Love Me At Sunset (Destined for Love: Mansions)

by Lucinda Whitney

  “A new coat of polish for sure. I haven’t taken a serious look to see if it needs sanding and filling in the small cracks with putty. It’s a great piece, notwithstanding its age. I actually like playing old pianos. The aged wood gives a different sound. And I don’t mean the off-key kind.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re taking this on.”

  The smile on her face widened, and Afonso found himself grinning back, caught up in her enthusiasm. “It looks good on you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What does?”

  “Joy. Happiness. Whatever you want to call it. You just look happier in the past few weeks, and it’s a good change.”

  Her lips parted in a breath, and she watched him. “You always say the nicest things to me.”

  His chest warmed, and the need to take her in his arms came at him out of nowhere. Afonso slipped his hands in his pockets and stepped away, not trusting himself. “I need to finish a few more things before I call it a day. I’ll see you later.”

  He turned to the door, but she called after him. “I have a favor to ask. The Silvas are giving me a ride to Castelo Branco after lunch on Friday, but I’ll need a ride back later in the afternoon.”

  “Sure. Just send me a text.”

  She thanked him but didn’t move. “This is embarrassing to admit, but I never learned how to drive.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of. Things happen. And you can take driving lessons anytime.”

  “I need someone to drive me,” she said quickly, her cheeks turning red. “I joined a group on Facebook that posts about antique sales and flea markets in the area.”

  Catarina needed a driver. That’s where she was going with her confession. “If you can wait until next Saturday, I can drive you into town. We’ll make a day of it. Will that work?”

  She nodded. “That would be great. Obrigada.”

  Was it possible that her smile could affect him even more than before?

  After another awkward moment, Afonso said goodbye and walked to the kitchen.

  He’d just offered to spend more time with Catarina.

  Oh, sweet torture.

  *

  After using lined paper and a school pencil, Catarina couldn’t get enough of the sketch pad and professional pencils. Afonso’s thoughtful gift was as wonderful as the man himself, and she couldn’t help a smile every time she caught details on the paper.

  Guilt pinched at her for a moment. When Afonso had talked to her, she’d purposefully let him believe he was right in his assumption that she needed the time to mourn. In his words, she missed her husband.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  It weighed on her. The subterfuge. The lies. The carefully hidden half-truths. What would Afonso say if he knew all the facts?

  She brushed the thought aside and concentrated on the paper on her lap and the pencil in her hand. The clean, straight lines of the rectangular dining room with its tall, even windows and lofty ceilings afforded her the perfect perspective as she got more familiar with each space at Sunset Manor. Online, she curated furniture pieces onto virtual pinboards, where she could pretend to have a budget and access to everything she needed. It would come soon. She was confident Filipe would agree to her proposal.

  The drawing and design classes she’d taken in high school hadn’t been enough. After pestering Tia Antónia for weeks, her aunt had finally relented in taking Catarina as a sort of apprentice in her interior decorating workshop. Catarina had also watched shows on the Home Decorating Network and even though she’d lacked the funds for decoration projects, she’d rearranged the furniture in her family’s apartment, much to her brothers’ irritation.

  After marrying Juan-Carlos, Catarina had given up her dreams of going to interior design school. Another regret in her life. How hard would it be to enroll in college in Castelo Branco? Would she even be able to attend part-time? She’d need a job to support herself and her baby. Whatever money was left from Juan-Carlos’ investments, if there was any at all, would be tied in legal proceedings for years.

  The ride to Castelo Branco with the Silvas seemed longer than usual. Dona Madalena chatted the whole time, excited to meet with one of their sons and grandchildren. They dropped her off downtown, and Catarina walked to the imaging center, her anxiety building with each step she took.

  When the technician called her, Catarina hurried from her seat in the corner. Her heart beat with nerves and excitement, her emotions split and swirling, her body cold and hot.

  “Catarina, my name is Fernanda.” The technician guided Catarina to the exam table in a semidark room. “You’re here for your twenty-week ultrasound, is that right?”

  Catarina nodded as she reclined, her hands balled at her sides.

  “Can you please verify your full name and birth date?”

  Catarina recited the information.

  When the technician’s hand touched Catarina’s arm, Catarina startled.

  “Are you a little nervous?” Fernanda rubbed Catarina’s arm and smiled. “Let’s get started and take a look at your baby.”

  The technician reached for two small sheets, and Catarina pulled up her tunic to expose her belly.

  “Look at the cute little bump you got there,” Fernanda said as she tucked the sheets around the top and the bottom of Catarina’s belly.

  The technician dispensed some lubricant onto Catarina’s skin and followed with the ultrasound wand. Catarina craned her neck to look at the screen, trying to decipher the images as they formed.

  “This is the head, and this is your baby’s spine.” Fernanda explained.

  As the dark images started to make sense for Catarina, warmth radiated from her chest, the emotion swelling and expanding until lightness replaced the former worry. She swallowed, letting a small tear run down the side of her face, exhaling the tension from her body.

  There was a baby inside her—a little person with a little body, formed perfectly and already moving around.

  She’d waited so many years for Juan-Carlos to agree to a baby. Every year, her yearning had grown stronger, and every year he said no, never changing his mind. When she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t know how to react, what to think. Other than confusion and uncertainty, and myriad feelings she’d tried to ignore for too long—she hadn’t been prepared for the love that filled her heart, the wave of love that coursed through her. A smile stretched her mouth.

  “Look, your baby stuck his thumb in his mouth,” Fernanda said.

  Catarina smiled. “Is it a boy?’

  “Just a manner of speech. I didn’t look yet. Do you want to know the baby’s gender?”

  Catarina stuttered. “Uh—I don’t know.” She hadn’t even thought about it. “I think I’ll wait to find out.” She wasn’t ready to find out the gender. Maybe she’d wait until the birth.

  The technician kept a running commentary, taking measurements and recording them. At the end of the appointment, she pushed a button, and the machine printed a strip of pictures. “Your baby’s first pictures.” She helped Catarina into a seated position and then handed the photos to Catarina with a smile. “I’ll send the report to your doctor.”

  The medical office was close by, but an hour later Catarina sat in the examining room still waiting.

  At last, Dr. Paula breezed in. “Catarina, I got the preliminary report from the ultrasound, and your baby looks great, just a little small. Let’s take your measurements again.”

  Catarina lay down, and Dr. Paula stretched the measuring tape across her belly. “You’re still measuring small as well, but the growth is consistent with the last measurements.”

  Catarina sat up. “Is that a problem?”

  “I think we have a case of small mom and small baby. As long as you’re eating healthy, taking your vitamins, and resting properly, I don’t see cause for concern. You probably won’t need maternity clothes for a while,” she said, gesturing to the elastic band holding the button on Catarina’s pants.

  Catarina wasn’t
in a rush to wear maternity clothes.

  Dr. Paula patted Catarina’s hand. “I’d like to see you in four weeks.”

  After leaving, Catarina walked to a nearby city park and found a bench tucked away in a corner. She retrieved her cell phone and held it in her hand for a moment. She wanted to call Afonso and tell him about the ultrasound, tell him about the baby. He was her friend, and the need to share with him something that brought her so much happiness filled her chest. But how would he react? While his friendship was increasingly becoming more important to her, her baby superseded it.

  Her shoulders dropped. Instead of calling, she typed a short message. I should be done by five.

  His reply came immediately. Where do you want me to pick you up?

  Same place as before is fine.

  When she put the phone back in her purse, her fingers brushed the small box, the one she’d found at the bottom of the wardrobe. She kept the box inside the purse and peeked inside. The pair of diamond studs caught the light and winked back at her, and next to them rested the platinum wedding band Juan-Carlos had given her on their wedding day. She’d been wearing both the earrings and the band when Filipe brought her to Sunset Manor, and they were all she had left from the jewelry Juan-Carlos had gifted her over the years.

  There were a few pawn shops in Castelo Branco, and she’d entered the locations on her phone. Would she be able to get a fair price for the pieces? After her appointment with Dr. Paula, Catarina would walk to all the shops, if need be.

  She needed the money too much.

  After seeing the sketches for the music room and the dining room, Filipe had called Catarina and asked her to start the plans for the interior decorating for the whole house. In the next month, a tentative routine took root between Catarina and Afonso.

  On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, Senhor Francisco helped Afonso on common projects. On Mondays and Fridays, Afonso worked other tasks by himself.

  Catarina became familiar with the house and its architectural qualities. The way the sun bathed the building throughout the day intrigued her, and she sketched various versions of each room on the ground floor and upstairs until she filled the sketch pad with details from every angle.

  On Saturdays, Afonso drove her to markets in nearby towns, in particular a warehouse where she found most of her favorite pieces. Little by little, the plans became more complete, and her vision for each room would soon be more than just on paper. Maybe she’d get the courage to ask Filipe for a recommendation as an interior designer when she moved out. In any case, Catarina took pictures of each room in its “before” look. The start of her portfolio.

  The swing had become one of her favorite spots and often, after dinner, Afonso would follow her to the large linden tree, where they watched the late sun spread its colors in a languorous setting.

  On Wednesday, Catarina had been working on the old piano for almost two days. With Afonso on the property and far from the house, she stole away to the music room and pulled the cover off the piano. Dona Madalena had brought old sheets to protect the floor and, after her last trip to Castelo Branco, Catarina finally had all the ingredients for the natural furniture polish: olive oil, lemon juice, and lemon essential oil, mixed well in a spray bottle. Flannel rags turned out to be the perfect cloth for the job, and she worked in small sections, alternating between standing and sitting, taking breaks to walk and unfold her legs. Maybe the homemade furniture polish was not as effective as the commercial kind, but, in her present condition, the natural recipe was safer, and promised results just as glossy.

  The piano tuner was coming this morning, and the furniture from the warehouse would be delivered in the afternoon. The Ford truck had been too small for the largest pieces, and Catarina had hired a moving truck.

  When a loud knock sounded at the front door, Catarina rushed to get it.

  A man with cropped gray hair carrying a weathered leather bag stood on the steps. “I’m Abílio Moreira, the piano tuner. Is this the right place? Are you Catarina Romano?”

  She opened the door wide and let him in. “Yes, I am. This way, please.”

  He walked with stooped shoulders, gazing around the entryway and admiring the skylight. “Fancy place you got here. I’m not feeling so bad about the travel fees.”

  Catarina was, but she didn’t comment. Paying Senhor Moreira to come all the way from Coimbra to tune the piano was an expense that had taken her several days to justify. His travel fees alone cost almost as much as some people earned in a month. And those were people with jobs, people who actually earned money. She had neither a job nor a salary.

  But she had Afonso. The thought snuck up on her. She had him as her friend, which was more than she could say of most anyone else for the past several years. Except for Filipe, who was family, and maybe felt some sort of duty toward her.

  Afonso had been so kind and done so much for her. She wanted—needed—to do something in return. And so she’d managed to set aside enough of the precious euros from the sale of her jewelry to cover this one expense. The rest she would save toward the support of her baby.

  Catarina wouldn’t be living at Filipe’s expense in the new year, maybe even before that. Not that he would kick her out, but she had a shred of pride left, however thin and feeble. Sacrificing her meager funds to do this one thing for Afonso meant more to her than all the expensive gifts she’d given Juan-Carlos. In her heart, she knew why, but Catarina pushed the feeling aside and concentrated on getting through the next few hours successfully.

  “This is it.” She swung the door open and walked ahead to retrieve the spray bottle and rag.

  The man approached the piano and set down his bag. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time.” His hand passed reverently over the wood. “Have you been polishing it? I hope you’re spraying the cloth and not the wood directly.”

  “Yes, of course.” She did know that much, thanks to Google.

  The man knelt and opened his bag of instruments. “It’ll take two hours, at least, if not more.” He started immediately, propping open the piano’s lid.

  Catarina took her spray bottle and flannel rags and moved her polishing efforts to the banister on the grand staircase. It didn’t need it, having recently been revarnished. She used a clean rag and buffed the dark wood. From this position, she’d be able to see anyone who came through the front door or from the kitchen. Maybe it was foolish to hope Afonso would like her surprise, and even more foolish to spend her own money on the tuning, but how could she not?

  Dona Madalena talked Catarina into a mid-morning snack, and Catarina easily gave in. The old lady reminded Catarina of her Romano grandmother, Avó Teresa, with her concern and her advice. Just like Avó Teresa, Dona Madalena offered her opinion and counsel whether Catarina asked for it or not. But the voice of experience was hard to argue with, and Catarina had learned enough difficult lessons in the past few months to know when to listen, even when she hadn’t asked.

  An hour later, when Catarina took a bottle of water to the piano tuner, he called her over. “Do you see this sticker here?”

  She leaned over to peek where he pointed. There was a name, a signature, and a date.

  “It means this piano hasn’t been tuned in twenty-five years. Good thing it’s an instrument of quality.” He waved her off. “I should be done in another hour.”

  When she returned, he’d began packing his tools. “Who’s the pianist? You or your husband?”

  “Definitely not me. It’s a surprise for him.” Why did everybody assume she had a husband? Didn’t she look like she could be the independent type?

  He rose, holding the bag. “I can guarantee you he’ll be surprised.” His hand rested on the wood. “It sounds better than new.” The pride in his voice was hard to miss. “Too bad I can’t stay to hear him play it.” He followed Catarina to the entry hall. “Tell him to make sure it doesn’t take another twenty-five years to tune it again.”

  Catarina drew the cash from her pocket and
paid him the remainder of the fees. So much money. Had she done the right thing? Only the anticipation of seeing—and hearing—Afonso’s reaction when he played gave her strength to know she wouldn’t regret hiring the tuner. It would be worth it.

  She went back to polishing the rest of the piano and left the cover off so the wood could dry.

  When Dona Madalena came to get her for lunch, Catarina was ready for a break. She was looking forward to seeing Afonso, but he didn’t come. Instead, Senhor Francisco asked his wife to pack two lunches, and he returned to the grounds.

  Catarina took a short nap after lunch, and weird dreams plagued her sleep. When Dona Madalena knocked on her door an hour later, Catarina woke with a start.

  “The delivery people are here. Do you want them to park at the front or at the back?”

  “At the front, please.”

  She took a few minutes to comb her hair and brush her teeth, hoping the sleep wrinkles on her face weren’t too noticeable.

  When Catarina opened the front door, a woman with short hair stood on the steps. Behind her, at the back of the truck, two guys opened the latches to the double doors.

  The woman held a clipboard in her hand. “I have a delivery for Catarina Romano.”

  “That’s me.”

  “My name is Joana. I’m from the warehouse, and I’m here to ensure the delivery goes smoothly,” the woman said. “This is such a large, expensive order, and I don’t want anything to go wrong. Will you show me where the pieces go?”

  She had a friendly voice and a no-nonsense attitude, and Catarina felt at ease.

  Catarina unlatched the front door and opened both sides flat against the wall. As the woman walked into the entryway, her eyes widened. “This house is fantastic.” Her admiration sounded in her voice.

  Catarina opened the double doors to the dining room, then crossed the entry hall and did the same at the music room.

  Joana turned to Catarina. “I can see you have excellent taste. The pieces you bought will really enhance these rooms.”

  Catarina hoped Filipe would share the opinion when he saw the transformation.