The elevator opened at her floor, and they got off, Wendell rolling his suitcase behind him. They arrived at her door and she opened it, ushering her cousin inside.
Immediately he went to the sliding glass doors and took in the view. “Not bad,” he said. “What did you pay for this place?”
Typical Wendell. Before she could answer, the clatter of mini-pig hooves on the hardwood floors had him turning around. “Katy, what in the—” His jaw went slack at the sight of the porcine visitor.
“Wendell, this is Gracious. She’s staying with me for a few days, while her owner is out of town.”
“The hell she is! I’m staying with you for a few days.”
“So is she.”
Wendell squinted at the pig in disbelief. “I’m not living with a barnyard animal.”
Gracious grunted at him, backed up, sat down and squealed, laying her ears back. Then she looked up at Kate, clearly echoing Wendell’s sentiments. Kate translated the squeal to mean, “I’m not hanging out with that fat, preppy cretin.”
“You’re both going to have to deal with one another,” she said, her lips twitching.
Gracious heaved herself to her feet and waddled over to sniff out Wendell’s suitcase. She nudged it with her snout and knocked it over.
“Hey!”
She laid her ears back and cocked her head at him. Then she started snuffling around the zipper.
“Get away from there!” Wendell ran forward, waving his arms, but didn’t have the desired effect. Gracious snorted, squealed and redirected her energies: she charged him.
Wendell changed directions on a dime and fled in the other direction, but the pig was fast—who knew?—and pursued him into the kitchen, knocking against his calf with her snout. Wendell leaped for the counter and hauled himself up onto it belly first, his legs flailing. “Kate, do something!”
Gracious appeared very pleased by his response. Kate could have sworn she was grinning. She squealed and then snorted for punctuation.
“You threatened her, Wendell. For all intents and purposes, you charged her first. She was just standing up for herself.”
“Lock her up!” he yelled.
“Gracious, come here.” Kate tugged gently on the pig’s collar, and after a couple of tries got her to follow her into the bathroom. “Look, sweetie, there’s a nice fuzzy rug to lie on, okay? I’ll get you an apricot. Don’t let the mean man hurt your feelings.”
“Mean man?” Wendell hollered. “For God’s sake, Katy! Do you have a goat in the bedroom? Chickens in the pantry?”
Kate shut the door on Gracious and went back to the kitchen, hands on her hips. “Wendell, you can come down now. Let me show you to your room.”
He slid off the granite countertop and onto the floor with a grunt. Then he stalked to his suitcase, wiped imaginary specks of pig drool off the zipper, and towed it after him to the guestroom, where he eyed the air mattress with even more outrage. “You can’t expect me to sleep on that! I told you to get a bed.”
“That is a bed.”
“No, that’s a rectangular balloon.”
“Wendell, this room is going to be my office and I don’t want it filled with a huge guest bed that will hardly ever be used. It’s going to be occupied by a desk and a chair and a filing cabinet.”
“You said you would get a bed.” His tone was belligerent.
Kate looked heavenward. “Take it or leave it. If it bothers you so much, I can make you a reservation somewhere.”
Wendell grumbled a bit more and partially unpacked his suitcase into the room’s closet, pointing out that she had no chest of drawers, either. Then he requested a cappuccino.
She didn’t own an espresso machine. Totally demoralized, her cousin allowed her to take him to the News Café on South Beach, a spot even Kate knew about. It was a gorgeous morning, with few clouds in the sky. They parked on Collins Avenue and walked the few blocks to Ocean Drive. Wendell had plenty to occupy him in making fun of the tourists.
“Check out that hideous Hawaiian shirt, Katy,” he said with a smirk. She ignored him, because sitting right there at one of the little café tables was none other than Alejandro Torres, with not one but two beautiful women. So that’s what good-looking Latin men did on the weekends in Miami.
“Kate?” he called. “Kate, is that you?”
Wendell nudged her. “Hey, Romeo over there with the gold chain around his neck is trying to get your attention.”
Kate’s gaze honed in on Alejandro’s neck and repressed a shudder, as usual. There were just certain unwritten laws. Men in her social circles didn’t wear gold chains, and they didn’t wear bracelets or diamond pinky rings. A discreet gold watch on a leather band and perhaps a very plain wedding ring—that was all the jewelry a gentleman wore, besides elegant cuff links when the occasion demanded it.
“Who is that guy?” Wendell asked her. “How do you know him?” His lip curled. “He looks like Eric Estrada.”
“He does not! And he’s in my business school class,” Kate told him, liking her cousin’s attitude even less than the gold chain. “He’s very nice.” And he’s a fantastic kisser. “Actually, he’s coming to dinner on Saturday, because we’re working on a project for marketing together. You get to try Peruvian food.”
Wendell clutched his stomach and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be an ass,” Kate told him. “Broaden your cultural horizons. Now make nice.”
6
ALEJANDRO WATCHED KATE approach with a man who looked remarkably like Gracious, but with a less pleasant expression. Smugness poured out of his pockets and he seemed very impressed with himself.
“Is that the Kate?” Peggy elbowed him. Marly looked just as curious as she did.
“That is the Kate,” Alejandro said, his eyes riveted to her pale, chiseled lips. Lips that he wanted to kiss again. She walked easily, loose-limbed and unselfconscious and sexy because of it. Most of the south Florida women were very aware of their looks and the power they had over men. Not Kate. She didn’t wear a smudge of makeup, her hair was an unruly mess, and she looked rumpled, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. It turned him on unbelievably.
He shot Peg and Marly a sidelong glance. “I will skin both of you alive if you give away my secret, do you understand? The Spinney Industries heiress isn’t going to date a manicurist.”
“She’s pretty,” Peg said.
“But not at all what I expected,” Marly finished for her. They fell silent as the Kate approached.
“Hi, Alejandro,” Kate said as they got to his table. “Nice to see you. May I introduce my cousin, Wendell Spinney?”
“The fourth,” Wendell added.
“Right,” Kate said, deadpan. “The fourth.”
Alejandro raised an eyebrow. “Must be very confusing, all those Wendell Spinneys walking around and bumping into one another.” He smiled. “I’m Alejandro Torres—the first.”
Kate fought with a smile.
“And these are my friends and clients, Peggy Underwood and Marly Fine. Peggy, Marly, meet Kate Spinney and Wendell…the fourth.”
Kate’s eyes went to Peg and Marly. She seemed a little intimidated by Marly’s looks, but then, a lot of women were. Marly, with her long dark hair and spectacular blue-green eyes, was gorgeous. But she smiled and stuck out her foot. “Look, Kate, we have the same flip-flops.”
Kate grinned. “Big bucks at the Winn-Dixie, right?”
“You got it.”
Wendell eyed their rubber thong sandals as if they were cockroaches, and changed the subject. “What sort of business are you in, Al?” He inquired.
“It’s Alejandro, or Alejo if you prefer. And I’m an accountant. Peggy and Marly are my clients—they own a salon and spa in Coral Gables.”
The two girls looked delighted. “You gonna put that in wri—” Peg began, before Alejo kicked her hard under the table.
“Is that so? Well, speaking of salons, Kate and I have interests in shampoo, don’t we, Kate? Among ot
her things.” Wendell’s lips stretched into a proprietary smile.
She edged away from him, obviously uncomfortable with the subject of the Spinney holdings, and said nothing.
“Why don’t you join us for some coffee?” Peggy suggested. “We can pull up a couple of chairs.”
“Sure,” Kate said.
At the same time Wendell said, “Oh, thank you but we’re running late.” He looked at his watch, a Tiffany that Alejo estimated was white gold and had cost more than the down payment on a large house.
Pompous ass. “Oh? Where are you rushing off to?”
“Nowhere,” Kate replied.
“We have an appointment,” Wendell said in stuffy tones. “Remember, Kate?”
“Wendell does have an appointment, now that I think about it,” she exclaimed, green eyes sparkling with malice. “I’d forgotten—you promised to take Gracious to the groomer’s for me today, didn’t you?”
“Wha—? Bu—”
“Wendell noticed that she had a faint eau de piggy.”
“How is Gracious?” Marly asked. “We haven’t seen her for a while, Alejo. It was hilarious when he brought her to the spa,” she explained to Kate, “because she unerringly went straight to the treatment room where we give the mud baths and all. If the door had been unlocked, I think she would have climbed right in with the customer.”
Kate laughed.
“You let a pig into your spa?” Wendell appeared scandalized. “That’s highly unsanitary!”
“Why? She’s cleaner than the average dog, and customers bring their small dogs in occasionally.” Peggy stuck up for Gracious.
“That’s abominable, too.” Wendell sat down reluctantly in one of the chairs that Alejandro finally brought over, since The Fourth made no move to do so. Kate sat in the other one.
A waitress appeared and asked for their orders.
“Black coffee,” Kate requested.
“Skinny half-caf, no-whip, white-chocolate mocha cappuccino with a two shakes of cinnamon and one shake of nutmeg,” Wendell told her.
The waitress snapped her gum. “Whad’ya think this is, Starbuckets? Try again, from the menu, pal. There’s Mexican coffee, Italian, French, Jamaican, Spanish—”
Wendell’s nostrils flared. “Are you aware that you work in a service industry, mademoiselle?”
She rolled her eyes. “Naw, I woke up thinking I was the Queen of England. Now what’ll it be?”
“What is your name? And I’d like to speak to the manager.”
“Wendell, please. Can we just have a cup of joe and relax?” Kate begged him. “Does everything have to be a production?”
“What kind of establishment is this?” he fumed.
“It’s the News Café,” Marly said. “Famous.”
“I don’t see why. We’re leaving.” And he stood up.
“Wendell, I need to discuss the marketing project with Alejandro,” Kate told him. “Why don’t you walk over to Collins Avenue and do some shopping? It’s a little like Newberry Street. Or you could take my keys and run Gracious over to the groomer’s.”
He cast her a look of dislike. “Fine, I’ll go to Collins. The barnyard animal can wait.”
Just then, the manager on duty approached. “Something wrong, sir?”
“Your staff is rude, your menu lacking and your chairs uncomfortable. Your mugs are thick and ugly, this humidity is wretched—”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“Uh…we’ve served the same coffee in the same cups from the same menu for years, now. And our customers have sat in the same chairs. The weather I can’t change for you, and my staff is incapable of bringing you something that is not on the menu.”
“Do you know who I am?” asked Wendell, puffing up with hot air like a bagpipe.
“No, sir. I do wish we could make you happier. But considering your long list of complaints, I doubt that’s possible, so let me show you out….”
Alejandro gave Kate a lot of credit for not laughing until Cousin Wendell was out of earshot. Then they all broke down.
“I didn’t know they even made relatives that bad,” Alejo said in wondering tones. “Kate, tell me the rest of your family isn’t like that.”
She eyed him gloomily. “They’re all either workaholic, comatose, psychopathic or just generally unbearable. Actually my brother’s great—but he’s gay, so the rest of them don’t speak to him. Unbelievable. They treat him as though he’s brought more shame on the family than another cousin of mine who’d be a convicted rapist if he hadn’t gotten off on a technicality.”
“Is he cute?” asked Peggy.
“The rapist?”
“No! Your brother. Because maybe we should set him up with Nicky. He’s one of our hairstylists, and he’s always going on these disastrous Internet dates.”
Alejo kicked her again.
“Ow!” she said, glaring at him.
Kate’s nose was in her coffee cup, so she didn’t notice. “Yes, my brother is good-looking. Is Nicky?”
Peg looked at Alejandro and Marly. “Yes. But he does have somewhat astonishing taste in clothes.”
“Enough about Nicky,” Alejandro said. “Let’s talk about the marketing project. Do you have any ideas?”
“What’s your project?” Marly asked before Kate could answer.
“We have to do an analysis, come up with a new direction and write a marketing plan for a business in the Miami area,” she explained.
“Oh, how interesting!” His two partners exchanged a glance. A mischievous glance.
He narrowed his eyes at them.
They looked back, all innocence.
“I think it will be,” Kate nodded. “We just have to come up with a business.”
Alejandro closed his eyes and initiated a violent coughing fit as Peg and Marly said together, “What about After Hours? Our salon and spa? We could use some marketing analysis and help.”
Noooooo! “I’m sure Kate is looking for something with a much bigger scope,” Alejo broke in. “Something that will really challenge us.”
“Actually, I love the idea!” said Kate. “It fits right in with my background of Spinney products.”
“Uh. But aren’t you bored with that?” Alejandro asked, a bit desperately. “Surely you want to broaden your horizons a little.” No way could he have Kate sniffing around the salon! She’d figure out what he was really doing for a living. She’d laugh. She wouldn’t respect him. She’d think he was a rosquete. He cringed.
Kate frowned at him. “No. I think this is perfect. And you already do the accounting for After Hours, right? So you’re familiar with the numbers, which is always a good thing. Let’s do it!”
Peg and Marly grinned like two Cheshire cats upon discovering a cream factory.
He sent them a murderous look.
They high-fived each other, completely unconcerned.
Beauty Boy! Beauty Boy! The old taunt echoed through his head.
The waitress stopped back by now that Wendell was blessedly gone and offered more coffee. Yes, please. And can you lace mine with cyanide?
HE WAS GOING to boil Peggy in her own massage oil, Alejandro thought as he turned his Porsche into Tia Carlotta’s driveway. And he would cut off Marly’s head with her texturing shears. How could they have done that to him? The last thing he wanted was Kate anywhere near After Hours. She couldn’t find out his secret. A woman like her would never date a manicurist.
He shut off the engine and gave the little three-bedroom house a critical once-over. He needed to oil Tia’s storm shutters and make sure the drainpipes were clear before hurricane season started up.
Tia Carlotta opened the door before he was even on the porch. “Alejo! Como estas? Bien?”
“Sí, bien, gracias. Y tu?” He kissed her on the cheek. Tia wore a sky-blue tunic over a black stretchy skirt, her hair pulled straight back from her face. She looked younger than her sixty-two years
and credited this in equal parts to piety and Youth Dew.
“Something smells wonderful, Tia,” Alejandro told her as he followed her into the house.
“I made you choritos, escabeche de pescado and the cau-cau,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, not for my poor Manuela’s boy, God rest her soul.” Whenever Tia spoke his mother’s name, which was often, she asked God to rest her soul. Alejo figured Mama’s soul had to be in a coma by now, but of course he was never so disrespectful as to say so.
“So, you take all of this to a dinner party?” she inquired. “Who comes?”
Alejandro shrugged. “Just a couple of friends.”
“One of these friends is a girl?”
He nodded, trying his best to look ultra-casual.
“This girl, will I meet her one day?”
He thought about Kate’s gringa, Yankee manners, and Tia’s extreme suspicion when it came to any girlfriend of his. “Maybe,” he said cautiously.
Tia Carlotta was perfectly capable of mashing Kate’s left breast in a garlic press if she took a dislike to her and got her alone. Then again, Kate was almost certainly capable of fighting back with a meat cleaver.
Alejo shuddered. He wasn’t eager for them to get acquainted anytime soon.
“Maybe, he says. Maybe I take you by the ear and put you out, eh?”
“Now, Tia,” he said soothingly. “Don’t take it that way. I only meant that I might not think she’s worthy of meeting you.”
“I no meet a girlfriend of yours since sixteen years, your prom!”
Alejo shrugged. “When I’m ready to get married, you’ll meet her. Until then, why would you want to? I’m not serious about her if I don’t bring her to see you.”
She sighed in exasperation and handed him a spoon. “You taste,” she said, pushing him towards the stove.
The cau-cau simmered away on a front burner, happily getting slimier and more rubbery in its rich yellow sauce.
It was the consistency of tripe, the texture that most gringos couldn’t stomach. Alejo liked it, since he’d grown up on it. He took a big spoonful and blew gently on it, waiting for it to cool.
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