When Catarina brought the tray to the kitchen, Dona Madalena turned from the sink and smiled wide at her. “Did you see it? What do you think?”
Catarina sat down on the closest chair. “Do you mean the swing? Did Afonso get it?”
“He didn’t get it. He made it. With my Francisco’s help.” She rinsed a small pot. “But Senhor Afonso did all the work, looking for the best wood, finding out which kind of rope wouldn’t give splinters. You should have seen the planning he did. And today he got up at sunrise to hang it from the tree. He took his time with that. And then he called me to make sure it was level and swung straight, but I told him the person who the swing is for should be the first one to ride it.”
“You’re saying he made the swing himself?” Catarina asked.
Dona Madalena wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “That he did. Did you go try it out yet?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He put so much work into it. It’ll be a shame if you don’t.”
“I’ll go later, when the sun is lower.” She wasn’t ready to see the swing or Afonso. “When is he coming for lunch?”
“He came by for a quick sandwich only. My Francisco stayed for a full lunch, but I couldn’t convince Senhor Afonso to sit at the table. He said he was too busy.”
He was too busy to sit for lunch, but he’d spent hours making her a swing. Catarina tried to understand his motivations. Juan-Carlos had always wanted something in return when he did something for her.
The Silvas and Catarina were in the middle of dinner when Afonso came in through the service door.
He poked his head in the kitchen. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m going to take a shower and get some laundry done.”
He’d started keeping a change of clothes in the laundry room, most likely to avoid being seen wearing a towel and nothing else. Probably for the best, even if Catarina had enjoyed the view that one time. She chastised herself and shook the mental picture. With her luck, it would come back to haunt her dreams again.
When dinner was done, Dona Madalena dragged Catarina to the front of the house and out the main door. “Come on, Menina Catarina. I want to see you try that swing before we leave tonight.” The Silvas returned to the caretaker house every night, a ten minute walk to the east side of the property.
She’d been battling curiosity all day, telling herself she didn’t want to see the swing.
But she did. Nobody had ever made her anything, not since second grade when Avô António had made wooden toys for all the grandchildren for Christmas. Juan-Carlos had preferred the convenience of what money could buy. There had been many expensive gifts over their married years, but not anything that he’d put more effort into than handing over his credit card. There she was, throwing comparisons again.
Dona Madalena and Catarina arrived at the tree, and Catarina stopped to admire the swing. It had been sanded smooth and varnished to a polished coat, enhancing the color of the veins in the wood.
“It’s chestnut,” Dona Madalena said. “He found it on the west side.”
Catarina touched the seat. “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t buy the wood. He found a felled tree, and he had it cut in the village. Then he spent a week sanding it by hand into the perfect shape.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Senhor Afonso asked my Francisco for help.”
The rope had been encased in transparent tubing, a good way to avoid splinters.
“Have a seat already.” Dona Madalena propelled Catarina closer.
Catarina sat down, and her hands wound around the rope. It surprised her how wide the seat was, comfortable and deep. She wouldn’t be slipping off this one.
How many years had it been since she’d been on a swing? Probably the summer when she was sixteen. She’d sneaked a few times when the older cousins weren’t looking and the younger ones were too busy with something else. In her seventeenth summer she’d gone to the Algarve with some friends to work there, and a year later she’d married Juan-Carlos a week after turning eighteen.
If only she could go back and undo some of the bad decisions she’d made. If only it were that simple.
After Dona Madalena left with her husband, Catarina stayed on the swing, pushing her foot against the ground, back and forth, back and forth. The gentle rhythm soothed her, and as the bright sun faded into pink ribbons against the sky, Catarina let go of her worries, if only for tonight.
She placed a hand on her belly. “It’s you and me, baby. Just you and me.”
When she heard the front door open and close, she didn’t have to turn to know it was Afonso. Maybe it was time she stopped running from him.
Afonso leaned against the tree a few paces away from her, watching the sunset. “I hoped you’d like it,” he said softly.
Catarina slowed down but didn’t stop the swinging. “I like it. Obrigada.” She met his eyes and gave him a slow smile.
His hair was still wet from the shower, and he’d changed into the jeans that looked too good on him and the soft-from-wear blue T-shirt that brought out his chocolate eyes.
“De nada.” He bent down and plucked a blade of grass between his fingers. “That was one of the few things you’ve shared about yourself.”
She’d barely shared anything personal, and he’d remembered. “I just don’t understand why you did it.”
“Can’t friends do things for each other?”
Catarina almost paused the swinging but kept going, not wanting to change anything in the moment around them.
A friend. Afonso Cortez called himself her friend. Catarina’s chest filled with a strange emotion, and she wanted to close her eyes and peer at the feeling more closely. But doing so would call Afonso’s attention to her, and he was already watching her so attentively.
He locked his eyes on her. “I’m sorry for the way I handled the situation at Sete Fontes.” He passed a hand through his hair, as she’d noticed him doing when he was nervous and frustrated. “I freaked out when we were forced off the road. Not for myself, but for putting you in danger.” He looked away and then back at her. “I don’t know what she wants or why she’s come back, but I can’t stand that you were caught in it.”
Catarina stopped pushing her foot and turned to Afonso. “Who is she?”
*
“Her name is Anabela Rialto. She’s the one who sabotaged the Princess Catarina, putting everyone’s lives in danger.” Afonso scoffed. “And I protected her by not telling anyone what she was doing.”
After the sun went down, they moved to the library. Catarina sat on the leather sofa, and Afonso took the chair closest to it. Did she think he was the dumbest man alive? He already knew he was, but he cared about her opinion, and he fiercely wished she could see how much he regretted his past, how willing he was to change his future.
“Why did she do it?”
He shrugged. “She lied to me, so who knows?” Anabela had lied to everybody. “I’m sure she had her motivations and, in her mind, she probably thought she was justified, but her gross disregard for safety and physical property prove she only cared for herself.”
“Were there any injuries?” Catarina’s expression showed interest and concern, not disgust, and Afonso’s hope rose a notch that she wouldn’t think ill of him.
“Only minor ones, thank goodness, but the repair costs totaled thousands of euros.” His indictment had included a report of the damage.
“And you think she was the one who pushed us off the road?”
“A man was driving, but she was the passenger.” His jaw clenched at the memory.
“Has she tried to contact you?” Catarina settled against the corner and crisscrossed her legs. “What do you think she wants?” Her expression was open and her eyes laden with concern, encouraging him to go on.
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck where a tension knot had taken up residence in the past few weeks. “I did get a text that same afternoon when we were in Castelo B
ranco that could have been from her, but I have since bought a new phone and changed service providers so that won’t be happening again.” If Anabela wanted to talk to him, she’d have to do it in person.
“I shouldn’t have forced you to go to the police station without telling you my plans. But I wanted to remember all the details and get a report out since there’s a warrant for her arrest.” He let out a long breath. “It still doesn’t excuse the way I dismissed you. I’m sorry.”
He remembered the frustration as well. For a week after the accident, he’d been in close contact with Matias and Filipe, reporting back to them after his patrols on the perimeter while trying to keep the regular schedule. Despite being on alert, he hadn’t seen anyone or anything unusual. He drove to the village every other day, and even once to Castelo Branco to pick up more supplies, but he hadn’t seen Anabela again, nor the vehicle. As a precaution, Afonso had ordered digital security cameras that he could check remotely on his phone and tablet, and after picking them up in Castelo Branco, he’d spent two early mornings installing them around the exterior of the manor before Catarina got up for the day.
Catarina had kept to her bedroom during that week and only came to the kitchen when the Silvas were present as well. Had that kiss meant anything to her? He couldn’t get it out of his mind. After unsuccessful attempts to talk to her, Afonso started planning the swing. At least it partially worked—she was asking him questions.
Maybe he could try asking her one too. “Why can’t you be seen in public?”
Catarina winced and turned her face away from him.
If she had a hard time trusting him, how was he supposed to protect her? “Do you believe I’d bring any harm to you, Catarina?”
She sighed heavily. “No, of course not.”
He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. After a long minute, he added, “You know where to find me when you’re ready.” He rose from the chair. He didn’t like forcing her to talk to him, but how else would he find out what she needed?
Talking to Catarina was useless, especially when she didn’t say anything. What he needed was work. He should have started pruning the rosebushes weeks ago. A pair of pruning shears would do the job.
“Afonso, wait.” She followed him. “I came to Sunset Manor to hide,” she started.
He had guessed as much. Afonso took a seat on the sofa and waited.
Catarina joined him. “There was—there was a scandal surrounding my husband’s death.” She drew her knees up and looked at her toes for a moment.
She wore a summer dress, something flowy and suncolored, with spaghetti straps that wouldn’t stay put. Afonso’s hand itched to bring the thin band to its rightful place and brush his fingertips across her skin. The extra weight looked good on her, had filled some of her curves, and he longed to have her in his arms again. Kissing her once had not been enough.
“The paparazzi hounded me.” Her mouth formed a thin line. “It got really bad. Filipe saw it on the news and came for me, brought me here. The media thinks I’m in Spain, and I’d rather nobody finds out my location.”
The questions came to Afonso one after another, but voicing them would only make her raise the barrier she hid behind. He settled for one question. “Why don’t you want your family to know you’re here?”
Her shoulders dropped, and her spine bowed. “I broke my ties with them when I left.” Catarina’s voice lowered. “I met Juan-Carlos when I went to Spain with a friend after we graduated from high school. My friend and I were supposed to work for the summer and start college in September, but when Juan-Carlos proposed, I didn’t care about any of that anymore. When I called my parents and told them, they said I should come home. Instead I eloped.” She sighed, her eyes still down. “I made so many mistakes. It’s better if they don’t know where I am.”
He didn’t agree with her decision, but it wasn’t his place to say anything on the subject. Her confessions were vague but the most she’d told him about her situation. It was a start. “I repeat what I said, Catarina. You can trust me.”
The corners of her mouth raised in a smile, but it didn’t extend to her eyes. “Obrigada, Afonso.”
“I’ve noticed you like to stick to the manor.”
She ducked with a sheepish look in her eyes. “I guess I’m a bit paranoid, but I can’t risk being seen. I just want a chance at a clean start. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, it’s not.”
That was what he wanted too. Maybe she wasn’t as hard to understand as he’d thought.
He cleared his throat. “Are we going to pretend we didn’t kiss?”
“Is there any point in talking about it?” She traced the pattern on the blanket draped over the armrest. Her cheeks flushed, and she kept her eyes down as if it were the most interesting thing she’d seen all day.
She couldn’t even face him. Regret surfaced inside him again. “I want to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was wrong of me.” He shouldn’t have brought it up either.
Catarina looked up at him. “Wrong? What do you mean?” Her eyes flashed at him, dark with an emotion he couldn’t decipher.
This time he was the one who couldn’t look at her, for the shame he felt. “Your husband hasn’t been dead for too long, and I’m sure you miss him a lot. You have more to think about than me forcing a kiss on you.” It had been a heck of a kiss and as much as he’d like a repeat, he’d do well to stay away from her and forget the attraction. She needed the time to move on, and she’d have as much time as she needed. He wouldn’t be interfering with it.
Catarina put a hand up. “Stop, Afonso. Just stop. You’re assuming too much about me, and that never ends well. I—” She sighed. “I really don’t want us to fight.” The weariness in her voice cut him.
How much was he assuming of her? The questions came, but he swallowed them. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t meant to be.
Afonso poked his head in the kitchen and looked around. Dona Madalena stood at the stove and smiled when she saw him. “If you’re looking for Menina Catarina, she’s in the library.”
Afonso carried the roses to the sink. “Good. It’ll give me time to get these ready.” He opened the cabinet doors nearby. “Do you know if there are any vases in the house?”
“I don’t think we have any, but there are some glass jars and glasses that might work.” She opened another cabinet door to show him.
“Perfect. Obrigado, Dona Madalena.”
The roses from the garden didn’t have the long stems of store-bought roses. Instead, he’d strip the leaves and place them in small bunches in the short glasses, in the same style of what he’d seen in the dining room of the Princess Catarina. He picked three tumblers and brought them to the sink.
While Dona Madalena finished the preparation for the weekend meals, Afonso worked on the flowers, removing the thorns and leaves and grouping the roses in assorted colors. When he was done, he had enough flowers to arrange in three glasses.
He took one and carried it to the library. He pushed the door open and called her name. “Catarina?”
“In here.”
She sat on a chair behind the door, exactly situated in the corner of the room, with the sketch pad and the pencils on her lap.
Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she wore the green tunic that made her eyes pop. The tension between him and Catarina had lightened after last evening’s conversation. Maybe not everything was resolved, but the way she’d opened up to him had forged a tentative trust between them.
His lips parted, and he took a step toward her. “The first roses from the rose garden.” He held up the vase. “Well, not the first ones that bloomed, but the first ones I picked.” Now that he’d pruned and fertilized the rose garden, the roses would come in better quality.
Catarina’s face lit. She placed the pad and pencils on the chair and rose to meet him, then took the vase in her hands. “They’re so pretty.” She brought the flowers up and inhaled. “And so
fragrant. Obrigada.”
“You’re welcome.” He had to distract himself before he leaned in and kissed her. “How’s the sketching doing?”
She picked up the pad and angled it his way. “I took the measurements, and I’m working on the room’s perspective from each corner. It’s only a rough draft.”
She’d drawn the library from the open door looking in. Filipe’s desk and the leather sofa and chairs were rearranged differently and the bookcase displayed rows of books.
He looked up and gestured at the bookcase. “Filipe mentioned the books were in storage. Maybe we should find out where and get them in here.”
Her eyes widened. “Would you ask him? That would help make the room so much cozier and lived-in.” She paused for a moment. “I took your advice. I called Filipe and asked him if I can sketch the rooms and show him a decorating proposal, and he said yes.”
As much as he wanted to hug her, Afonso raised his palm for a high five. “That’s great, Catarina. This house has been empty and naked long enough.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Have you been talking to Filipe? That’s exactly what he said.”
Afonso smiled. “What else do you have planned for this room? Do you go to furniture stores for ideas?”
“Sometimes I look at magazines or online, and other times I find a piece and know it will work out for what the space needs. But this is the first time where I’m actually starting from scratch and on such a scale. I worked with Tia Antónia and sketched individual rooms, but this—” She turned around and encompassed the room with her arms. “This is epic. I’m really excited about the music room and turning the piano into a focal point.”
“That piano needs a lot of work.” The old piano was a relic, probably dating back to the last century.
“Do you think a piano tuner would be able to fix the sound?”
“Unless it’s missing keys or the damage is more extensive than it appears, a good piano tuner could take care of the adjustments to make it sound well again. The wood casing needs some attention too.”
“You mean the wood parts on the outside of it? What kind of attention?”
Love Me At Sunset (Destined for Love: Mansions) Page 9