Master of El Corazon

by Sandra Marton

Arden blinked. ‘Your cousin?’

  ‘Señorita Miller, please believe me when I say I have no wish to embarrass you, but...’ The boy caught his lip between his teeth. ‘But we hear things,’ he said, rushing the words together. ‘It is said that you—ah—that you had a falling-out with Senor Lithgow and that is why you no longer work for his company.’

  She blew out her breath. ‘Well, that’s one way to put it.’

  ‘It is said, as well, that—that you need money. And—and—’

  Her eyes focused on the boy’s reddening face ‘And?’

  ‘And that is where my cousin enters the picture.’

  Arden shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well—well, Pablo knows of this difficulty of yours, señorita. And he would like the chance to offer you a proposition.’

  Her expression hardened. ‘Would he?’ she said in a flat voice.

  ‘Oh, yes, absolutely. Pablo lives an hour’s drive from here, in a very big house. A mansion, you would say.’ The boy’s face lit. ‘It is beautiful there. There is a pool to swim in, and horses to ride—oh, there are all manner of beautiful things to enjoy. And Pablo says you are the perfect woman for him.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Alejandro was not impervious to the growing frigidity in Arden’s face and voice.

  ‘I told him that such an offer might embarrass you,’ he said with obvious discomfort, ‘but he was determined I speak on his behalf.’

  ‘Yes, I can just imagine.’ Arden slapped her hands on her hips. ‘Well, you can just tell Pablo that I’m not interested. The damned nerve of him—and of you, Alejandro! How could you make such a proposal to me?’

  The boy’s face fell. ‘Si,’ he whispered miserably. ‘I told him you would say this. “Pablo,” I said, “the señorita is a secretary, she is not a—”’

  ‘That’s right,’ Arden said with feeling. ‘I’m a secretary, although lately everyone else seems to think I’m—’

  ‘—she is not a nurse. “But she does not need to be a nurse,” Pablo said. “Old man Romero already has one of those,” he said, and it is true. What the old man needs is a companion, someone who will read to him and talk with him, someone who is a gringa because no tica has ever been able to stand up to his temper—’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Arden said quickly. ‘What are you talking about? What old man?’

  ‘Never mind, señorita. Forgive me for having been so impertinent.’

  Arden reached out and caught hold of the boy’s arm as he began to turn away.

  ‘Alejandro, please, tell me what this is all about. Is this—is your cousin—’

  ‘Pablo,’ he said helpfully.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, Pablo. Is he offering me a job as his companion?’

  ‘Pablo?’ he said with a giggle. ‘No, certainly not. My cousin is the chauffeur to Señor Romero, señorita.’

  ‘He’s making the offer for Señor Romero, you mean?’

  ‘Sí. The old man has many servants but only Linda to keep him company, and—’

  ‘inda?’ Arden repeated. She was growing more baffled by the minute. Would she ever be able to sort this out?

  ‘The stepdaughter of Señor Romero.’ Alejandro made. a face. ‘You will not like her, I think. But El Corazon—’

  ‘El Corazon,’ Arden said numbly, as she sank down on to the edge of a chair.

  ‘The Romero finca. It is the place I told you of earlier. Pablo says to tell you that you would have your own room and bath.’ His voice fell to a whisper. ‘You could ask to be paid many colones, Pablo says, because no one else will deal with the old man. He is—how do you say—difficult.’

  She sat staring at the boy. A job as a paid companion, she thought, and a lump rose into her throat. A job as a servant, that was what it was, a job she’d been destined for all her life, the same as her mother and half the female population in Greenfield...

  ‘Señorita?’

  Arden swallowed hard. Alejandro was watching her with barely concealed eagerness. As far as he was concerned, he’d just offered her the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Well, if it wasn’t that, it was, at least, a way to earn enough money to get her home. Did you need a work permit for a job like this? She didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to ask. That was Senor Romero’s problem, not hers.

  Still, the thought of it made her flinch. How could she dance attendance on the rich, when the thought of it made her skin crawl?

  How can you sit here and wait to be thrown out into the street? a voice inside her asked with cold precision.

  ‘Señorita? If you are not interested—’

  ‘But I am.’ Arden took a deep breath. ‘Tell your cousin I’d—I’d be happy if he could get me an interview.’

  The boy grinned as he snatched up the tray. ‘I will tell him to make the arrangements.’

  She closed the door after him, then sank back against it. Suddenly, she thought again of the man she’d met in the lift, of the things he’d accused her of. What would he say if he knew she was going to take a job as servant to this Señor Romero?

  A bitter smile touched her lips. He’d never believe it.

  But then again, neither did she.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  PABLO drove her to her interview with Felix Romero in an ancient, brilliantly polished Cadillac limousine. There would be, he warned, three separate interviews to endure, although only one would take place today.

  ‘Señorita Linda is away, but when she returns she will insist on questioning you, too,’ he said as they bounced over a dusty dirt road, ‘even though the decision of your employment is not actually hers to make. Whether or not you get the job is up to Senor Romero—and to Señor Conor, of course.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Señor Conor Martinez.’ Pablo looked into the rearview mirror. ‘He is—how would say?—he is the true master of El Corazon.’

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Someone had to take charge when Señor Romero’s health began to fail.’

  Arden sank back against the seat. ‘Alejandro never mentioned any of this,’ she said glumly. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me this Senor Martinez is as difficult as Senor Romero.’

  ‘Some would say he is even more so,’ Pablo admitted after a pause. His eyes met Arden’s in the mirror. ‘Senor Conor is of the old school. He demands obedience and perfection.’

  Arden could see him in her mind’s eye, a tall, white-haired Spaniard, his face marked by age and discipline, until suddenly another image swept that one aside, that of a tall, handsome man with green eyes, an unsmiling mouth, and the certain belief that he could never be wrong.

  ‘You mean,’ she said, her words touched with bitterness, ‘he sets himself up as judge, jury, and executioner.’

  The chauffeur chuckled. ‘An interesting description, sefiorita.’

  And, without question, an accurate one. Arden closed her eyes. Wonderful. Just wonderful. She was about to sign on for a job that would make her a servant, answerable to not one man but two, a pair of elderly Spanish grandees who had no idea the world was moving swiftly into the twenty-first century.

  Why had she let Alejandro talk her into this? Anything would be better than—

  ‘We are arrived, señorita.’

  Arden opened her eyes and sat forward just as a pair of massive iron gates swung open to an electronic signal. The Cadillac slowed and began moving up the long driveway, and a little shudder went through her.

  Alejandro had described El Corazon as magnificent; it was a word she’d heard often from her mother while she was growing up.

  ‘I’m going to be working for the Baileys,’ Evelyn would say, and then she’d sigh dramatically. ‘Their house is just magnificent!’

  After a while, Arden had known what ‘magnificent’ meant. It was a synonym for grandiose and overdone, a way of saying that a house was far too big to be a home, had cost more money than anything should, and would surely impress the life out of anyo
ne who saw it.

  But none of that described El Corazon.

  She leaned forward and stared out the window. El Corazon—The Heart—had seemed a romantic name, but this house was hardly romantic. Seen from a distance, it was large and imposing, larger, probably, than any of Greenfield’s pricey mansions. A flower-banked path bisected a wide lawn that looked as if it were carpeted with dark green velvet; it led to wide white steps and a porch whose graceful colonnades drew the eye upward to the house itself with its black trim and Spanish tile roof.

  Arden sank back in her seat. What was she doing here? It was too late to tell Pablo to turn the car around, she would have to go through with the first interview, but at its conclusion she would politely thank Felix Romero for his time, then ask Pablo to drive her back to the city. And then she’d swallow what little was left of her pride, go to the Embassy, and beg for help.

  Anything would be better than going to work as a servant in a house like this.

  Romero was waiting for her in the library. He was a wizened old man with a full mane of white hair, gnarled hands that were tightly clasped around the ivory head of a walking stick despite the fact that he was seated in a wheelchair, and an expression sour enough to make a lemon seem sweet. After a brief few questions, he fixed Arden with a rheumy stare.

  ‘I am told that I am not an easy man to work for,’ he said brusquely. ‘I have a short temper, and I do not suffer fools lightly.’

  Arden thought of telling him it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t take this job if he offered it to her, but she decided to be polite.

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ she said pleasantly.

  ‘If I ask you to work for me, I will expect you to rise early, to keep abreast of world affairs so we may discuss them, and to choose your companions wisely.’

  ‘If I were to decide to work for you, I would rise early because I have always done so, I would discuss with you whatever topics the both of us agreed were of interest, and I would choose my companions by my own standards, which I assure you are every bit as stringent as yours.’

  She waited for him to respond, aware that she would never have answered with such arrogance if she hadn’t already decided she didn’t want this job. Felix Romero’s mouth twitched. It took a moment until Arden realised it was as close to a smile as he would offer.

  ‘It may be that you will work out,’ he said.

  Arden stared at him in surprise. ‘Does that mean you’re offering me a job?’

  ‘Tell Pablo to go to San José and collect your things. I will give this a try.’

  He would give it a try? She lifted her chin.

  ‘Perhaps you should ask me if I will give it a try,’ she said.

  Romero’s mouth twitched again. ‘What if I suggested we both do so, Miss Miller?’

  Arden hesitated. Why not? It would be just as easy to quit tomorrow as to walk off today. After a moment, she held out her hand.

  ‘That’s acceptable, señor.’

  Romero looked at her outstretched hand, then took it into his own. His eyes met hers and he nodded.

  ‘Done,’ he said brusquely.

  After a few weeks, Arden was glad she’d agreed to Romero’s proposal. To her surprise, the job was working out much better than she’d dreamed it could. The old man had a sharp, analytical mind and he enjoyed exercising it; sometimes, Arden thought he deliberately played devil’s advocate just to encourage discussion and philosophical argument. He had an extraordinary orchid collection and when Arden expressed an interest in it he was more than eager to teach her the names and idiosyncrasies of the various flowers.

  And, perhaps most importantly, he never treated her like a servant. Her room was not in the servants’ wing but in the main part of the house, and he insisted she take her meals at his table. She knew it was childish that these things should matter to her, but they did.

  Still, Felix Romero wasn’t an easy man to like. Despite his keen intellect, there was a coldness to Felix Romero as well as a streak of stubborn pride that kept his attitude as rigid as his spine. And he complained long and often about his stepdaughter and Conor Martinez.

  ‘The two of them will be here soon, and you will see for yourself what sort they are,’ he said stonily one morning, as he and Arden sat in the library.

  ‘I’m sure they’re very nice,’ Arden said.

  The old man thumped his cane on the floor. ‘Do not patronise me,’ he said sharply. ‘I don’t like it!’

  Arden sighed. ‘I’m only suggesting that—’

  ‘You are wrong, I assure you. Linda cares only for herself. She never spends time here, if she can help it.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s difficult for a young girl to live in such a remote location.’

  ‘As for Conor,’ Felix said, ignoring her comment, ‘his sole concern is to usurp as much of my power as he can.’

  Arden put down the newspaper she’d been reading to him. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You will say it, too, Miss Miller, after you have observed how he behaves.’ Felix frowned. ‘Of course, he claims he is merely trying to ease the burden of running this finca from my shoulders.’

  ‘Isn’t that possible?’

  Romero laughed. ‘When you reach my age, you know that anything is possible. But my nephew—’

  ‘Your nephew?’ Arden frowned. ‘I thought—I assumed he was an older man.’

  ‘He is old enough to wish to wrest El Corazon from me,’ Felix said brusquely. ‘He is not an altruist, Miss Miller. I assure you, once you’ve met him, you will agree.’

  Arden pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘Well,’ she said pleasantly, ‘I’m looking forward to meeting both Senor Martinez and Linda:

  The old man smiled archly. ‘They won’t like you:

  She stared at him in surprise. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Linda will not care for sharing the house with a woman more attractive than she could ever hope to be. As for Conor—Conor will be distrustful of anyone who might come between him and his goal.’ His brows rose. ‘Conor will surely dismiss you.’

  Arden’s spirits sagged. Was she going to lose this job after such a short time?

  ‘And will you let him?’ she asked quickly.

  Felix chuckled. ‘I hired you, Miss Miller. On my finca, my word is absolute.’

  ‘I hope so, señor. Working here means a great deal to me.’

  ‘Not to worry.’ Felix leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘Now, go and find out what’s happened to the coffee I asked for an hour ago.’

  Arden bit her lip as she stepped into the hall and closed the library door after her. That would be the final straw, she thought unhappily, if she were to lose this position because of a selfish stepdaughter and a grasping nephew...

  ‘Brava,’ a woman’s voice said.

  Arden spun around. No, she thought, it wasn’t a woman, not really. It was a girl, perhaps nineteen or twenty years of age, tall and beautiful, with a look of haughty insolence in her dark eyes, and she knew without question that this had to be Felix’s stepdaughter, Linda Vasquez.

  ‘It is a brilliant strategy, señorita, speaking up to my stepfather as if you were his equal, then throwing yourself on his mercy and reminding him that you are merely a woman and dependent on his indulgence. No tica maid would ever have thought of such a thing.’

  Arden flushed but forced a smile to her lips. ‘I’m not a maid, señorita, I’m Arden Miller, the señor’s new companion.’ She held out her hand. ‘And you must be Linda.’

  The woman smiled, too, showing even white teeth set against tawny skin. ‘I am Senorita Vasquez,’ she said, ignoring Arden’s outstretched hand, ‘and I suggest you pack your things while Pablo prepares the car to take you back to San José.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I am in charge of the hiring at El Corazon and you do not suit my needs.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to discuss this with your stepfather first,’ Arden said as calmly as she could. ‘I think you’ll find he�
��s quite happy with me, and—’

  ‘You are wasting my time, Miss Miller. My stepfather is not himself and everyone knows it. As for me, I want you out of here immediately.’

  The woman’s rudeness shattered Arden’s attempted civility.

  ‘Since you were eavesdropping,’ she said coldly, ‘you know what your stepfather said. He hired me. If I’m going to be fired, it will be by him.’

  Linda laughed. ‘How quick you are to bare your claws. I wonder, what makes you so ready to do that?’

  ‘I told you, your stepfather—’

  ‘Is it the money? Are you so brave and determined because you have heard the rumours, that my stepfather is rich and no longer quite as in command of his faculties as he once was?’

  Arden’s eyes met Linda’s. ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘I have phoned here every evening since you arrived, and each time my stepfather has told me of your beauty and your charm, of your wit and intelligence.’ Linda’s smile faded and her eyes turned to black ice. ‘If you think I will permit a scheming gringa to usurp my position here—’

  ‘I have absolutely no intention of usurping—’

  ‘You may have fooled my stepfather, but you cannot fool me, and you most assuredly will not fool Senor Martinez. He will see straight through you!’

  Two crimson circles appeared in Arden’s cheeks. ‘Señor Martinez will see nothing!’

  ‘That’s enough!’

  The voice was male and very harsh, and it brought a flash of satisfaction to Linda Vasquez’s face.

  ‘Thank you, Conor,’ she said. ‘I am weary of dealing with this woman myself.’

  Arden spun around, words of anger on her lips, words that died before she spoke them. Her heart thumped into her throat. No, she told herself, no, it just wasn’t possible.

  But there he was, backlit by the sun so that he seemed to have been forged in fire, his hands on his hips, his posture intransigent, and the contempt in his voice so familiar that she knew that this encounter would not be any different than the last.

  ‘You!’ she breathed, and she stumbled back against the wall.

  The drifter who’d helped Edgar Lithgow snatch away everything she’d worked so hard to attain wasn’t a drifter at all.