by Niki Turner
From behind a wide island, an older man in a chef’s white double-breasted jacket shouted commands in a mixture of Spanish and French while he hovered over a triple-tiered cake that rivaled any wedding cake she’d ever seen.
She didn’t know how long she stood there before the man looked up and saw her.
She started to step forward, but he gasped and jerked a hand to his heart as if he’d seen a ghost, stepping into the path of a black-coated waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes.
The tray crashed to the floor in a sparkling disaster, generating a harsh cry from the affronted waiter.
But the chef, or the cook, or whoever he was, didn’t even react.
Panic rose up to choke Tansy, and she turned to make a hasty exit, but the man, with shocking speed for someone his age, darted around the island and across the kitchen before she could escape.
“Who are you?” He demanded in harsh Spanish, gripping her arm. When she didn’t answer, he repeated his question in English.
“My name is Tansy,” she said.
His gaze rolled over her.
She clutched the walking stick against her body, praying the object remained concealed in the folds of soft wool. “Your dress, Señorita, where did it come from?”
She swallowed. Was it possible the man had been here that long? Could he remember Darcy in this dress? If he remembered it, so would Sebastian’s grandfather. “It belonged to Darcy St. John.” She shivered, thinking of Darcy, and Eva.
He gasped again, his gaze dropping.
Instinctively, she pulled the awkward woolen bundle closer.
“And what is that?”
“It’s for Sebastian. Well, it’s for his grandfather. I have to give it to him.” She stared into the old man’s eyes, praying he wasn’t one of Arturo’s spies or cohorts.
“¡Gloria a Dios!” His mouth widened into a huge smile. He released her arm and raised his hands in a gesture of praise. “At last. Thanks be to the Lord.”
Tansy blinked.
“I will take you to Señor Sandoval right away.” He tugged a small towel from his belt and mopped beads of sweat from his face, then grabbed a passing servant by the sleeve and hissed a series of directions.
The man nodded, picked up an apron, and took the older man’s place, shouting instructions to the staff.
The cook offered her his arm as though he were a Victorian gentleman.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her through the kitchen, down a corridor, and into a jewel-encrusted, perfume-marinated mass of humanity in a room that would have housed four of her apartments and a two-car garage. He pushed his way through the crowd.
She bowed her head, tried to block out the murmurs, and wished she could click her borrowed pink satin heels together and disappear...leaving nothing but the walking stick behind.
When her companion stopped, Tansy almost tumbled into the back of another guest. She lifted her head and looked up to see Sebastian helping his grandfather climb a short set of stairs onto a raised platform set up for a band, based on the drum kit and the proliferation of cables and microphone stands.
Tansy inhaled at the sight of Sebastian in a formal suit...not a tuxedo, but a well-cut suit with a white shirt and a narrow pink tie that was a perfect match to her—Darcy’s—dress.
His silver eyes gleamed with pride and satisfaction as he tugged a microphone from a stand and checked it.
She moved to stand behind a tall couple, staying out of Sebastian's view.
“Need a translator?” Toulouse whispered behind her.
Tansy jumped. She hadn't expected Toulouse to find her so quickly in the crowd.
Tansy nodded.
“I appreciate all of you coming to celebrate this occasion with me, and with my family,” Sebastian said. “But most of all I’d like to thank my grandfather. Without him, I would not be the man I am today.” He paused. “Depending on my relationship with you, you might think that’s a compliment or a curse for him.”
A rumble of laughter suffused the room.
“It is my heartfelt prayer that I will be able to make him proud for the next thirty years of my life.”
Sebastian’s grandfather reached for the microphone then, and Sebastian took a step back.
Tansy kept her eyes on him, committing every inch to memory, knowing this would be the last time she saw him. Once he knew the truth, knew she’d had the walking stick all along, he would never speak to her again. Sucking in a breath, she stepped out from behind the tall couple and into Sebastian’s line of sight.
****
Sebastian scanned the faces of his guests. Business associates, assorted cousins and relations, socialites who always received an invitation whether anyone knew them or not, a few minor celebrities. No friends. He hissed out a breath. Movement in the gathered crowd caught his attention, and his gaze locked on Tansy, clad in a frothy pink gown, standing between Anselm, the family cook, and Toulouse.
Toulouse whispered in Tansy’s ear, probably interpreting for her.
Anselm had Tansy’s left hand snared under his arm, and Tansy clutched a black woolen shawl draped across her body.
His eyes opened wide in a combination of confusion and relief. He was pleased, and surprised, that she had come. But why hadn’t she sought him out right away? Hope flared to life in his soul. Maybe there was a chance she would let him explain, let him profess his love for her. He started to run down the steps and catch her, but abuelo cleared his throat and began to speak.
“As many of you know, my grandson’s thirtieth birthday is a momentous occasion, not only for him, but for our whole family. It is our tradition to pass the mantle of leadership on the thirtieth birthday, as long as certain conditions have been met.”
Sebastian swallowed. Surely his grandfather wasn’t going to subject him to public humiliation on his birthday.
Abuelo turned then, covering the microphone with one gnarled hand, to speak directly to Sebastian, as if the crowd had disappeared.
“I’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking about your birthday this year, and I’ve made some decisions.”
Sebastian’s heart picked up its pace.
“The demands I placed on you, the requirements for you to receive your birthright, they aren’t fair. Or right.” The old man ran a hand over his face, rubbing his faded eyes. “Our God asks us to live by faith, sí?”
Sebastian nodded, unsure where this was heading. His grandfather was a God-fearing man, well-versed in the rules and dictates of his family’s orthodox religious practice, but his own personal faith was not something of which he often spoke. That he would bring it up now, in this public forum, made the muscles in Sebastian’s neck and shoulders tense.
“Our God says that when we have faith, our works will follow,” his grandfather continued. “You, Sebastian, have shown me your faith—in family, in what the generations that have come before you have worked to achieve—since the first day you were old enough to go into the vineyard at harvest time. Too little to hold the knife, barely big enough to drag the basket to fill with the grapes I cut.”
Sebastian was surprised to see bright tears sparkling in his grandfather’s eyes.
“And yet, instead of judging you faithful by your works, I demanded nothing but meaningless works from you, and threatened you with the loss of your birthright if you failed to complete them.” Abuelo brushed at the tears that slipped down his wrinkled cheeks and met his grandson’s gaze. “This...this is not like our heavenly Father. Tonight, Sebastian, you will receive your inheritance. Not because you’ve fulfilled some list of earthly tasks, but because you have proved yourself faithful, a true son, in every sense of the word.”
“No!” The guttural cry, filled with rage, came from behind them.
Sebastian swiveled.
Diego, his dark face twisted with hatred and grief and misery, limped toward them from the side door, wrenching back a hood as he moved. One arm was wrapped in a sling, and his face was dotted with
small butterfly bandages.
In the other hand, Sebastian realized with horror, Diego carried a gun.
How had he gotten away from the hospital? Away from police custody? And where were the security guards hired for the night? The questions would have to wait, though. Like a wave curling back into the ocean, the gathered guests withdrew from the platform.
Diego moved toward the dais, extending his arm as he went.
Sebastian stepped between his grandfather and his cousin.
“Diego, what are you doing?”
“I’m taking what’s mine, all that my father promised me. He failed, and now I will take it for myself!” The whites of Diego’s eyes showed as his head jerked from side to side. “No one is taking my inheritance from me!” He flapped the gun, pointing it first at Sebastian, then at the crowd, then at abuelo, who had stepped up beside Sebastian.
“Put the gun down, Diego. This is not the way to earn my respect or a place in this family’s future,” Abuelo said.
“No! You’ve manipulated us all for years, making all your demands. My father couldn’t even love me, he was so focused on trying to please you.”
“I’ve done many things wrong, Diego, I admit that.” Sebastian’s grandfather extended his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “But the choices your father made were his, not mine, and not yours. You aren’t responsible for my failures, or his, you are only responsible for your own.”
****
Tansy looked from Sebastian and his grandfather to Diego, whose arm had begun to shake, whether from emotion or fatigue, she didn’t know, but he didn’t lower the weapon. The walking stick in Tansy’s arms seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. She looked down. Jostled by the crowd, the shawl had been disturbed, revealing the weighty silver fox-head handle and a portion of the glossy black body of the staff. She snatched at the cover, pulling it over the walking stick again.
“I’ll kill you both, and then it will all be mine!” Tears streamed down Diego’s smooth cheeks.
Tansy winced.
He was a victim as well. Another casualty of greed and pride, lust and selfishness.
Her fingers curled around the walking stick, and she let the shawl drop to the floor. She tugged her hand out of the cook’s elbow and started to weave her way through the throng of horrified, yet fascinated, party goers.
A strange peace slid over her as she slipped through the guests, frozen like wax figures. She kept several rows of people between herself and Diego, exiting the crowd behind him, out of his line of sight.
His movements with the gun were becoming less random and more directed toward Sebastian.
She slipped out of the high heels and stepped onto the platform. She knew the instant Sebastian and his grandfather saw her step up behind Diego.
The old man paled.
Sebastian’s brows winged upward, and his lips thinned.
“You’re a fool and a coward, Diego,” Sebastian challenged. “If you want to fight for your inheritance, then put the gun down and face me like a man.”
Diego trembled visibly. Great wet rings of sweat marred his shirt under the arms.
Give me strength, Lord, she prayed. Then she brought the walking stick around behind her body, both hands on one end as if it were a baseball bat, and swung with all her might. The silver fox head caught Diego just above the left ear.
As he pitched forward, the gun skittered from his grasp.
The force of the blow dislodged the head of the walking stick, and the silver fox tumbled, end over end, into the crowd, followed by a glittering shower of glass.
Tansy gaped at the stick, now minus its beautiful silver handle, aware that she had just destroyed the object she’d been commissioned to return to Eduardo Sandoval.
And then Sebastian’s gentle hands were on her shoulders. He bent to look into her face, his expression a blend of horror and concern. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and lifted the hollow end of the walking stick. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I had it. Eva, your grandmother, told me not to entrust it to anyone, and now it’s broken.”
Sebastian frowned at her, then at the walking stick.
Tansy watched recognition dawn in his features.
“This is it? The walking stick my mother took when she left?”
Tansy nodded again, her breath hitching in her throat. “Eva swore me to secrecy. She said it would be terribly dangerous for anyone to know I had it.”
Sebastian looked around to where two of the hired parking valets, called in from outside duty, had Diego pinned to the floor. “I’d say she was correct.”
Someone squealed, and Sebastian and Tansy turned to look.
Toulouse was on her hands and knees, scooping up bits of broken glass with reckless abandon.
The crowd fell silent and Toulouse smiled at them, then stood, crossed the space to Eduardo and held out her fist.
He extended his hand, and she trickled a stream of rough stones into his palm.
“This is why you wanted it back so much, isn’t it?” Toulouse asked. The microphone, still turned on, carried her voice through the sound system.
Sebastian’s grandfather stared at his cupped palm, eyes wide with wonder. When, he spoke, it was to no one in particular. “I always believed they were there, but I was too afraid to find out for myself.” Then he turned to Sebastian. “These are for you.”
Sebastian gripped Tansy’s hand and pulled her across the platform to his grandfather.
The old man stared at her and blinked. “For a moment, I thought you were Darcy, returned to haunt my last days,” he said, in the thickly-accented English she remembered from the shop.
“No, Señor. This is Darcy’s dress, but I’m not a ghost. Her mother, Eva St. John, sent me here to return your walking stick. To make things right, once and for all.”
Eduardo nodded, then reached for Sebastian’s free hand and held it open. He poured the contents of his own hand into Sebastian’s, as Toulouse had done. It looked like a handful of dirty, broken bits of glass. And then Tansy realized what they were and gasped.
“Where...” Sebastian’s voice trailed off, punctuated by a groan from Diego.
****
Sebastian forced his jaw to shut as Abuelo picked up the microphone and addressed the audience.
“My grandfather came to Chile from Ireland in the nineteenth century. He stowed away aboard a ship bound for Argentina. That ship was reported to be a pirate ship, and when it sank off the Argentinian coast, no one bothered to look for survivors. My grandfather arrived in Chile several months later, having in his possession a quantity of rough-cut diamonds from the mines in Africa. It’s said he used some of those diamonds to purchase this property, and then kept the rest of them hidden away.”
Abuelo turned to Sebastian. “As children, my brothers and I would search the house and the grounds for the gems, and we badgered our grandfather with questions about their whereabouts. He would just laugh, and tap his stick against the ground. He said that walking stick was the only possession he still had from the homeland.”
Toulouse came to the foot of the dais again, holding out the last few diamonds and the silver head of the walking stick. Abuelo received them with a gentle smile and passed the stones to Sebastian. Tansy extended the hollow staff.
He took it, and reattached the fox head to the top with a few brisk motions.
“Tonight, all that was lost is again restored.” He kissed the top of the walking stick, then raised it high in the air.
The crowd erupted into hearty applause.
Sebastian stepped forward and hugged his grandfather, tears of relief and gratitude blurring his vision. He’d almost lost his abuelo, and the sudden terror he’d known in those moments far surpassed the surprise appearance of the walking stick, or the gemstones. What mattered was having the loved ones close at hand. He squeezed his grandfather again, and thought of Tansy. He loved her, too, and was still at risk of losing her. He turned to reach for her, but
she was gone.
“I have to catch her.”
Abuelo pushed him, none too gently. “Yes, you do. Get going.”
****
Tansy made her way through the crowd, stopping to slip her feet back into her abandoned shoes. Tears prickled her eyelids. She hadn’t understood all of Eduardo’s explanation, but she gathered enough to know all was going to be well between Sebastian and his grandfather.
For the first time, she understood the true importance of Eva’s assignment.
It had less to do with a natural inheritance, and everything to do with a heavenly one, with finding and honoring the great gift of love. It was Eva’s love for her daughter and her grandson that had sent Tansy on her journey.
And it was Tansy’s love for Sebastian that had propelled her through those last few terrifying moments to finish her assignment.
Now it was time to leave. She’d fulfilled her word to Eva. Sebastian had his life here, and Tansy had her life back in Colorado. Had she fallen in love with him on the way to completing her task? Yes. But that was her fault, not his, and she would have to live with the consequences.
She remembered walking through the Parque Forestal, his expression when she’d splashed him at the fountain, his look of pleasure when he’d handed her the new bag at the artesanal, the kiss that shattered everything she thought she knew about being attracted to someone. She didn’t have any regrets.
She wrapped her arms around her body as if she could hold in the memories. She would take them home with her, to her tiny apartment and her battered car and her never-ending battle to pay her bills every month.
Sebastian would be free to go on with his life, secure in his inheritance, running companies and buying buildings, and whatever else he did.
Tears trickled down her cheeks despite her efforts to contain them as she said a silent good-bye to Sebastian and escaped the crowded room, retracing her path through the kitchen and out the back door.
14
Sebastian hopped off the platform, paused to make sure someone had called the authorities to collect Diego, and then barreled out of the room, through the foyer, and out the front doors to the veranda. But there was no sign of a caramel-haired beauty in a pink party dress.