The Dalmatian Dilemma

by Cheryl Harper

  Charlie didn’t answer. He didn’t have another option.

  “Bo and I are here for his last visit. Next time, I’ll have a new dog. Bo’s going to his new home this week.” Sean stretched his legs out. He had time. He could wait for Charlie to settle in. If it didn’t happen today, he’d be back. “Since I’m so popular here, I could introduce you around. I have connections.”

  Charlie snorted. “All the pretty nurses?”

  Monique was the only nurse Sean could recall, so he said, “You realize there’s a whole new audience here who has never heard any of your stories?”

  Charlie sighed. “Yeah. It’s a lot of trouble to go out there and meet people.”

  And he wanted to be alone. Depression was a threat to Charlie and vets like him. Sean’s support group that met nightly at the Concord pool was his lifeline. The gents could be Charlie’s.

  “I can help you,” Sean said as he stood. “Let me. You’re going to like these guys.”

  Charlie finally turned his head to meet Sean’s stare. “Make the best of a bad situation, huh?”

  Sean tipped his head to the side. “Make the most of every day. As long as you’re staring at these four walls, life is passing you by. Doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Jump down, Bo,” Charlie said, his tone aggrieved and annoyed. “I have to make an effort.” The dog jumped down and Charlie sat up. Sean shifted the man’s wheelchair closer and waited for Charlie to wheel himself out to the hallway. He and Bo followed. Charlie seemed to know exactly where he was headed.

  Because he was smart.

  Depression was hovering there on the edges, but the guy was a fighter.

  When they made it to the common area, Bo immediately headed for Dan, and Charlie followed the dog’s lead. “Dan, Tommy, Darius, this is my friend Charlie Fox. He was career Air Force and he has some stories you would not believe. Tell them about the London pub where you met Princess Diana.”

  Dan’s eyes immediately widened. He gasped. “No, you didn’t!”

  The twinkle that lit up Charlie’s eyes when he was about to tell a wild story—one that might even be true—appeared. “Let me see my friends out and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  They’d reached Monique’s desk before Charlie cleared his throat. Bo ignored the awkward silence between them as he chomped the biscuit Monique kept on hand for the dog’s visits, and Sean and Charlie watched as if they had to memorize Bo’s movements.

  Then he couldn’t delay any longer. “Guess it’s time for us to go.”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got a story to tell. Hope I can remember it.” Then he coughed. “We okay?”

  Sean glanced at him before busying himself with Bo’s vest. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Charlie nodded. “Queenie evicted me, not you. I understand that, and I know why she had to do it.” When he’d arrived at Concord Court, Charlie had asked Reyna about a million questions. One of them had been her call sign, something Sean had never heard until Charlie mentioned it. In the Air Force, they’d called her Queen, a play on her name. Charlie had changed it up to Queenie, to make sure everyone understood Reyna was a regular person, no better or worse than Charlie Fox. And Reyna had allowed it.

  That was the part that still blew Sean’s mind. “Boss” was the extent of his daring.

  Charlie scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “You didn’t have to check on me, but I thank you. I’ll make an effort.”

  Sean crossed his arms over his chest. “Good. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.” Then he added, “I should warn you about the gents and Dan. Some days he forgets.”

  “Some days, I’d like to forget. Maybe he won’t remember that the Princess Diana story changes every time I tell it.”

  Sean said, “Ask him about his hunting dog. He has about a hundred stories about him and growing up in the country.”

  Charlie’s jaw dropped. “The country? The suit and tie threw me off. We do have things to talk about.” Before Sean could promise he’d be back soon, Charlie had backed his chair away from the front desk and wheeled toward the common room. He obviously wanted to enjoy Dan’s stories.

  Monique’s grin was contagious. “Good work, hero. Take the rest of the day off.”

  Sean didn’t have much to say to that. He’d washed out of the Marines at his first chance and now he delivered old men to nursing homes. How was that heroic?

  “Ready to go home, Bo? We’ve got some arrangements to make. You’re going to meet your new best friend this week.” He followed Bo out, opened the truck door, and the dog jumped in.

  Reyna had missed an excellent visit. Sean hoped for Queenie’s sake that the Montero family brunch was going well. She’d be in a good mood when he made his proposal. It was time to expand his project. If he had any chance of earning that “hero” title, this was it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  REYNA TIGHTENED HER grip on the steering wheel as she stopped at the guardhouse to her father’s exclusive club. There was no need to experience these nerves. She’d been to the Cutler Bay Club many times—her father had been a member for as long as she could remember. This was where he negotiated deals, showed off his family and occasionally played golf.

  “Your name, ma’am?” the young guy in a spotless white uniform asked.

  “Reyna Montero.”

  “May I have your driver’s license?”

  Reyna pulled it from her purse and slid it through the window.

  While he clicked on his computer, Reyna had a flashback to so many times in her life of clearing such guardhouses to return to base. He had the same official manner she’d been trained in, as if this country club required safety measures equal to United States military installations. Whoever trained this young man had done a thorough job. When she looked back up, he was studying her with a squint, as if he was evaluating whether she could be an impostor.

  When he was satisfied, he handed her back the license and raised the gate. “Thank you, ma’am. Please proceed to the main club building. You’ll find parking straight ahead.”

  Reyna ignored her weird urge to salute his formal manner and followed his directions. “Straight ahead” took a minute because the road wound through parts of the golf course, complete with golf cart crossings. Brilliant green grass lined the road, along with palm trees and occasional plantings of lush foliage and bright flowers.

  “How many gardeners does it take to maintain a golf course in southern Florida?” Reyna murmured. It was a good setup for a joke, but she couldn’t find a punch line. So much money. She reached a fork with a discreet sign that pointed toward the marina. As far as she knew, her father had never fully committed to owning a yacht. The club had at least one that could be rented as needed. Members only, of course.

  Her father had insisted on throwing a Sweet Sixteen birthday party for her on the Gold Standard, which had been his second wife’s brother’s yacht. Inviting every student in her class at the exclusive Ross Collegiate School had been embarrassing; being forced to waltz the first dance with her father had been worse.

  But living with the snide comments about Daddy’s money being able to buy her everything but a boyfriend had been the worst. She’d never fit in at Ross, and Reyna would have done almost anything to escape Miami, her father and his society friends. The Ivy League colleges her father had planned to send her to would never have worked. Montero money and its problems would have followed her.

  Instead of using the valet, Reyna pulled into the first spot she could find. “Fine day for a walk.” The number of cars in the lot didn’t surprise her—the club’s brunch was excellent.

  Or it had been the last time she was here.

  Reyna walked toward the building and tried to guess how long it had been since she’d had brunch at the club. Ten years? Fifteen?

  When she reached the front door, a young woman held it open for her. “Ms. Mon
tero, we are happy to have you today. Your family is out on the terrace. The view of the water is lovely this morning.” She motioned Reyna forward.

  Apparently the guardhouse called ahead to notify them of visitors.

  How efficient.

  Reyna followed the young woman through a dining room filled with enough booths and alcoves to allow for plenty of private business dealings. When she stepped out on the terrace, she had to stop to take it all in. Lovely didn’t do this view justice. She’d stepped into a shady garden. Vines made living walls and created thick coverings. Leaves stirred in a breeze no doubt created by hidden fans. And it all framed a view of the sparkling ocean. A sailboat was frozen on the horizon as if this was a landscape, an oil painting, instead of real life.

  And at the table front and center, the one with the best view of all, sat her father. He was dressed in an expensive suit and silk tie, prepared to do business wherever it might pop up. He stood as she approached the table and accepted her hug before pulling her chair out. Reyna bent to kiss her stepmother Marisol’s cheek. The third Mrs. Montero was by far Reyna’s favorite, mainly because she was a genuinely kind person. Marisol had dressed for the occasion as well, but on her, silk was effortless. Small lines radiated from her eyes and gray hairs dotted her temple, but she was still the second-most beautiful woman Reyna had seen yet.

  The first was her sister, Brisa, who was sitting beside their father. She didn’t stand but it was easy to see relief settle over her. Her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, sis, wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  Since Reyna had used every excuse under the sun to cancel on her father’s command performances, she understood what her sister meant. “Things are finally settling down. As soon as I have the assistant manager on board, Concord Court will be fully operational and we can ramp up admissions.”

  “Finally,” her father sighed. “Then I can return to focusing on what I’m good at. The money to pay for all that won’t make itself.”

  “It’s a good thing Brisa’s been such a help with your party,” Marisol said mildly. “Isn’t it, Luis?”

  Reyna watched her sister’s face closely. She was surprised Marisol had spoken up. And pleased. Brisa’s eyes met Reyna’s before returning to the view.

  Their father grunted. Brisa raised her chin, and Reyna was sure no one else would ever guess he’d hurt her.

  Some things never changed. Reyna had witnessed the same scenario a hundred different ways growing up.

  “Brisa has been organizing this cocktail party for next month.” Marisol shook out her napkin and spread it over her lap. “We’ve lined up the caterers, and I think the roof of the Sandpiper Hotel is going to make a memorable backdrop. Brisa worked on the guest list and the invitations. She’s done a lot to make this big event a success.” Marisol’s lips were a firm line, and she’d wrapped her hand around Brisa’s.

  Reyna was glad to see that her sister had Marisol’s support. Getting some distance had made it easier for Reyna to get along with her father, but Brisa had been here, enduring the brunt of his focus. It couldn’t have been easy, since Brisa had eloped at eighteen with her high school boyfriend, a clueless kid from a similarly rich family. In one move, Brisa had scrapped her father’s plans for her and college and an appropriate society alliance via marriage. It had taken two years for the marriage to fall apart, due mainly to lack of parental support through funding. Brisa had returned home, and she’d been dealing with the consequences ever since. Clearly, she and Marisol had made an unofficial pact to stick together.

  “Glad to have the main attraction on hand. I’ve already told all my friends about my daughter, the Air Force pilot. Brisa, they know very well. Reyna will stir up more interest in our project.” Luis raised his eyebrows at Reyna. “Next goal you need to tackle is to turn this opportunity into real dollars for Concord Court. I built it. I expect you to run it. That means paying the bills on your own someday, too.”

  “Actually, it’s funny you should bring that up,” Reyna said slowly as she formulated a weak plan in her head. Listening to Marisol outline Brisa’s involvement in their father’s plans had sparked an idea. “I’d planned to run something by you before I moved forward, but it’s not necessary. Before I open the job listing for the assistant manager...” Reyna sipped her water before continuing. “Concord Court could use Brisa’s skills and connections day-to-day, too.”

  Could it? Reyna wasn’t sure, but she’d taken her usual position in their family: standing with her sister against her father’s judgment. “She improved my shaky Fourth of July celebration, and there’s plenty else to do.”

  Reyna had come home to get closer to her sister.

  This would work.

  Her father frowned. “She’s a...model. That’s right, isn’t it, Brisa? You’re still modeling.” His tone made it clear that it was too hard to follow her sister’s wild career path. Brisa had never been great at sticking with things past the fun stage. “What skills could she bring?”

  The only one Reyna required was being able to cover the office on Saturdays until she finished her class and passed the physical aptitude test. That answer would do nothing to change the tension at the table.

  “Connections, Dad. She moves in Miami society. You know I’ll never be comfortable schmoozing those money people for funding, and it can’t be a once-a-year thing, either. There are local businesses to contact, and we’re at a growth stage. That’s exciting.” Reyna glanced at her sister. It was impossible to tell if she was hurting or helping Brisa at this point. “Besides, I’ve missed my baby sister.”

  That was easy to say; Reyna meant it from the heart. Ever since she’d returned to Miami, she’d expected some revelation that would make it easy to bridge the gap that had grown between them while she’d been in the Air Force, but nothing came.

  “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself for the fact that you aren’t comfortable in Miami society now. You never should have joined the military in the first place. The Monteros serve in a different way. If you’d done what I told you to do—gotten some kind of degree and married someone here—how different would your life be now?” Her father’s dark eyes were serious as he waited for her to acknowledge his verdict.

  Well, from a purely logical standpoint, there’d be no Concord Court if she’d followed her father’s orders. Of course life would be different.

  Saying any part of that out loud would lead to an argument, and she might be arrested by the military-like security guard at the front gate, so Reyna bit her tongue.

  “I’d like to help at Concord Court,” Brisa said with a sunny smile. “I already know the place pretty well, since Daddy used me as unpaid labor until Sean showed up. I worked with the architects. I supervised the design of the place.” Brisa picked up her water glass to take a dainty sip, and Reyna realized that one or two things might have changed since she’d been gone.

  Her little sister had learned to do some fighting for herself.

  Reyna met her stare across the table and they shared a small smile.

  “Unpaid.” Her father grunted. “Right. Let me tell my accountant that so he’ll stop the rent payments, car payments and credit card payments. Wouldn’t want to insult your integrity with my money.”

  “If she moved into Concord Court to take over this assistant management position, imagine how much you’d be saving.” Marisol smiled vaguely around the table and picked up her mimosa. “This is an excellent plan, girls. Let’s toast to new jobs.”

  As Reyna picked up her own mimosa, she noticed the small tick in her father’s jaw. Was he clamping his mouth closed to keep from saying what he wanted to? Another trait that ran in the family.

  “To new jobs.” Reyna happily clinked her sister’s glass. “Let’s meet this week. We can make plans.”

  Brisa nodded.

  “Better wait three months or so to make sure this job sticks before you move her into t
he Court,” Luis said. “Moving her out again will be a hassle.”

  Brisa’s smile didn’t slip, so Reyna pasted on her own smile. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

  Marisol patted her hand. “Me, too. Now tell us what’s been keeping you so busy.” Waiters approached their table silently.

  Reyna raised an eyebrow at her sister when plates of food were placed in front of them. They hadn’t ordered yet. Her father raised his phone and pointed at it to give someone across the room a directive to call him. Reyna wasn’t certain but she thought the balding man in the corner was a former governor.

  “Since you were late, Daddy went ahead and ordered for you,” Brisa said. “Time is money, et cetera, and so on.” She picked up her fork. “Early is on time, and on time means you take what you get.”

  Silence except for the faintest clinks of silverware on plates fell over the table while they all sampled the brunch offerings. Reyna scooted the chunks of avocado over to one side. In a world of diverse cuisines, there were only a few things Reyna didn’t like. But avocado made the list. Either her father had forgotten that or he’d never paid attention. She wouldn’t have chosen that for herself, but everything else was delicious.

  “You took care of the problem we discussed the last time I dropped in?” her father asked.

  Charlie had been that problem. She would have let the old guy live in his town house as long as it took to fill up the complex, but her father was still in his hands-on phase of this project. Over the months, thankfully his standing Wednesday meetings had become more sporadic. Eventually he’d move on.

  Once he was certain she’d instituted all of his policies correctly.

  “I did. He’s been moved to a rehab facility in Homestead. I’m going to stop in and check on him as soon as I have a chance.” She would. It would help with the guilt.

  “That’s not what I was asking. You mean you haven’t contacted that family Senator Nixon called me about?” Her father’s dark eyebrows smashed together.

  With that one comment, Reyna came closer to understanding her father’s willingness to pay for a project like this—for him, politics could mean profit.