and she was used to the way they fussed with the fit of their fashions in a blatant excuse to fondle her. This was the first time a designer had propositioned her, though. She’d pretend it hadn’t happened. She could do it convincingly too. Perhaps her acting skills really were good enough to play a small role in an Almodóvar film, although she couldn’t see herself as a movie star.
She tried Alejandro again, and he answered. “How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine, but it’s been a strange couple of days.”
“Are the models being temperamental?”
“No more than usual, but location shoots always pose challenges. How are you?”
“I’ve been better. Took the bike out this morning, and a truck cut me off at the corner.”
Her heart dropped. “Were you hurt?”
“I’ve a few scrapes, but no broken bones. I reacted quickly enough to save my bike.”
She imagined him a bloody mess. “Is that your idea of humor?”
“No, it’s titanium, and they aren’t cheap. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow night, but I won’t come to see you if you should be resting.”
His voice was low. “You could rest with me.”
“Enticing thought.” She needed to talk with him, and perhaps she could work up to it. “What if I bring dinner?”
“That would be good. I haven’t had time to take cooking lessons yet.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Friday morning went well, and, the shoot over, Ana joined the others in flying home. Fatima welcomed her with a hug, and Romeo and Juliet scooted by in a rush. “Could they have already grown?”
“I think so,” Fatima replied. “I have to feed them separately, or Romeo will eat Juliet’s food. You can’t have one enormous cat and one little tiny one.”
“They’re still little and cute, so this is the time to find them a home. It sounds as though you’ve become attached to them. Wouldn’t you and Bruno like to have them?”
The housekeeper’s gaze narrowed. “I told you I’m not fond of cats, and I haven’t changed my mind. Give me your laundry, and I’ll run a load before I go.”
Ana unpacked her bag and tossed her clothes in the hamper. “If you were taking dinner home to Bruno, what would you buy?”
“He’ll eat anything, so I’d buy whatever I felt like eating, and he’d eat it too. Why do you ask?”
She wouldn’t twist the truth with her longtime housekeeper. “I’ve met an architecture student I like, and he got scraped up in a bicycle accident.�
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Fatima had a sparkling laugh. “So you’re taking dinner to a sick friend?”
“You could say that, and I’ve never done it. I’m not certain where to begin.”
“Make it a picnic and take a big meaty sandwich for him, and a bag of vegetables for yourself. He’d probably rather have beer than wine.”
“I suppose.” She knew exactly where to buy a sandwich he’d like and would call ahead to have it ready when she stopped by. “Thank you for everything. Take Monday off if you’d like.”
Fatima closed the lid on the washer and turned the dial. “I just came back from vacation, Ana.”
“So what? I’ve been gone a couple of days, so the place is clean, and you’ve taken care of the cats.”
“May I save the day for a time I really need it?”
“Of course. Put ‘day off’ on a Post-it and stick it on the edge of my calendar so we don’t forget.”
“I’ll do it. Tell me one thing, Ana. I’m sure your student is a very nice young man, but is he sophisticated enough for you?”
Despite a slightly raised brow, Fatima was sneaking up on an obvious problem rather than asking if she’d lost her mind. “He has no idea who I am. I’m easing him into it. He’s a grown man, not a kid anyway.”
“I won’t say another word.” Fatima gathered up the laundry, and Ana didn’t follow.
As Ana soaked in the tub, she fought not to panic over the evening. She was a natural blonde, and waist-length hair suited her well as a model, but a photographer would tie her hair back or wear it in a single braid. Deciding on the latter, she asked Fatima to braid her hair before she left for home.
“Let’s leave a few loose strands around your face so you don’t look like a peeled grape,” Fatima suggested. She stood back to admire her work. “Looks good. You have a good time tonight.”
“Thank you. I’m sure we will.” At least she hoped so.
She liked wearing white shirts with slim blue jeans. She added only a couple of coats of mascara; her brows were dark enough on their own. A pale lip gloss made her look too sweet for her tastes, but she didn’t want to shock Alejandro too badly.
