by Peggy Bird
“Still, it was ...”
“Awkward?”
“To say the least. I am sorry, Marius.” She put her hand on his arm as she apologized when the thought occurred to her that his wife could be there and watching. Removing her hand, she asked, “Is she here tonight? I could apologize to her in person.”
“She couldn’t find a babysitter so she couldn’t make it. Please, don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.” He took a sip of his wine before adding, “But if you’re serious about talking to her, give me your phone number and address, and the next time we do something social at the house, I’ll make sure you get invited and you can tell her yourself.”
She wasn’t sure what her reception would be at the Hernandez home, but she complied with the request. As she was scribbling her address on the back of a business card, Sandra Daniels joined them.
“I see you found my favorite coffee broker to chat up until I got here, Bella,” she said as she put out her hand for Marius to shake.
“I’m the only coffee broker you know in Seattle, Sandra. And don’t bother flattering me. Cynthia and I are still happy living where we are.” His wide grin seemed to say he didn’t really mean the dismissive words.
“Well, promise me you won’t forget me when you’re not. I’m sure I can sell that beautiful house of yours in a weekend.” She looked back and forth from her client to the handsome coffee broker. “So, did you two know each other before you got here or ...?”
Bella explained the family connections between the Hernandez and Rodriguez families, conveniently—or not so conveniently—omitting the event in Portland for which she had just apologized.
• • •
Who was the woman talking to Sandra and Marius? Taylor didn’t think he’d ever seen her at one of these events before. If he had, he’d surely remember her. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Without her heels, she wouldn’t be tall, not much over five feet, he thought, but a palpable energy emanated from her. He could feel it even across the room. Her long, dark hair was pulled back from her face in what looked like an attempt to tame wild curls that his fingers itched to touch, to see what they felt like. When she talked, as she was doing now, what he thought were dark eyes flashed, her lovely face was animated, and her hands participated in telling the story. She was about as far away from any woman he’d ever been attracted to as she could be, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Not only did she have a compelling face, but the rest of her was fascinating, too. Curvy hips were hugged by a slim skirt. Nicely toned legs showed from the hem right above her knees to a pair of sky-high heels. A fitted jacket emphasized a slender waist and a hint of cleavage. He hadn’t been this fascinated by a woman in—well, he couldn’t even remember when the last time was. He absolutely wanted to know more about her. As soon as he got a glass of wine, he’d go over and talk to Sandra and Marius. He knew both of them and could cadge an introduction from whichever of them knew her.
The crowd had grown enough that the line for the wine was twenty-deep. Taylor had almost decided to leave without a drink when a third bartender appeared and the line started moving faster. He stayed.
Big mistake.
By the time he got a glass of wine, the beautiful, dark-haired woman had disappeared into the crowd that had seemed to have doubled in size again during the time he’d been in line. He walked around the room, stopping at every small cluster of people, looking for her. Or Marius. Or Sandra. Both were also among the missing. Conversations with people he knew kept him from a laserlike focus on his quest, but after forty-five minutes of off and on searching, his glass was almost empty and he hadn’t found any of the three people he was seeking. Sandra and Marius, he discovered in several conversations, had separately left. The woman, who’d intrigued him and who was unknown by anyone he talked to, had disappeared into the night like Cinderella. Without leaving a glass slipper or a phone number.
But Taylor had an advantage over Prince Charming. He didn’t need a shoe to track his mysterious woman down. He had Marius Hernandez, whom he’d met when the coffee broker had used MBA Consulting’s help in opening the Seattle branch of his family’s business. As Taylor left the event after an hour more of socializing, he decided to call him on Monday. Surely Marius would know how to track her down.
Chapter Seven
“Taylor. It’s been a long time,” Marius said when he answered the phone. “It’s good to hear from you. I hear you made partner at MBA. Congratulations. But if you’re calling to see if I need your help again, I’m still implementing the ideas you gave me the last go around. Although I may have a name or two for you to call.”
“I’m always ready to get the names of possible clients, but what I’m calling for is a favor.” Taylor hesitated for a moment, suddenly wondering if his impulse would be interpreted as more like stalking than trying to get an introduction to an attractive woman.
“Just tell me what you want. MBA was the reason I had such a smooth entry into the Seattle business scene. Anything I can do for you, I will.”
“Actually, it’s a personal favor. And I’m beginning to feel a bit foolish asking.”
“Personal, huh? That’s interesting. Why don’t you ask and let me decide if it’s foolish.”
“Okay. Look, it’s about the woman you were talking to at the Chamber meet-and-greet the other evening ...”
“Which woman? I must have talked to a couple dozen or more. There was Tina Minor, she’s a lawyer in town. And Sandra Daniels, she’s a real estate broker. I’d have thought you’d know them. Then there was ...”
“No, she was a little brunette. In a black suit. You were talking to her when I walked in. It was about six forty-five or so.”
“Ah, should have guessed.”
Taylor swore he could hear a muffled laugh. “I know it sounds like something from middle school, but ...”
“You’d like to meet her.”
“Yeah. I would. Do you know her well enough to arrange an introduction?”
“You could say so. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Her grandfather and mine came from Cuba together back in the early sixties. Her name is Isabella Rodriguez. She recently moved to Seattle. Opening an office for some company she’s been working with for a while. Can’t remember the name although I should. It’s an odd one.” There was a pause, as if he were trying to remember. “Doesn’t matter. When you meet her, she can tell you. I’m sure she’d love to make new friends. She said she hasn’t had much of a chance to meet people.”
“Maybe you could ask her if it would be okay to give me her phone number. Or something.”
“I have a better idea. Cynthia—my wife—is having a reception this coming Saturday at the Erickson Gallery. She’s debuting some new jewelry designs for Max Erickson. I planned to invite Bella, and I’ll see you get an invitation, too. I’ll suggest she get there at seven. If you’re there then, you can meet her. That work for you?”
“It’s great. Thank you. I owe you.”
“Actually not. It would be doing a favor for me to connect her with a few friends.”
“Are you responsible for her or something?” Now Taylor was curious about the exact relationship between Marius and the lovely Ms. Rodriguez. Then a possibility occurred. “She’s not an ex-girlfriend, is she?”
“God, no,” Marius said before breaking into a loud laugh. “But please don’t repeat your question in front of my wife.”
“Is there a story there?”
“A long one. But it’s too complicated for right now. Maybe some night over a drink, I’ll tell you.” Taylor could hear the rustle of paper. “Give me your home address so I can make sure Cynthia gets an invitation to you.”
Taylor recited his mailing address, thanked Marius for his help, got the names of the leads for new clients, and disconnected the call. He’d succeeded in his goal of finding out who the beautiful woman was. Now all he had to do was figure out why it mattered to him so much.
&n
bsp; • • •
A week after the meet-and-greet, Bella was no closer to getting to the root of the problem with the zone change than she’d been the first day she arrived in Seattle. She’d talked to half a dozen people at the event who’d given her the names of people to contact in the city who might be able to give her some help or at least an insight into what was going on. She’d followed up on every one of the suggestions. But no matter whom she talked to, the story had been the same: the staff had flagged the application because of the formal opposition of the neighborhood association, and any action would have to wait until after a hearing. Which couldn’t be scheduled for weeks, maybe as long as a couple months. If it took that long, Summer would miss her target date for opening.
The president of the neighborhood association who’d filed the objection was out of town so Bella couldn’t talk to her. She did make an appointment with the city staffer who worked with the neighborhood associations, but he couldn’t give her any better advice than anyone else had about how to get past the objections of the neighbors.
Bella was stumped. There was only so much work Summer was willing to pay to have the contractors begin in the house until after the zoning change was official, but what could be done, Bella got back on track. She was more successful at contacting lawyers, counselors, and writers who might be interested in joining their resource base, expanding their pool of expertise to provide the services the firm offered. She wouldn’t be making the final decision about whom to work with, but she wanted to have the research done to discuss with Summer when she was next in Seattle.
She made the decision to move ahead with the marketing plan and set up a meeting with Nate Benjamin at MBA Consulting. Persuading Summer to stay overnight, she also scheduled a series of telephone and in-person interviews with the possible consultants she’d identified.
She felt reasonably satisfied with what she’d accomplished although her frustration at not being able to move the huge barrier of the zoning change bothered her. Maybe it was her lack of experience, maybe her concern she wasn’t quite up to the challenge, but she was afraid she wasn’t doing a good enough job and it ate at her confidence, in spite of Summer’s continued praise for what she’d accomplished.
An invitation to a reception for Cynthia Blaine, Marius’s wife, was a welcome distraction from her work worries. It came with a note from Marius asking her to be there by seven so he could introduce her to someone who wanted to meet her. As a chance to meet Cynthia at an event where they wouldn’t be forced to carry on too much of a conversation but where she could apologize for her behavior a year ago, it was perfect. And she was curious about who could possibly know enough about her to want to meet her.
On the night of the event, she made sure to wear the neckpiece she owned created by Cynthia Blaine and left in plenty of time to get to the Pioneer Square gallery by seven.
It was the usual drizzly end-of-winter/beginning-of-spring night in Seattle, and finding a parking place was difficult, but on her third, or maybe fourth, swing around the block where the gallery was located, a car pulled out in front of her. She squeezed her little Kia into the space and ran through the rain toward the bright lights and buzz of the reception.
“How nice to see you.” Marius greeted her with a hug as soon as she was in the door. She resisted at first because she could see, over his shoulder, the woman she knew was his wife. But when Cynthia smiled, she relaxed a bit and returned the gesture. He walked her across the gallery with his arm around her shoulders and stopped in front of his wife. Looking down at her, his expression one of barely contained amusement, he started the introductions. “Cynthia, you met Bella Rodriquez last year, but the circumstances weren’t exactly the most conducive to getting to know each other.” He couldn’t seem to stop a wicked grin from breaking out. “Bella, I believe you remember Cynthia Blaine.”
Bella could feel her face heat up with embarrassment.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Marius, stop torturing the poor woman. Of course we remember meeting each other.” Cynthia extended her hand. “We should both ignore my husband. He’s having way too much fun with this. I’m happy you could join us tonight. It’s long past time we met under more amiable circumstances. And you wore my Cleopatra collar Marius gave you.”
“My family gave her, querida,” Marius corrected.
“Sorry, your family gave her.” The couple exchanged smiles, as if this was something they’d said to each other before.
Bella could feel the flush creeping up her neck again. “I love it. And I wear it all the time.”
“I’m glad. I always like to know my pieces find homes with people who appreciate them.”
“Can I get you a glass of champagne, Bella?” Marius asked.
“You don’t have to. I can get my own,” she said.
“No, you two talk. I’ll be back shortly.” Marius headed for the bar.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Bella broke it with, “I’m glad I have this chance to give you the apology I owe you for what happened in Portland at the art museum.”
“That was some evening, wasn’t it? Not exactly the best time for either of us,” Cynthia said. “You’d just lost your father. I’d just found out I was pregnant and thought Marius was cheating on me.”
“Yes, well, my hanging on to him like some sort of monkey certainly must have looked like he was. I’m sorry I upset you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Everything worked out. We’re fine. So’s our daughter. And you’ve got a great new job, Marius said.”
“Yeah, I’m working on opening a branch office for a friend’s business here in Seattle. I thought about contacting Marius when I moved here but wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get after ... well, you know. Then I saw him at the Chamber event, and he was his usual friendly self.”
“He was surprised his family hadn’t mentioned you’d relocated. I assume your family knows you’re here?”
“Yes, but since my father died, I don’t know how much contact my brothers have with the Hernandez family.”
“Well, I’m glad you could come tonight. Longtime friends like the two of you shouldn’t lose touch, should they?”
Bella was impressed by how calm Cynthia seemed. Could she really be so understanding about the woman who’d tried to stake a claim to the man she was now married to? It seemed so. “You’re being gracious and I appreciate it. I’m relieved we’ve begun to clear the air. But I shouldn’t keep you from your other guests. Thank you for inviting me, by the way.”
“No problem. The more the merrier at an opening reception. Besides, Marius said he’d invited someone who wants to meet you.”
“Yes, he told me, although he didn’t say who it was. Do you know?
Marius arrived with a flute of champagne before Cynthia could respond. “Here you are, Bella. And if you’re asking about your secret admirer, no, he’s not here yet. I expect him soon, however. When he gets here, I’ll find you and make the introductions.”
Two glasses of champagne, an hour, and at least five times around the gallery later, Bella decided to say her farewells and leave. She’d looked at Cynthia’s work so many times, she was sure she could draw each piece from memory. And she was more and more convinced her mysterious admirer, whoever he was, had gotten cold feet. She didn’t need to stay there any longer feeling rejected.
Marius tried to convince her to stay for a few more minutes, but she was tired of hanging around, waiting. She was beginning to feel desperate, too much like she’d felt the first time she’d met Cynthia Blaine, and she didn’t like it.
When she begged off, Marius switched to asking her if he could pass along her phone number to the man. She asked him not to, unwilling to seem overeager, and slipped out into the dark, rainy night, headed for home.
Chapter Eight
Damn the traffic. Damn the parking around damned Pioneer Square. Most of all, damn the iBit executives for running hours over their allotted meeting time. Okay, maybe he s
houldn’t curse the hand that would be feeding him business and income for the foreseeable future. But as fascinating and important as the company was, the dinner meeting with them had gone on for far too long. And now he was stuck trying to find a place to park so he could get to the gallery with some hope of meeting Cinderella.
After fifteen minutes of having no parking karma whatsoever, he decided to double park and run into the gallery so Marius knew he was on his way and could keep Isabella from leaving until he could find a place to ditch his car. But before he could, a red car indicated it was about to pull out from the curb only a half block away from the gallery. Taylor flipped on his turn signal and waited for the driver to leave the space so he could park.
He knew as soon as he walked into the gallery he was too late.
“Where the hell have you been, Taylor?” Marius asked. “I kept her here as long as I could but she decided you’d changed your mind and left. Can’t say I blame her.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was at a dinner meeting with a new client and couldn’t break away.”
“You could have called. It might have helped convince her to stay.”
“I did call. Twice. But you didn’t pick up.”
Marius pulled out his phone and checked the call log. “Oh, hell, you did. I forgot Cynthia asked me to turn my phone off so I wouldn’t be distracted.”
“Well, can you give me her phone number at least?”
“I asked her if it would be okay, and she said no. I think she was embarrassed.”
“Oh, come on, Marius. Please?” He was begging, with no shred of pride. It wasn’t like him, but damn it to hell, he’d decided he wanted to meet her and he always went after what he wanted with enthusiasm.
“Sorry, Taylor. I gave my word. What I can do is try to set up another way for you to meet her. Maybe a dinner party at our house or something. I’ll have to check with Cynthia and work it out.”
“I’d appreciate it, Marius. I really want to meet her.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’ll see what I can do.” Marius clapped him on the shoulder. “Meantime, take a look around at my wife’s work and have a glass of champagne.”
