The pain would be too fresh and raw there. Up here it was easier to forget. Easier to just lock herself in the apartment she was renting from her cousins and lick her wounds. Come the New Year she would be home again in Miami. Ready to start a new year and a new life, she hoped.
The decision made, Carmen crossed the street to her building intent on calling her family and telling them of her plans.
#
Connie walked toward his desk, smiling. “Hey, Paul. How are you?”
Paul smiled and was thankful they had been able to maintain a civil relationship. He valued both her friendship and her acumen as an agent. “Okay and you?”
“Good. Getting ready for the holidays. And you? Have any big plans for Thanksgiving?”
As a matter of fact, he did and smiled. “You better sit down for this one, Connie. I’m making Thanksgiving dinner for my brother and parents. Does that beat all or what?”
She did plop down on the edge of his desk then, surprise and concern evident in every line of her body. “Are you sure … I mean, I’m sorry, but … they always seem so busy.”
“You doubt that they’ll show?” Paul glanced down at his desktop at the envelope from the Greek islands and passed it to her, the action painfully familiar. “They promised they would try to make it.” He looked at her and the compassion on her face was almost too much to bear. “You told me to start believing, Connie. I figured this was a good start, although I might be wrong.”
Connie thought that a good start might have been going to see Carmen in New York. Her love was a sure thing, even with the passage of time. His brother and parents however were another story. “Maybe you should cancel and come to our house.”
“And see Carmen? Before I’m ready to?”
“She won’t be there,” Connie jumped in and registered the surprise on his face.
“But … you guys … I thought you always were together for the holidays.”
Connie breathed a deep sigh and shrugged. “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”
“Yes, but --”
“Carmen decided there was a lot to see in New York. The flight was expensive and she had a lot of class work as well,” Connie advised, unwilling to let him know that Paul had also been a large part of the reason for Carmen’s decision.
Paul nodded, trying to seem as if he understood, but unable to. “Well, I’m sure her holidays and yours will be nice.”
“And yours, Paul. If things don’t work out, come over. Have some Cuban-style turkey and stuffing,” Connie offered.
Paul shook his head. “They’ll come,” he said with conviction, although he knew he was not only trying to convince her, but himself as well. The reception to his proposal had been lukewarm at best, but as he had told Connie earlier, he was trying to have faith. If his parents and brother could find it in their hearts to join him for this holiday, one that should have found him rejoicing in his newfound happiness but instead found him alone, then there was hope, wasn’t there? Then he could possibly start believing in himself and by doing so, in the love Carmen and he had shared.
He looked at Connie again, smiling tightly. “They’ll come,” he repeated again and when she reached over, hugged him, and he held on tight and hoped.
#
The table was elegantly laid with the fine china and silver. A turkey and remaining dishes waited in the kitchen, just about done.
Paul sat alone at the dining room table in his suit, waiting. No calls had come to explain their absence.
Nothing.
He sipped his glass of wine and glanced around at the fine appointments of his house. They should have brought him joy, but left him unmoved. All this around him, all the money that had helped him have this, could do nothing to ease the pain in his heart. To ease the emptiness of another holiday alone.
The one thing that could have kept him from his loneliness, that could have turned his house into a home, was gone. Sacrificed for all the material things around him.
He cursed and drained the glass of wine, poured himself another, intent on getting rip roaring drunk to ease his disappointment. For a moment, he had found that spark of belief deep in his heart and had planned this holiday gathering in anticipation of letting that spark grow within him and warm his heart.
As the minutes ticked by, the spark faltered and burned down to a cold, lifeless ash. He drained his second glass, stood, and walked into the kitchen, shut off the oven where the bulk of the meal waited. Loosening his tie, he turned, and started walking toward his bedroom, but the front doorbell rang.
He stopped short, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. He raced to the door, threw it open, and stopped in surprise. On his doorstep stood Connie, Victor, and her parents, arms laden with trays and bags. “They say if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain ….” Connie started and walked past him as she finished, “Bring the mountain to Mohammed.”
Victor rolled his eyes and trailed behind his wife while Paul remained at the door open-mouthed. “Rosa. Roberto. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say welcome and help me with this,” Roberto replied and handed Paul the roasting pan with the turkey.
Paul grabbed the bird and followed the entourage into the kitchen where they were busy spreading the plates across his kitchen counter. “How did you do all this? How did you know?” he asked and when Connie glanced at him guiltily, he knew in an instant. “You staked out my house?”
“Well, I did,” Victor admitted, placing a pan on the stove. “The rest were busy cooking.”
Paul looked at all of them, guilty faces staring at him, and the ash in his heart brightened, began to glow again. He smiled, walked over to Rosa and Roberto, and hugged them both.
Victor came over, shook his hand, and then finally, he walked over to Connie, gave her a tight hug and she held him tight, whispered in his ear, “Do you believe, now?”
The peal of the doorbell at that instant stopped him from answering, and he turned, surprised and expectant.
“It’s not Carmen,” Connie said immediately, clearly wanting to spare him any heartache.
Paul trusted her, but couldn’t imagine who it could be. He walked to the door, Connie and her family in tow behind him, like a mother duck and her ducklings. For the second time that night, Paul opened the door and experienced surprise.
His brother, ex-wife, and children stood on his doorstep and behind him were his parents. “We’re sorry we’re late, but when Cindy heard that you were hosting Thanksgiving dinner, she decided to come as well and it took some time to get the kids ready,” his brother apologized.
Paul motioned them in and as his family entered, encountered the Gonzalez family, there was a lot of handshaking and introductions. In a blaze of activity, the food was spread, and they were all quickly seated around the table.
As if planned, they quieted and looked to him. He nodded, reached out, and joined hands with Connie on the left and his mother on the right. Everyone copied him and he closed his eyes against the threat of tears, bowed his head. “Lord, I want to thank you for bringing our families together to share this very special meal. Gracias.”
When he raised his head, the empty seat at the other end of the table reminded him there was one more thing he had to do to make it all complete.
#
Step, two, three to the right and a shake of hips draped with a bright green plastic grass skirt. Then a step, two, three to the left and another shake.
Carmen shook her head at the outrageous skater on the ice, laughed, and glanced across the table at her cousin Alicia. “Is this lady for real?”
Alicia chuckled and shrugged. “Would you believe that she’s been here for as long as I can remember?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Carmen asked and took a last bite of her roast turkey.
Alicia Gonzalez nodded, looked out the bank of windows of the restaurant, and took a sip of her wine. “Mami brought us here all the time when we were kids. It was a tradition
almost. A walk from Penn Station to see all the store windows with their Christmas displays. Then lunch here at Rockefeller Center and finally, over to Lincoln Center for The Nutcracker.”
Her voice grew husky as she finished, and Carmen knew that although the memories were good, they were still painful for her cousin. “You miss her,” she said softly, familiar with pain of a different kind.
Alicia’s eyes grew brilliant with unshed tears. “It’s harder at certain times of the year. I haven’t been here since Mami died and it’s been what? Nearly eleven years now?”
Carmen nodded and reached out to gently grasp Alicia’s hand. “Thank you for sharing this memory with me.”
Alicia smiled, a weak, watery smile, and brushed away a tear. “Mami would have wanted me to after all that your family did to make it easier. My summers in Miami are ones I will always treasure.”
“I’m glad,” Carmen responded and signaled to the waiter. “Now I don’t know about you, but something chocolate always helps at times like this.”
The waiter handed Alicia a menu first and then Carmen. She hesitated for only a second and said “The chocolate mousse” at the same time as her cousin.
Alicia laughed heartily and Carmen joined in, thankful for her cousin’s presence and for this wonderful time in New York.
#
Carmen sat at the kitchen table, staring at the plate of pasta she had purchased at the corner Italian restaurant. The food smelled wonderful and she was sure it tasted just as good, but she had little appetite.
It was Noche Buena and she should have been home in Miami, eating roast pork, beans, and plantains with her family. But she had refused to go home, insisting that a Christmas in New York would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her. She should have accepted Alicia’s invitation to spend the holiday with her and her brother Rafael at their Midtown brownstone. But she wanted to be alone and envisioned Paul alone at home as well.
Would he likewise be sitting in the kitchen, eating a take-out meal and watching the news on television? Had this been how he had spent all his holidays? If he had, didn’t he have good reason for being uncertain of how families worked? Of how people loved one another?
Maybe she had been too harsh in judging him and maybe that little piece of paper shouldn’t have mattered as much. After all, wasn’t the important thing that they be together?
Her reverie was broken by the buzz of the apartment intercom. She rose and walked out of the kitchen to the speaker by the front door. Pressing the button, the static jumped to life along with an unfamiliar voice.
“Ms. Gonzalez?” a tinny voice asked.
“Yes. How can I help you?” she shouted back into the microphone in order to be heard.
“Delivery. I need you to sign,” came the reply.
Carmen groaned, not wanting to make the three flight trot down the stairs. “Can’t you just leave it?”
“I have explicit instructions, ma’am. I’d like to get home for the holidays,” the voice urged and she took pity on the man. It was Christmas Eve after all and he probably wanted to be home with his family.
“I’ll be right down,” she replied, grabbed her key and jogged down the three stairs. At the front door, she looked out through the glass to make sure. A tall man stood on the step, cap pulled down low on his forehead. He sported a dark goatee and the uniform of a well-known delivery service.
She opened the door, but remained in the doorway. The man handed her a clipboard, only took a very quick look at her as she signed and then reached for the package.
The courier handed her a medium-sized square box, only a few inches high. It was wrapped in bright red foil paper and lacked any outer wrapping or address labels. She shook it, heard something bump inside, and shrugged. She was about to walk in when the courier said, “I was instructed to have you open it here, ma’am.” His voice was gruff, low, and yet slightly familiar.
Carmen stopped and looked at him again intently, but he kept his face averted, the cap obscuring everything except his lips and dark brown goatee. His hair was brown as well and long. Not blonde, she heard in her mind, realizing his frame was similar to Paul’s, as were his lips.
“Ma’am,” he said again. “I would like to get home tonight,” he pressed, his voice insistent.
Carmen glanced down at the gift again, shrugged, and ripped off the paper, holding on to it with one hand, while with the other, she lifted the top off the box to reveal another smaller square box wrapped in similar red foil paper. Bits of paper were used as filler. She lifted out the smaller box, realized that the filler paper had printing on it and a familiar name caught her eye on one small scrap.
Her heart started to race as she pulled out the piece of paper that was no more than an inch by an inch and saw Paul’s name and the beginning of hers. She glanced back into the box, saw another scrap that read “Agree” with a portion of the “e” torn in half. Her hands shook as she placed the scraps back in the bigger box. Feeling her knees going weak, she leaned against the door frame to open the smaller box. Beneath the foil was the familiar velvet of the jeweler’s box. She didn’t need to open it to know what was inside.
“Who gave this to you?” she asked the courier.
“Ma’am?” he asked and she looked up then, realized he was standing before her, hands held tightly before him. His body tense as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
Hesitantly, her limbs shaking as she did so, she reached up, pulled the cap off his head and found herself holding not just the cap, but a mound of brown hair.
She sucked in a quick breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she glanced at him, at his all too familiar face, marred only by the dark brown goatee, which he peeled off and tossed into the cap she held.
Carmen threw herself into this arms and he embraced her, lifted her high and twirled her around.
“Can I come home now?” he asked with a smile.
“Dios, Sí,” she answered, laughed, and held him tight.
She had told him that you had to have faith and now here he was, giving her his heart and the promise of a life together.
As he slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her, she had no hesitation that this time, he would be there forever.
It was all just a matter of faith.
Available in August 2013
from Entangled Publishing
TO CATCH A PRINCESS
by Caridad Pineiro
Detective Peter Roman chose a life out of the public view to
safeguard his family’s painful secrets. When Peter is faced with
revealing his real identity to keep a family friend safe, Peter
doesn’t hesitate. That revelation will threaten the world he
has built, expose his secrets and challenge him to open his heart.
Princess Tatiana doesn’t want to believe there is any threat to
her upcoming charity event and the priceless jewels that will be
on display at the Ivanov casino in Monaco. Because of that,
she is reluctant to have sexy detective Peter Roman accompany her
for protection, especially since her attraction to Peter is difficult to handle.
Danger and a wanted jewel thief will draw Peter and Tatiana
together, but can their newfound love survive exposure in
the tabloids and a deadly attack from an old foe?
Chapter 1
The heist had been so easy, it was almost insulting, Shea Brady thought as he handed over the padded envelope to his contact. He and his client were tucked into a leather booth at the back of a dimly lit pub in London’s Kensington section.
The older man opened the envelope and shot a cursory glance at the contents. With a satisfied smile, he said, “Well done, Mr. …”
“Smith,” Shea answered although they were both well aware that wasn’t his real name. All that his contact had to know was the number for the Swiss bank account where he would deposit the monies for the work he had done and the e
-mail where he could be reached.
“Mr. Smith. My client was quite impressed with how quickly and quietly you completed your task,” the other man said in tones that bespoke of upper class British schooling, but there was another accent, more foreign, beneath those tones. His clothing screamed elegance and money, although it was staid. Better suited to a banker than someone dealing with a man like him.
Although some might consider bankers not all that much different than a thief.
“I’m glad that he’s pleased,” Shea said and signaled the waitress for the check. Considering how much he was being paid for the rather simple job, the least he could do was to pick up the tab for the pints they’d had. He could well afford it after his many years of high-end heists of some of the world’s most expensive and sought after jewels.
“Not so fast, Mr. Smith,” the banker type said and waved off the waitress as she approached.
He arched a brow and examined the other man, wondering what it was that he wanted. Growing uncomfortable, he considered that he might have somehow fallen for an Interpol sting. After all, he had been on their list of Most Wanted for nearly three years now, not that anyone had ever gotten close enough to even snap a photo of his real face for their mug shots. Even today he was well-disguised by the latex prosthetics that hid his features.
“Is something wrong, Mr. …”
“Jones,” the banker said with a wry smile before continuing. “My client is interested in building his collection and believes you can assist him. If you’re interested, of course.”
Shea considered how much he had been paid and how easy it had been. Actually too easy. The Hollywood couple who had been in possession of the multi-million dollar necklace hadn’t been particularly careful about safeguarding it. Maybe because the money to purchase the jewelry had come too easily to them.
Unlike how hard he’d had to work just to survive in his lean childhood years. One too many a night spent hungry despite hours of back-breaking labor had made him find a much more profitable way of earning his keep. If the rest of the jobs Mr. Jones’s client proposed were as easy as this one, it would literally be like stealing candy from a baby. While he wouldn’t mind such an easy gig, it was almost too easy. Almost as if someone was setting him up to fail.
Faith in You Page 14
