Snow Falling

by Jane Gloriana Villanueva

  Martin hopped out of the carriage in front of the Regal Sol and sent Nita on to the Miami Pinkerton office.

  He hurried to the concierge desk, but her supervisor told him Josephine had been given responsibility for making sure the hotel’s entertainment was in order that night. Thanking the man, Martin charged along the path to the rotunda, but the show had already concluded. He snuck into the wings off the stage and caught a glimpse of Zara and Alberta with one of the stage performers, but no sign of Josephine.

  Hoping that she’d headed home, he raced back onto the path and nearly sprinted to the Valencia cottage. There was a light on inside, and his heart stopped for a beat as he imagined Josephine there, just beyond the wood of the door and glass of the windows.

  His hand was almost trembling as he raised it and knocked on the door. A second later, it jerked open and the sharpness of the movement sent flakes of white paint drifting down again.

  A good sign, he thought, and then a second later, she was flying through the door and into his arms.

  More snow! It’s another miracle! True love will always win out, my friends.

  Josephine held on to Martin tightly, almost unable to believe that he was finally there. The tears of sadness and frustration she had shed on the way home from the Regal Sol were now replaced with tears of joy.

  “I am so glad you are home,” she said and kissed the side of his face.

  “I am glad to be home, my darling.” He cradled her cheeks and wiped away the trail of tears. “You’ve been crying.”

  “Happy tears now that you’re here,” she said, taking hold of his hand and urging him into the cottage.

  “Did something happen? Did that cad hurt you?” he said, his growing anger visible on the tight lines of his handsome face.

  “No, Rake didn’t do anything. It was my mother who upset me. And my father,” she explained and guided him to a chair at the kitchen table. Needing something to do, she set about preparing tea while she told him what had happened just a short time earlier.

  Martin had been silent, but as she placed a cup of tea before him, he said, “Maybe she just wanted to protect you.”

  Josephine slammed her cup on the table a little more forcefully, causing it to rattle and the tea to spill. “Maybe I don’t need protecting.”

  Martin laid a gentle hand over hers. “I know you don’t. If I’ve been overprotective, it wasn’t to smother you, Josephine. It’s because you’re so important to me.”

  “You’re important to me too, Martin, but we need to allow people to grow, and if they make a mistake—” She stopped short, aware she was heading onto dangerous ground.

  Martin squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We all make mistakes. I erred in trying to keep you from what was happening with the investigation. There were things I could have shared with you without compromising my obligations.”

  Josephine smiled and twined her fingers with his. “I made a big mistake, Martin. I let misguided anger drive me into doing something…irresponsible, and I hurt you. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

  A full-lipped smile erupted on Martin’s face. He brought her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on it. “I can, Josephine. And I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive your mother. She loves you so, and I’m sure she never meant to hurt you.”

  She thought of her mother and Ronaldo staring at each other. Seeing each other after more than twenty years apart. What could they have been feeling, and how hard might it have been?

  As hard as it was right now to have Martin here after so long. Caring, patient—yes, always patient—and kind Martin, willing to forgive her, to give her another chance.

  She wanted that so badly, but she also needed to be honest with her fiancé. She took his hand into both of hers and held it tightly. “I know my mother didn’t mean to hurt me, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope you can believe that.”

  With a quirk of his lips and dip of his head, he said, “I want to believe it, Josephine. I truly do. It hasn’t been easy to forget what happened, and I know we have to rebuild the trust that we once had.”

  She did know, which was why she had to tell him everything that was in her heart. “In the weeks you’ve been gone, I’ve felt so alone. You were always there for me.”

  “And I’m here for you now, Josephine. If there’s anything you want to tell me…”

  “I need you to know that since that night, I haven’t been unfaithful to you, Martin. But Rake and I have come to know each other well. He’s become a close friend, and we have spent some time together. I had to tell you that. I want you to trust me again.”

  He frowned at the mention of Rake, but then simply said, “I want that also, Josephine. So tell me how you are. How are your classes?”

  She smiled that he had remembered, but was also sad at the same time. “Getting a job as a tutor may be hard right now. But I’ve been writing.”

  “In your journal?” He smiled. “You must have dozens of them filled by now.”

  “Well, yes, but”—she took a deep breath before continuing—“stories too. Romantic ones like—”

  He grinned and said excitedly, “I suppose just like Miss Austen. I know she is a favorite of yours.”

  “Yes, just like Miss Austen’s,” she replied and waited expectantly, unsure of what Martin would think about her spending her time so frivolously. He was such a hard worker, and his job was so important and serious.

  “It’s not an easy thing to write a novel, I imagine,” he said, and there was no doubting that his interest was real.

  “No, it’s not easy. It’s taken me a lot of hard work,” she admitted.

  He smiled and nodded. “Well then, it is truly wonderful that you’ve accomplished that, Josephine.”

  “Really?” her heart soared, confidence imbuing her at his encouraging words. “Because I—I think I’d like to be a writer.”

  “Well, I’d say you already are.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief at his support and said, “I just finished a novel and sent it off to some publishers up North.”

  “I am so happy for you, my darling, but why didn’t you tell me before? I hope you know you can confide in me about anything, don’t you?”

  “I guess I was worried that you would say I was setting my hopes too high. That I wasn’t being practical; I was just dreaming.”

  He shook his head and reached out to caress her face. “That’s one of the things I love the most about you.” Martin leaned in and touched his lips to hers, and the minutes fell away as they kissed.

  When they finally broke apart, Martin asked, “How are you feeling? How has it been at work for you?” And for the next hour or so, they chatted about all that had happened in the many weeks since Martin had left for Palm Beach. As the time wore on, the lantern that Josephine had set on the kitchen table grew slowly lower, warning them that it was time for Martin to go.

  “I’ll be by tomorrow, my darling,” he said as they stood together at the door.

  “I’ll be waiting for you,” she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss him.

  And as she did so, the light in the lantern sputtered and blew out for a moment before jumping to life again, brighter and stronger than before. Highlighting the flakes of peeling paint drifting down around them in the warm glow of the light.

  They broke apart, and Josephine noted the big white flakes on Martin’s shoulders. She brushed them away, smiling, as Martin reached up and plucked a fat flake from her hair.

  Martin peered up toward the source of the paint flecks. “We really need to fix that ceiling.”

  Josephine chuckled. “Not ever.”

  Aw, the lovebirds have found their way back to one another at long last! Sniff, sniff. This was truly the most romantic night ever, and maybe, just maybe, the path of true love was finally a smooth one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With his father’s trip to Cuba set to happen the next day, Rake decided that it was time for a family dinner. He’d wish his f
ather a safe trip and also try to pry more information from him on why he was going. Since his stepmother had shared her concerns about his father, he had in turn been worrying that Ernesto might somehow be the Sin Sombra that the Pinkertons were chasing. He wondered if the real reason Ernesto was heading to Cuba was to avoid the Pinkertons breathing down his neck. It had become impossible to rid himself of the fear that stuck with him about his father.

  No matter how difficult their relationship could be at times, he still loved him and cared about his well-being.

  He, Lucia, Sondra, and Ernesto were all gathered around the table in his suite while one of the hotel servants served the first dish of the elegant ten-course meal he’d planned with the hotel chef.

  The servant placed the hors d’oeuvres plate with caviar on brown bread before them. While he disliked caviar, it was one of his father’s favorites.

  “Won’t Penelope be joining us?” Sondra asked, earning a glare from Rake.

  “Penelope is no longer a part of this family,” he said curtly, but he had no sooner said that when the door to the suite burst open and Penelope sauntered in.

  “I heard we were having a family dinner,” she said with a charming smile and walked over to greet everyone except Rake. She shot him a challenging look, as if daring him to toss her out.

  While he had no desire to spend the evening with Penelope, he was too much of a gentleman to make a scene. Especially in front of his father, Sondra, and Lucia.

  “Please, join us,” he said through gritted teeth and gestured to the empty chair beside Lucia, seating her as far away from him as possible.

  Dinner resumed, and Lucia started the conversation again. “This is delicious, Rake. Thank you so much for thinking of having this dinner to wish Father a safe trip.”

  “Yes, thank you, Son,” his father added, although it sounded too reluctant to Rake.

  “My pleasure, Father. So tell us what you plan for your trip,” he said, hoping to draw information out of Ernesto.

  As the servant removed the plates and placed the second course of a beef consommé on the table, Ernesto explained his plan. “Cuba is stabilizing, and Havana and the nearby coastline are only ninety miles away. It’s a perfect time to see if Varadero Beach has the potential for a new Solvino hotel. It’s been too long since we built one.”

  “The Regal Sol is only a few years old,” Rake said, earning a tut-tut from his father.

  “This is your hotel, Rake. And quite frankly, I’m still not convinced that it will prove to be profitable in the long run,” Ernesto said.

  Maybe this dinner was a big mistake, Rake thought but bit his tongue.

  As the vol-au-vents came out, Penelope said, “Actually from what I can see, the Regal Sol has quite a lot of potential. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was profitable soon.”

  The support from his soon-to-be ex-wife was unexpected. He wasn’t sure what game she was playing, but it was nice to have someone else deflect his father’s condemnation.

  It actually restored his hunger and let him enjoy the warm savory pastries, which had two different fillings, a hearty beef and mushroom mix in one and a creamy crab mix in the other.

  “The Regal Sol is quite lovely. I’m sure that in time it will hold its own,” Sondra said, likewise surprising him. Until of course, she added, “It’s just the kind of place to appeal to tourists.”

  Lucia coughed uneasily, drawing his attention. She shared a supportive look with him and said, “Didn’t the Astors stay here a few weeks ago? Mr. Deering, also?”

  “You’re quite right, Lucia. High society seems to think the Regal Sol is just their cup of tea,” Penelope said, shocking him yet again.

  A disbelieving grunt erupted from his father, and the meal went downhill from there despite a lovely offering of courses from the kitchen and a constant stream of support from Penelope and Lucia.

  Cold poached salmon with a rich velouté spiked with herbs.

  Roast beef with farm-fresh green beans.

  A beautifully seared duck breast accompanied by a wine demiglace.

  Wonderfully ripe French cheeses on a fine china serving tray and a hearty port in his best lead crystal came out next.

  And finally, thankfully since he couldn’t wait for the dinner to end, delicate lemon ices that were nowhere as chilly as the silent freeze that had settled over the room.

  When the dessert dishes were cleared away, they almost simultaneously jumped to their feet, obviously intending to forgo the traditional coffee and liqueurs that had been prepared for them in the front parlor of Rake’s suite.

  At the door, Rake hugged his sister warmly and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Lucia.”

  Ernesto was next, and he held out his hand stiffly. “Father. Safe travels.” He hadn’t learned much tonight about what his father was truly doing, but he intended to find out. His father had hired his own captain for the trip on Rake’s yacht, but Rake intended to have some of his own men on the crew to watch what was happening.

  Rumor had it that Sin Sombra was bringing in a huge load of contraband shortly, and if that load was coming in with his father on Rake’s yacht, he intended to know.

  When Sondra came to the door, she shared a knowing look with him, seeming to say that Rake had better keep a close eye on his father.

  Last to leave was Penelope. She strolled to the door slowly, obviously waiting to have her moment alone with him.

  “I should thank you,” he said because she had been in his corner during the meal.

  With a soft laugh and a smile, she said, “Yes, you should. When I heard you were having your family for dinner, I thought I should come. I remembered how difficult it could be with your father and that woman.”

  “Thank you for tonight. Dinner with my family is never easy,” Rake said.

  “Then why put yourself through it?” she asked.

  With a shrug, he opened up to her the way he once had when they were together, explaining to her his concerns about his father. She listened patiently, but then shook her head. “It’s not your father you have to worry about. If I were you, I’d keep an eye on Sondra.”

  “Really?” His stepmother had been notably more pleasant since sharing her concerns about Ernesto with Rake.

  “Trust me, Rake. I know her type, and she’s nothing but trouble. Have you seen the way she’s been kissing up to your sister the last few weeks?”

  Her intuitiveness and concern surprised him. “Well, Lucia and Sondra were schoolmates and have always been close.” Perhaps unusually close, he thought but kept that to himself.

  “I’m telling you. She’s definitely up to something.”

  He smiled at her vehemence, remembering how much he’d liked her staunch confidence in her own opinions once upon a time. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  An awkward silence followed until Penelope said, “Well, it’s late. I should go.”

  “Good night, Penelope. Thank you again for everything.” With a chaste kiss on her cheek, he ushered her out the door, shut it, and leaned back against it, the weight of all that was happening dragging on him. His father. Sin Sombra. Penelope. Josephine.

  Josephine, Josephine, Josephine, he repeated, using it as a mantra that lightened his soul from the darkness that was his family.

  Just this week, she had started to show and he wished he could lay his hands on her belly and feel the child. His child. A miracle. Since the doctors had told him years earlier that he was likely sterile, he had given up hope of having children and put all his energies into the Regal Sol and proving to his father that he had what it took to run the Solvino business empire.

  Tonight had been enlightening in many ways. He could always count on Lucia’s support, but Penelope’s defense had been surprising. It had also helped him to realize that his father was impossible to please, and so he was done trying to please him. With that decision, something freed up inside him and he knew it was time to focus on more important ventures.

  He had something he
had never thought he would have: a child. And then there was Josephine. A wonderful and amazing woman.

  It was time to grow and build the life he’d already created for himself here in Miami. Time to make the hotel profitable, put an end to his less scrupulous enterprises, and stop worrying about his father’s approval.

  But what if his father was involved in illegal activities once again, or worse. What if Ernesto was the deadly and dangerous Sin Sombra?

  Well, he had his family to protect. If Ernesto was the crime boss, Rake would do whatever it took to keep the Regal Sol and Josephine safe from Sin Sombra.

  In the lavish suite that Ronaldo had politely demanded, Josephine sat across from the entertainer—her father—as he ate the steak and eggs breakfast he’d likewise courteously demanded.

  She nibbled on some dry toast and sipped the tea that seemed to be the best protection against the morning sickness that still plagued her well into her fourth month of pregnancy.

  “Please tell me about yourself, Josephine,” he asked, which surprised her since for the last half an hour, he’d talked about nothing but himself and the many shows and cities he’d visited since leaving Zara twenty-some-odd years earlier.

  “Well, I work here at the hotel,” she said.

  “Obviously,” he said with a dramatic circle of his knife.

  “I’ve finished some correspondence classes, and Sister Elizabeth was attempting to secure me a position as a tutor with a nice family only…”

  She hesitated, not sure just what to tell her father about her life. A life he had not been a part of ever. But at his theatrically raised brow, she pressed forward.

  “That’s proved impossible since I’m with child.”

  Ronaldo stopped chewing and eyed her carefully. “I wasn’t sure.”

  She rose and held her skirts tight to herself to mold the fabric to her rapidly growing belly. “You weren’t sure?” she asked, dubious.

  With a dramatic flare of his hand, he said, “A gentleman such as myself would never assume that or make a woman feel that she might be, well…looking particularly plump, should we say? Not that you are, by the way. You look quite ravishing, brimming with the glow of new life, like a finely sculpted Madonna one might find on a golden pedestal in the pope’s grandest basilica.”