by Price, Sarah
The driver pulled over, and without missing a beat, Charlotte exited the car, holding the door open for Amanda. She could barely force herself out of the car; her mind was still reeling with the information that Charlotte had just shared with her. She had overheard enough conversations between Alejandro and Geoffrey discussing revenue to understand what eight figures meant. What she couldn’t understand was why. Why would anyone want to pay her that much money to talk about a product?
As she followed Charlotte into the restaurant, several people recognized her and quickly withdrew their phones to snap her picture. One young woman ran up to her and, in a nervous voice, asked if Amanda might take a photo with her. Forcing a smile, Amanda nodded her head and stood next to her while she held out her cell phone to take the picture.
Charlotte stood at the door, impatiently waiting. She tapped her foot and glanced at her phone to check the time. “Come now, Amanda,” she said. “We have a tight schedule.”
The other young women surrounding her requested the same photo, and Amanda ignored Charlotte and stood beside the women, smiling for their pictures. When the group was satisfied, Amanda hurried to join Charlotte.
“Dali warned me about that,” Charlotte said in a terse tone. “We’ll let it slide this time, but let’s not make a habit of that.”
“I don’t understand something,” Amanda said as Charlotte led her to the front of the restaurant, where a man in a black suit immediately escorted them toward a table of three women already seated. “If my brand is worth so much, doesn’t that mean it’s because of the fans?”
“What’s your point, Amanda?”
“Ja, vell, if this brand that you keep talking about is because of the fans, mayhaps I should not stop interacting with them? Maybe that’s what makes the fans like the brand.”
Charlotte stopped walking and turned to look at her. Behind Charlotte’s shoulder, Amanda could see the three women at the table standing, waiting expectantly and most likely wondering why their guests had stopped.
“I’m your publicist, Amanda, and I will help build this brand, linking you to the best of the best. But I can’t have you questioning me. Is that clear?”
Amanda thought for a moment and, just as Charlotte started to turn, apparently considering the conversation over, said, “Nee, I won’t agree to that. If someone wants to take a photo with me, if that makes them happy and I can do it, I will do it.”
Charlotte’s mouth opened, clearly surprised at Amanda’s refusal to comply with her request.
Amanda managed to smile in the direction of the women waiting for them at the table, even as she lowered her voice and said, “That is, I reckon, my brand. Wouldn’t you agree? Accessibility to the public.”
Then, without another word to Charlotte, Amanda walked around her publicist and headed to the table where the oldest of the three women greeted her, introducing her to the other two ladies and then inviting her to sit down. As Amanda did, her hands folded in her lap, Charlotte joined them, a warm smile on her face and her professional demeanor restored. Amanda let Charlotte run the rest of the meeting, listening to their discussion and nodding her head when needed, absorbing everything so that she could ask Alejandro to explain it to her later. But in the back of her mind she realized she had learned an important lesson over the past twenty-four hours: with power came options.
Like Alejandro had told her many times, advice would come to her from many directions. Clearly, this Charlotte woman had her own interests in mind, and not necessarily Amanda’s. While Amanda didn’t quite understand who Charlotte—or Dali, for that matter—was working for, she did understand she needed to adopt a critical eye in evaluating what she was being told and what she accepted as truth.
Alejandro sat in the back of the hotel restaurant, his team assembled and occupying three tables. Geoffrey sat across from Alejandro with several manila folders in front of him. As Geoffrey shuffled through the papers, Alejandro drummed his fingers against the side of the table.
“Why is it that Europeans don’t drink water?” he asked, looking around the room for the waitress.
Geoffrey glanced over at the next table and motioned to one of the men, who immediately stood up to get Alejandro more water.
“I want you to look at these companies,” Geoffrey said. “This one is from Japan.”
Alejandro took the papers that Geoffrey handed to him and glanced through them. He studied a diagram and frowned, clearly unimpressed. “These numbers are going in the wrong direction,” he said. “I don’t want to endorse a company that is foundering. I’m not here to save companies, but to make money. That means we align with winners, not losers.” He tossed the papers back at Geoffrey. “Next?”
“You might want to reconsider,” Geoffrey said. “There are whispers of a merger.”
Bored, Alejandro shook his head. “Next?”
Geoffrey sighed and retrieved the next file. “Energy drink company. They want to meet up with you in Las Vegas. I can schedule that meeting to coincide with your weeklong stint in September, but they’d like to move ahead sooner.”
Alejandro rolled his eyes. “Energy drinks are cliché.”
“Hey, they’ve doubled in revenue in just four years. An alliance would help them break into the Latino market and help you cross over into mainstream.”
“I’m already in the mainstream. What about that technology company?” Alejandro said, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember its name. “Unidad Tech?” The waitress came over and placed a pitcher of ice water on the table. Without saying anything, he reached for it and refilled his glass. “That’s got potential to hit the Latino market. It’s a no-brainer, sí? The name alone signifies unity among Latinos.”
Geoffrey made some notes on a document and set it aside. “I’ll look into it.”
“What’s next?”
“Paperwork,” Geoffrey said. “The lawyers sent me the contracts for the award ceremony, as well as the Christmas concert tour. Everything is finalized. Just sign where they have Post-it notes.” He handed the file to Alejandro and slid a pen across the table, watching patiently as Alejandro glanced through the documents and, satisfied, scribbled his name where indicated.
When he was finished, Alejandro looked at one of the men seated at the other table and motioned for him. Immediately, the man joined them, taking the chair next to Geoffrey.
“What did you arrange with Celinda?”
The man sat up straighter in the chair and cleared his throat. “Willing to fly into Paris, Stockholm, and Zürich. The other dates present a conflict.”
Alejandro looked over at Geoffrey. “What do you think? Will that work?”
“We can make it work.”
For the first time during their meeting, Alejandro smiled. “That’s the attitude! Make it work.” He leaned back and eyeballed his tour manager, who sat at another table. “You hear that, papo?”
“Sí, sí,” Eddie said casually, not intimidated by Alejandro’s mocking reprimand.
Returning his attention to Geoffrey, Alejandro nodded his head. “That’s short notice for Celinda to get to Paris,” he said. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks.”
“¡Ay!” He drank from his glass. “Arrange some free time with her and Amanda, sí?”
Geoffrey gave him an askew glance. “Does that mean that she’ll be traveling for the rest of the tour?”
Alejandro looked at his phone, ignoring Geoffrey’s question. “It’s almost three. I have things to do. The car is coming at four thirty, sí?” He stood up and glanced around the quiet restaurant. Other than his entourage of staff and security, there were only two tables occupied. “And arrange something for tomorrow, some tour or something that I can take Amanda to see. Just the two of us,” he said as he started to walk away. He nodded at the waitress and exited the restaurant. He needed some time alone, time to plan his late-night dinner with Amanda and time to think about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Wh
at a difference a day made.
Chapter Eight
He held her elbow and guided her down the sidewalk to the door of the tall building. A doorman dressed in a gray overcoat and wearing a black cap welcomed them. He pulled open the door and gestured for them to step into the lobby. Amanda walked ahead of Alejandro through the doorway and then paused, taking a moment to look around until he caught up to her.
A large aquarium with colorful tropical fish caught her attention. She wandered over to it, gazing at the fish that swam back and forth, some larger than others but each individually magnificent. It was almost three stories high and made of glass so that the outdoor lighting helped illuminate it.
“Beautiful, sí?” Alejandro stood next to her for a minute, his hand around her waist.
“I’ve never seen such a thing!” she gasped. “It’s breathtaking.”
His grip tightened, and as he started to move, she accompanied him. “The night is young, Princesa. There are many breathtaking things to see.”
They walked across the brown marble floor to the escalators, which took them to the mezzanine.
“This is a fairly new building,” Alejandro explained. “I believe just four or five years old.”
“It reminds me of New York.”
He smiled. “Sí, that it does.”
The elevators were at the top of the escalator.
“Have you been here before?” she asked as they waited for the elevator doors to open.
He shook his head. “I wanted to experience something new with you.”
And new it was.
The elevator rose quickly up the forty floors to reach the top of the building. Amanda gasped when she realized that they were riding on the outside of the building in an elevator made of glass. She stepped backward into Alejandro, steadying herself by grabbing his arm.
She felt queasy as it rose and hid her face against his shoulder, a gesture that made him laugh.
“You are afraid of heights?”
“Oh! I can’t even look!”
He teased her by putting his arms on her shoulders and turning her around so that she had no choice but to look outside. Still, he held her with her back against his chest and his arms protectively wrapped around her. “It’s beautiful, sí? The lights of London. Even at this hour, the city breathes life.”
She tried to shut her eyes, but found that she couldn’t. Her curiosity was too great to miss such an amazing, if terrifying, experience.
When the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, she almost didn’t want to step into the restaurant. He waited patiently for her, his hand holding the door so that it didn’t shut prematurely.
If she had been impressed by the aquarium in the lobby and the glass-walled elevator, the restaurant outshone both of them.
Located at the top of the Heron Tower, the entire floor was made of windows, allowing an almost undisturbed 360-degree view of the city. With the lights of the city beneath them, the view was as magnificent as any other that she had seen.
“Good evening, Mr. Diaz,” a man greeted him. “Mrs. Diaz. We have your table waiting for you. The best view of the city for a very special couple. Follow me, please.”
Amanda glanced at Alejandro as he winked at her, motioning with his head that she should follow the man.
Their table faced the windows, the semicircular booth permitting both of them to enjoy the view. Amanda slid in first and made room for Alejandro. When he sat next to her, he rested his one hand on the table and the other on her knee. Several of the patrons at the other tables glanced in their direction, and Amanda saw the distinct and now so familiar motion of someone trying to capture their photo.
“I’ve already selected our menu,” Alejandro said, either oblivious to or ignoring the stir that their appearance caused in the restaurant. “You do not mind?”
She shook her head, letting her gaze wander to the window.
“You had a busy day?”
She nodded and returned her gaze to the even more breathtaking view: her husband. “I did, ja. I did not realize that Charlotte is an employee. A publicist.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “And I was under the impression Dali no longer worked for you. I don’t quite understand.”
Alejandro lifted an eyebrow when he looked at her. “Dali might no longer be your personal assistant, Amanda, a situation we can discuss changing, but she certainly still works for me.”
His words surprised her. “But . . . ?”
“You look so confused,” he said with a soft laugh. “You thought I fired her when you disappeared, sí?” He shook his head. “Ay, Princesa, a better assistant never existed! I merely reassigned her to work on another project.”
Project, she thought, the word tasting cold and unwelcoming. Was that what he thought she was? A project? She wanted to comment but kept her thoughts to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was start an argument when things seemed to be going so well.
The waiter returned to the table, carrying a silver tray that held a bottle and two glasses. Without interrupting them, he quietly set two tall flutes on the table, and after uncorking the champagne, he poured some into each glass. The bubbles rose to the top of the golden liquid, and despite her aversion to alcohol, she lifted her glass when Alejandro held his out to tap against hers.
“Salud, mi amor.” He sipped the champagne and shut his eyes for a moment, enjoying the taste. “¡Qué refresco!”
Curiosity got the best of her, so she tasted it. It was dry and fruity with a lightness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Now, Princesa,” Alejandro said. “Tell me, as I have yet to ask, how is Isadora doing?”
It dawned on Amanda that she, too, had easily slipped back into her role with Alejandro and without Isadora. She felt guilty that she hadn’t spoken to Isadora more frequently, but it was hard to connect with her family. Whenever Amanda called, no one answered, and despite her numerous voice messages, she had received only one return phone call from Anna. Her anticipation of a phone call reminded her of the weeks that had passed as she stared at that cell phone, wishing and praying that Alejandro would call. Now she wished and prayed for the same thing, but from Anna and Isadora.
“Isadora seems fine, Alejandro, and adjusting well,” Amanda answered him. “At least that’s what Anna told me the last time I spoke to her. But I have not called the farm today.”
“She’s in good hands with your family. I would not worry.” He paused and took another sip of his champagne. “Now, what is your plan, Amanda, in regard to Isadora?”
“I should think we’d discuss that together,” she replied a little too quickly. She softened her tone with a smile.
He seemed to consider what she had said, undecided whether she was being sincere or sharp with him. Apparently, he settled for sincere. “Sí, we should discuss this together. I would, however, ask that you update me on her. You are closer to the child than I.”
She couldn’t argue with his comment. So, after a moment’s hesitation to collect her thoughts, she began to eagerly share with him all that she could about Isadora: her grasp of the English language, her joy at living on the farm, and her love for Anna and Lizzie. At one point, Amanda found herself gushing as she spoke, laughing as she told him how Izzie liked to squirt milk into the mouths of the cats and how she had a particular fondness for the small orange kitten.
He listened to her, nodding his head as she spoke. But Amanda got the distinct feeling that her stories about his daughter were not stirring him in the same way that they moved her.
“I’m hearing that you feel the farm is a good environment for her,” he said when she finally finished. He’d picked at his appetizer while she was talking. “That is true, sí?”
“I . . .” Amanda swallowed as she looked at Alejandro. “I don’t know what is good for her, Alejandro,” she admitted slowly. “Is it better for her to be with us or on the farm? Is it better for her if I stayed on the farm without you? Is it better for her to travel with
us and have a person tend to her?” Amanda felt overwhelmed at the thought that one decision could change the outcome of her marriage and Izzie’s future. “This is not a decision that I can make. She is, after all, your daughter.”
Her answer seemed to catch him off guard. “Our daughter,” he replied as he pushed his appetizer plate away although he had not finished eating it. Wiping at his mouth with the white linen napkin, he glanced at the waiter and pointed to his drink, indicating he wanted another. “I think we need time before deciding anything, sí? At least as far as it pertains to Isadora. Right now, I think we can agree that the farm is the best place for her—we know that she’s in a safe and protected environment.”
Slowly, Amanda nodded her head. It hurt for Amanda to admit it, but she knew that Alejandro was right: the farm was the best place for their child. Pulling Isadora from the farm would set back the five-year-old, especially if doing so meant constant traveling and living in hotels. No, having Isadora on the road with them was not an option. And, as Amanda had already told Alejandro, she would not leave him again.
“Now, about you,” he said. “Where is your safe and protected environment, Princesa?”
It was the very question she had been pondering for the past three weeks since he’d left her at the farm.
Oh, how she wished she could have it all: a home, Isadora, and Alejandro. But with his dedication to his career, something he had warned her about long before they married, she knew that if she wanted Alejandro, travel was part of the package. Settling down into a quiet life similar to the one in which she had been raised was impossible. She thought of a sentiment from Ecclesiastes that her mother had often quoted: with much wisdom came great disappointment. How true, Amanda told herself. The more she learned of the Englische world, the more she found herself straddling the fence between two very different pastures: one had hay and the other grain, but neither had both.
