He looked down at the black card, inscribed with silver letters. Her name and number were printed on the front, and she’d handwritten another number below them in silver ink.
Esteban took out his phone and dialed.
“Yes, Mr. Galiano,” Abel answered.
“I’m finished for the evening. Meet me out front.”
“Yes, sir.”
Esteban hung up and took another look at the card.
He’d moved past her betrayal. The anger he’d felt in the past was gone.
If not for Elsa making the decision to leave him, he might not have buckled down and worked harder. In a strange, twisted way, he had her to thank for his success.
He tore the card in two and dropped the pieces in the gold receptacle inside the door.
Chapter 33
“Are you sure you don’t want to come out here and meet me?”
Esteban sounded tired over the phone, and he probably was. He and Santiago had spent the past week in New York and then traveled to California this evening, where they’d remain to visit his restaurants and meet with some of the winery owners and farmers that provided the produce. Sonia knew that because Abena had flown out to California ahead of them, and both women had spoken earlier about several events on his social calendar.
“You’re busy, and I’d just get in the way.”
When she traveled with him before, she’d usually found plenty to occupy her time during the day while he worked. She went sightseeing or shopping, and on occasion joined him for lunch with colleagues. He did his best to spend time with her at night, taking her to a show or dinner, and if there was a business meeting, when possible he arranged for his associates to invite their significant others so she wouldn’t feel out of place.
This time, she hadn’t traveled with him and had told him she didn’t feel well, which wasn’t exactly a lie. She hadn’t been feeling well. Her back bothered her a little bit, and she didn’t have the energy she usually did. She’d simply exaggerated her symptoms to get out of the trip. Except for at the very beginning, this two-week separation would make the longest period they’d been apart. But she needed this time to pack up her clothes and other items and move out.
“I know things have been strained between us lately. We need to talk,” Esteban said in a grim tone.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything meaning what?” Sonia drew her feet close and hugged her knees with one arm. Through the open door of her dressing room, she could see the empty hangers and shelves where her clothes, shoes, and handbags used to be.
“Everything, meaning us. You and me.”
She didn’t know what that meant. It could mean anything, and the uncertainty was part of what was tearing her apart and wearing her down. She didn’t want to talk. Not anymore.
The other day she’d gone to lunch with Jackie and Evan. Jackie giggled constantly and looked so happy, her utter joy was almost painful to watch. Seeing them together brought home the stark reality of what was happening between Sonia and Esteban.
Nothing. Nothing was happening between her and Esteban. She was with a man she didn’t have a future with. They didn’t make plans or discuss activities past the next social engagement or flight. Jackie was moving on—getting married to a man who adored her and discussed a future with her in terms that included babies and growing old together, and she was planning to take over the helm of her family’s business. Meanwhile, Sonia remained in a stagnant, loveless relationship and sat on a certification that she should be using to further her career in a field she loved.
“You’re obviously unhappy, Sonia.”
“You have enough to worry about without concerning yourself with my tantrums.” She said what she thought he’d want to hear.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” Esteban sounded distracted.
“All right,” Sonia said in a hollow voice.
No point in arguing. It didn’t matter because she’d already made up her mind about what she was going to do. Her only recourse was to get away from him, or she’d keep losing herself and loving him harder when he couldn’t—wouldn’t—love her back.
She knew the deal going into this. She had been foolish to fall in love with him.
He remained silent for a while, but she knew he was still on the line because she heard voices in the background, engaged in a conversation he probably needed to get back to.
“You are going to be there when I get back?” he asked.
The jarring question made her freeze. Why would he ask that? Did he sense her intent in the listless answers she gave? Before she’d removed a single item of clothing from his house? Had Delores ratted her out?
“Yes, I’ll be here,” she replied.
“Promise me.”
Her heart constricted and she closed her eyes. She already missed him. His smell, his taste. The way he held her close and smiled at her affectionately. As if he cared, just a little bit. For her, not because he was paying her to share his bed and look good on his arm, but because he genuinely appreciated her presence in his life.
“I promise,” she said.
It got easier to lie when you no longer cared.
Phone calls in the middle of the night were never a good sign.
Bleary-eyed and groggy from her sleep being interrupted, Sonia stared at the 404 area code flashing on the phone. She didn’t recognize the number but knew it was an Atlanta call. She answered right away.
“Hello?”
“Sonia, it’s Val.” Her cousin’s voice sounded thick and heavy, and she sniffled at the end of the sentence. “It’s Daddy. He’s in the hospital, and it doesn’t look good.” She sniffled again.
Sonia scrambled into a sitting position in the dark. “What happened?”
“His heart again.” Valencia’s voice cracked.
“He told me he recently had a checkup and everything was fine.”
They spoke once a week, and she’d been back to see him two months ago. She’d made him get dressed, and taken him and Valencia to a delicious seafood dinner up on Stone Mountain. Valencia had looked suspiciously at her designer clothes and the cavalier way she dropped several hundred dollars on their meal and drinks, but Sonia had only wanted to give back a little bit of what her uncle had given her, and from everything she saw, he’d enjoyed himself immensely. Last time they talked, he mentioned their meal and how one day he was going back to get that lobster in butter sauce appetizer they’d enjoyed.
“He lied. Apparently he didn’t want to worry us, but everything wasn’t fine. I should’ve…”
“It’s not your fault. He was stubborn.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve pushed harder.” Valencia let out a tremulous breath. “They’ve wheeled him into surgery. I don’t know what the outcome will be. The doctors aren’t very optimistic.”
“They’re not optimistic, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be,” Sonia said in a confident voice. “Uncle Rowell is tough as nails, and you know that. He’s going to get through this surgery like he did the first one.” Sonia turned on the bedside lamp and squinted when the light invaded her pupils. “I’ll catch the first flight out.”
“You don’t need to come. I just wanted you to know so that you could be aware.”
“I’m on my way, and nothing you say will stop me. I’m pretty sure I can catch a flight for later this morning. He’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this, okay?” She spoke positively as much for herself as Valencia. They were no longer close like when they were children, but they both loved Uncle Rowell.
“Okay.” Valencia’s voice trembled, and Sonia had never heard her sound so fearful before.
The sound of her cousin’s voice frightened her more than her uncle being in the hospital. Valencia was a tough woman, but if she was worried, that made Sonia worry. She didn’t want to lose her uncle. She wasn’t ready to let him go yet.
She hung up and went to sit behind the desk in Esteban’s office. With a qu
ick shake of the mouse, she brought the computer to life and searched for flights to Atlanta. She found a nonstop flight that left at four forty in the morning and booked it.
She changed into jeans and a comfortable shirt but didn’t bother with an overnight bag. She left a note for Delores, tossed a few necessities in her purse, and hastened out the door to wait for the taxi she’d called.
Within fifteen minutes, she was on the way to the airport, clutching her bag and praying—praying harder than she’d ever prayed before.
Chapter 34
Sonia hated hospitals. Life-saving treatments and surgeries were performed in them, but having to be there meant she was ill, or someone she loved was ill.
Valencia hadn’t answered her phone when Sonia called, so she didn’t know exactly where Uncle Rowell was. She walked to the enclosed reception desk on shaky legs and with a stomach rolling with dread. After a brief exchange, the woman behind the glass directed her to the elevators down the hall.
Sonia found her cousin slumped in a chair on the fourth floor. As she approached, the sense of dread she’d experienced since boarding her flight intensified. Her head throbbed, and the hand gripping her purse tightened hard enough to crush rocks.
As she neared, Valencia looked up, her eyes puffy, her cheeks red and damp with tears. Her shoulders drooped so low they seemed to carry the weight and fears of every patient and their family members in the hospital.
Their eyes remained on each other, and it was then that Sonia knew. She didn’t need to ask, because she saw the grief on her cousin’s face. Valencia shook her head slowly in answer to the unspoken question, and Sonia stopped moving.
She was transported back to the day of her mother’s funeral. Her eight-year-old brain hadn’t been able to accept what was happening, and when she saw her mother lying in the casket, she fainted. She wasn’t eight anymore, and Rowell was not her mother, but the anguish was no less acute.
The room spun and she slumped against the wall, never taking her gaze from her cousin.
“No,” Sonia croaked.
Valencia burst into tears, doubling over and burying her head in her hands. Sonia wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her knees gave way, and she slid down the wall into a crouched position. She let out a gut-wrenching bawl, comprised of both anguish and anger.
Why him? Why did he have to be taken when there were so many terrible people in the world? Why couldn’t it be someone else but this kind, gentle, loving man who had always been her support system? Why?
She thought of Nelson Kennedy, her father, and the last time she’d seen him. She’d clung to her uncle’s hand on the porch because the sight of her father scared her. Drugs had completely consumed him.
He’d come by after her mother’s funeral. The stench on his soiled clothes had been almost intolerable. His stringy, dirty hair clearly hadn’t been cut in a very long time. His teeth were what scared her the most. They were half gone from rotting, and the few that remained looked so caked with filth that she wondered how he managed to close his mouth.
Nelson stayed for a few minutes, called her “baby doll” like her uncle, and tried his best to look and sound normal. But he fidgeted, and he gulped, and after those few minutes, she knew by the look in this eyes that she’d never see him again.
He walked down the long driveway and into the street with his head bent. He never looked back at them on the porch. At eight years old, she’d wanted to run after him. Beg him to clean up. Beg him to change. Beg him to be her daddy. She must have made an unconscious motion to do so, because her uncle’s hands tightened around her fingers.
She never saw her father again. He died two years later.
But Uncle Rowell was always there, a solid presence in her life. Her rock. Keeping her out of trouble. Holding her hand. Now he was gone, and she didn’t get to say goodbye.
As much as she wanted to wallow in her pain, she couldn’t let grief overtake her.
She rose with difficulty and walked to where her cousin sat doubled over. Sonia put her arms around her and, without hesitating, Valencia rested her head on her shoulder.
With tears streaming down their cheeks, they cried, and they held on tight.
To each other.
There had been an impressive turnout for the funeral. The number of people that attended from church, Uncle Rowell’s old job, and the neighborhood was overwhelming and indicative of the character of the man who had passed away. He’d touched a lot of lives. Family members and people from all walks of life, in all aspects of the community, knew her uncle and came out to pay their respects. Sonia was grateful for the outpouring of love.
“I wish you’d called me before,” Esteban said over the phone.
“There’s nothing you could have done.”
“Your uncle is dead, Sonia. I could have done more than send a wreath. I could have been there for you.” He sounded exasperated.
It was the second time they’d spoken since her arrival in Atlanta. When she’d called to tell him about her uncle’s death, he’d wanted to come right away, but she’d insisted he stay in California, pointing out that he’d arrive too late for the funeral. She’d purposely waited until the day of the service to tell him because she knew he’d want to come.
He knew about her uncle and their close relationship, but both men had never met, something she realized she’d subconsciously made sure never happened to keep both parts of her life separate. A self-preservation technique, for when her affair with Esteban ended.
“How much longer will you be there?” Esteban asked.
“Three, four days at the most, to help my cousin tie up a few things,” she lied. She’d be back in Miami by early afternoon.
Sonia and Valencia had already packed up Uncle Rowell’s personal affairs and prepped the house for sale. They had bonded over Chinese food, deep dish pizza, laughter, and tears while they sorted his belongings into Keep, Discard, and Donate boxes.
Valencia allowed Sonia to take a few mementos, for which she was grateful. Among them was a well-worn book of poetry he kept beside his bed with notes written in the margins, his glasses, which he seldom wore but desperately needed, and a laminated recipe card that contained the handwritten instructions for the best darn red velvet cake in the country.
She and Valencia were in the lobby of Buchanan, Rothstein, and Hoyt, a boutique firm in Midtown. They had an appointment for the reading of the will. While her cousin sat texting, Sonia stood at the window speaking quietly into the phone.
They had been surprised to learn her uncle had a will. He didn’t have much, and Valencia had access to his bank account, and her name was listed on the deed of the house, allowing her to take full possession in the event of his death. Sonia was even more surprised to learn that she was mentioned in his will. While he did raise her, she was not his daughter.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Esteban asked.
He sounded so concerned that her resolve wavered. Then she reminded herself to be strong and continue her plans to walk away. Only heartbreak would come from loving a man who didn’t love you back.
“I’m sure.”
“Ladies, you can go in now,” the receptionist said.
“It’s time for me to go,” Sonia said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right.” Esteban’s voice held a note of resignation.
Sonia hung up and followed her cousin down the hallway to Sterling Buchanan’s office. He stood in the open doorway, younger than expected, a light-skinned brother with blue eyes and a goatee.
She and Valencia entered his office, sat down in front of him, and waited.
“Before we begin,” he said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Mr. Melancon was a wonderful man. He was kind and generous in spirit. I owe much of my success to him.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “He sent so many referrals our way it helped us build our business. Not to mention, he made the best dang red velvet cake I’ve ever had. I looked forward
to his delivery every Christmas.”
They all laughed—bittersweet, but a much-needed easing of tension in the room.
“As you know, your father, and your uncle, lived a very modest lifestyle. Some would say frugal, and one of the amazing things about him was that he managed to hide much of his assets from the rest of the world. I was surprised when I looked at the totality of the estate he left behind.”
“Estate?” Valencia said. “I wouldn’t call his meager savings and that old house on Sixth Street an estate.”
The leather chair creaked when Sterling settled back into it. “Well, the house is worth quite a bit. As you know, there’s a lot of construction in the area, and your father was wise not to sell. He’s sitting on a premium property that’s worth a hefty sum. But that’s only part of it. His entire estate is worth, with savings and life insurance policies, the house, and his mutual funds, almost seven million.”
Valencia’s eyes went wide and they both gasped.
“Excuse me? I think I misheard you,” Sonia said.
Valencia sat up and forward. “S-seven million dollars? You must be mistaken.”
Sterling shook his head. “I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Valencia’s mouth fell open. “But, but he lived as if...”
“Seven million?” Sonia said again.
Sterling nodded and smiled. “Now let me tell you how he wanted everything to be divided up.”
The bulk of her uncle’s $6.85 million estate would be split between Sonia and Valencia. After disbursements to other entities, three million went to Valencia and two million to Sonia.
Even now, she couldn’t believe the sum. He’d lived his life so simply, never buying anything nice for himself, and seldom purchased anything new. All his possessions—furniture, clothes, car, everything—he’d purchased secondhand. He’d lived in that drafty old house until she hired a company to install the central heating and air system for him. She’d thought he’d done all of that out of necessity. She’d thought he was poor, but he wasn’t. Far from it, in fact. He was rich. Rich in money, rich in love, and rich in compassion. She had no doubt he’d scrimped and saved all those years to leave something behind for her and Valencia.
More Than a Mistress (Latin Men Book 5) Page 21