Sounded easy enough, but Avery was a people person, while Penelope was happiest working behind the scenes, researching exhibits and cataloging acquisitions. She would be expected to make an appearance at the gala and auction on Saturday night, of course, but dealing with the public was an aspect of her job she didn’t particularly relish.
Nervously, she ran a hand through her hair. “Something could still go wrong, and besides, I don’t like the idea of leaving the country while Simon is still recovering.”
“Recovering?” Avery sighed. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, but the man’s in a coma. There’s really nothing you can do for him, and it’s time you started thinking about yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a very promising future here at the Morehart. I’d hate to see you do anything to jeopardize your career.”
Penelope frowned. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s simply a reality,” Avery said wearily. “There’s no such thing as job security in our profession. You know that as well as I do. We both have a lot riding on this exhibit. We can’t afford to lose those masks.”
“You’re right,” she said contritely. “And, of course, I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.” He struggled to his feet. “I’ve asked Jane to transfer the reservations to your name.”
“Already done,” the woman said as she poked her head around the corner. “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might want to know that your flight leaves at seven-thirty in the morning from Bush Intercontinental, Penelope. You’ll change planes in Mexico City, arriving in Manzanillo just after noon, local time. That should give you ample opportunity to settle into the hotel before meeting with Vargas at four.”
“Thank you, Jane. Efficient as always,” Avery said.
Jane Baker gave Penelope a wink. “I aim to please, boss. Anything else I can do?”
“Did the drugstore call about my new prescription?”
She held up a bag with the name of a local pharmacy stamped across the front. “They delivered it a few minutes ago. Shall I get you a glass of water?”
“No, don’t bother. I’m headed to my office.” Avery took the bag, then paused at the door to glance back. “Oh, and Penelope?”
“Yes?”
“Relax. You’ll do fine with Vargas. Nothing is going to go wrong.”
“Famous last words,” she muttered under her breath as he hobbled out the door. She glanced up at Jane. “Guess I’m on my way to Manzanillo.”
Jane lifted a brow. “Most people wouldn’t look so glum about a trip to paradise. Cheer up. It might do you a world of good to get away.”
Penelope shrugged. “I guess. I just don’t like leaving Simon, that’s all.”
“It’ll only be for a couple of days.
“I know, but I worry.” She bit her lip.
Jane nodded. “I know. You’re worried something might happen while you’re gone.”
Penelope sighed. It was a relief to have someone to talk to about her feelings. Tay was a good friend, but there was something very comforting about Jane.
She was older, for one thing, and she’d had plenty of tragedy in her own life. A widow, she was somewhere in her mid-fifties, with a careworn face and a truly gorgeous wardrobe. She always dressed in somber colors, but her suits were exquisitely tailored, and she owned some of the most fabulous pieces of jewelry Penelope had ever seen. She’d inherited a great deal of money from her late husband’s estate, but she’d confided to Penelope once that she’d gladly give it all away if she could have the love of her life back.
Out of sheer desperation and loneliness, she’d answered an ad in the paper one day for the position of administrative assistant at the Morehart. She’d been hired after only one interview, and had been there now for nearly a year. Penelope sometimes wondered how they’d gotten along without her. She was truly a treasure, and she understood what Penelope was going through with Simon as no one else could.
“If you want to talk later, my door is always open,” she said.
“Thanks, Jane. I appreciate that.”
“And Avery is right, you know.” Jane paused at the door and gave Penelope an enigmatic smile. “You’ll knock ’em dead in Mexico.”
“WHAT’S ALL THIS?” Penelope asked that night when she opened the door to her sister. Helen, arms draped with glittering dresses, waltzed through the tiny apartment and headed straight for Penelope’s bedroom, where her suitcase lay open on the bed.
“Mother called earlier,” Helen said over her shoulder, her kitten heels tapping an efficient staccato against the hardwood floor. “She said something had come up at the museum and you have to leave for Mexico first thing in the morning. I didn’t think you’d have time to shop so voilà! I’m bringing the store to you.”
Penelope trailed the cloud of expensive perfume into her bedroom and reached for a black, strapless number that her sister had tossed carelessly onto the bed. “You don’t really expect me to wear this, do you?”
Helen shrugged. “Why not? Everyone can wear black.”
“Yes, but not everyone can wear a size two,” Penelope said dryly. “In case you haven’t noticed lately, you and I are hardly the same shape.”
“True enough.” At thirty-seven, Helen seemed to grow more beautiful every day, and tonight she looked stunning in a filmy turquoise top and designer jeans that emphasized her unnaturally slim hips and thighs. “I tried to pick out items with a little give—Lycra is a god-send—but you happen to be right about that particular dress.” She reached over and plucked the hanger from Penelope’s fingers. “Very few people can wear Versace.” She discarded the dress and began to rifle through the other outfits. “But don’t worry. There must be something here that suits you.”
“I appreciate the effort,” Penelope said. “But I don’t need any of this froufrou stuff anyway. It’s a business trip.”
Helen glanced up. “You’ll still need evening wear. What if someone asks you to dinner?”
“I’ll politely decline.”
“You say that now, but what if you get down there and you meet someone who completely sweeps you off your feet? You won’t have a thing to wear.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Penelope said impatiently. “This isn’t a vacation. I’m going on behalf of the museum. And besides, I’m still engaged, remember?”
Helen shrugged. “So what? I’m married and you don’t see me letting myself go, do you?” She continued to sort through the expensive dresses, then threw her hands up in despair. “This is ridiculous! I don’t know what I was thinking. None of these are right for you.” She sighed in resignation. “I suppose we’ll just have to make do with what you’ve got in your closet. Let’s have a look.”
Before Penelope could muster an argument, Helen strode over to the walk-in and began to rummage through the meager contents. Muttering to herself, she kept digging until she finally pulled out a white lace halter dress with the tags still dangling.
“Hello, what’s this?” she exclaimed in triumph. Penelope tried to snatch the dress away, but Helen backed out of her reach. “You’ve been holding out on me,” she accused. “Why have I never seen you wear this?”
Penelope sighed. “If you must know…I bought it for my honeymoon.”
Helen’s tone turned brisk. “It’s perfect for Manzanillo.”
“That may be, but I’m not taking it,” Penelope said stubbornly. “I’m saving it to wear when Simon gets better.”
“Oh, nonsense, why waste a perfectly good outfit?” Helen held the dress against her body as she glided over to the full-length mirror, examining her reflection from first one angle, then the other. “Besides, it’ll give you an excuse to buy something new.”
Penelope knew from experience that it was pointless to quarrel. Helen could be relentless when she set her mind to something. For the sake of peace, Penelope held her tongue, but after her sister left, she would hang the
dress back in her closet where it belonged.
“Oh, by the way.” Helen continued to admire her reflection. “When Alex heard about your trip, he insisted that you stay at his villa.”
“Alex Salizar?” Penelope asked in astonishment. “How on earth did he find out about my trip? Wait, don’t tell me. This is Mother’s idea, isn’t it? She asked him to keep an eye on me.” That was so typically Athena. She thought nothing of Cassandra traipsing through the rain forest, but God forbid that Penelope could make a quick business trip to Mexico and back without need of a chaperon. Or a keeper.
Fuming, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, relax,” Helen said. “Mother doesn’t know anything about this. It was Alex’s idea.”
Penelope’s scowl deepened. “But why would he make such an offer? I hardly know him.”
“Of course you do. He’s practically family.”
“He’s barely an acquaintance.”
Helen gave her a reproachful glance. “Well, obviously he doesn’t feel that way, and I know he’ll be hurt if you don’t accept his offer.”
Penelope laughed. “Oh, please. If anything, he’ll be relieved. I’m sure he was only trying to be polite. Or else…” She met her sister’s gaze in the mirror.
Helen’s eyes widened innocently. “What?”
“You didn’t coerce him into inviting me, did you?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Penelope’s tone turned suspicious. “Maybe because you’re trying to set me up?”
“Set you up?” Helen spun to face her. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Not much you don’t. What about that day I saw you and Alex having lunch together? You told me that you were planning a spur-of-the-moment dinner party and you wanted to check and make sure that we were both free. But you got all flustered, and it was obvious you just made that up.”
Helen looked taken aback. “And you thought I was trying to fix you up? Is that what you were babbling about at lunch the other day with Mother? You think she and I are trying to play matchmaker? With you and Alex?”
Penelope folded her arms. “Actually, she’s trying to hook me up with Doug Fairchild. Alex is your idea.”
Helen gave a funny little laugh as she turned back to the mirror. “Trust me, Pen. I’m not trying to fix you up with Alex Salizar. And as for Doug…” She trailed off, her eyes momentarily clouding. “I know Dad thinks the world of him, but…steer clear, okay? I think he has issues.”
“Issues? What are you talking about?”
Helen shrugged. “I don’t know. He just creeps me out a little, that’s all.”
“You didn’t used to feel that way,” Penelope reminded her. “In fact, you two were pretty close before you met Grayson.”
“We weren’t that close,” Helen said. “At least, I didn’t think so, but he didn’t take the breakup very well. He may look all mild mannered on the outside, but let me tell you something, Penelope. That man has a nasty temper.”
“He was probably just jealous,” Penelope said. “After all, it’s pretty obvious that he still has a thing for you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Helen said with uncharacteristic modesty.
“Of course, you do,” Penelope insisted. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and there is no way I’d ever get involved with a man who is still that hung up on another woman. But it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m still very much committed to Simon.”
“So you’ve said.”
Penelope ignored the disparaging note in her sister’s voice. “And if you aren’t trying to fix me up with Alex, then why this invitation to stay at his villa? Don’t tell me it was entirely his doing.”
Helen smoothed a hand down the white dress, keeping her eyes averted from Penelope’s. “It was, I swear. And besides, he won’t even be there. You’ll have the place to yourself, and honestly, you’ll be kicking yourself if you don’t accept. His house is magnificent. It sits on a hillside with a spectacular view of the ocean, and the gardens are like something from a fairy tale.”
“You’ve been there?” Penelope asked in surprise. “When?”
“Oh, a while ago.” Helen turned and walked over to the bed. Carefully she folded the white dress, placing tissue paper between the creases. “I’m serious. You really should accept. The place is completely secluded so you’ll have your privacy, and his staff will wait on you hand and foot. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
“I suppose,” Penelope murmured, intrigued by the turn of events. When had Helen and Alex Salizar gotten so chummy? And why did it seem so important that Penelope stay at his villa?
She remembered the day she’d seen the two of them together. They’d been dining at a little out-of-the-way bistro that wasn’t at all the sort of place her sister normally frequented. Penelope hadn’t thought anything about finding them together until Helen had started babbling something about a dinner party, and then, judging by her nervousness, Penelope had jumped to the conclusion that her sister was trying to fix her up with Alex, just as their mother had done with Doug Fairchild.
Now, though, Penelope started to wonder about Helen’s behavior that day…
And she started to remember other things, too.
Like the recent tension between Helen and Grayson.
What the heck was going on?
“So what should I tell Alex?” Helen pretended nonchalance as she placed the white dress in Penelope’s suitcase.
Maybe you should remind him that you’re a married woman. And while you’re at it, maybe you should both remember that Grayson is Alex’s business partner.
Aloud Penelope said, “If I accept his invitation, how would I even find this place?”
“That’s all taken care of. He’ll send his driver to meet you at the airport. Oh, and here. He wanted you to have this.” She pulled a card from her purse and handed it to Penelope.
She glanced at the name and phone number on the card. “Robert Smith? Who is he?”
“An American ex-pat who has some obscure position in the Mexican government. No one seems to know what he does, but Alex said if you run into any trouble, you’re to give this guy a call.”
Apprehension prickled along Penelope’s backbone. “What kind of trouble?”
“Who knows?” Helen said dismissively. “Maybe with permits or something.”
“Thanks,” Penelope muttered. “Let’s hope I don’t need it.”
“Keep it anyway. You never know.” Helen came around the bed and air-kissed Penelope’s cheek. “I have to get going. Have a wonderful trip, okay?”
“You’re leaving?” Penelope followed her into the living room. “I thought you wanted to help me pack.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can take it from here.” Helen hooked her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door.
“But what about all those things you brought over—”
“I’ll pick them up when you get back.” All of a sudden, Helen seemed as if she couldn’t wait to get out of Penelope’s apartment. She opened the door and glanced down the breezeway before turning back to Penelope. “In the meantime, I’ll let Alex know that you’ve accepted his invitation.”
Penelope nodded, feeling as if she’d just been steamrollered into doing something she’d probably live to regret. “Please tell him how much I appreciate his generosity.”
Helen tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Not to worry. I’ll make sure he knows how grateful we both are.”
Chapter Six
The Peninsula de Santiago, a twenty-five minute drive from the Playa de Oro International Airport in Manzanillo, was home to some of the most spectacular hotels and private residences in the world. Through the tinted windows of Alex Salizar’s Mercedes, Penelope could only stare in wonder at such luxury even though she had grown up in one of Houston’s most prestigious neighborhoods. But nothing in River Oaks compared to the villas and massive estates that clung to
the steep, lush hillside.
Alex’s house was a sprawling split-level in the traditional Spanish style, dramatically set against a cool backdrop of palm trees and surrounded by flower gardens, exotic shrubs and carefully watered grass. Purple bougainvillea spilled over six-foot terra-cotta urns on either side of the entrance steps, and through the intricate gate of the front courtyard, Penelope caught a tantalizing glimpse of mammoth tree ferns and gurgling waterfalls.
As the driver, Mateo, got out to open Penelope’s door, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties trotted down the steps, her red dress swirling gracefully about her knees.
She smiled warmly as she held out her hand. “Ms. Moon? We’ve been expecting you. I’m Elena Reyes,” she said in perfect English. “I see to the house while Alex is away.”
The casual way the woman referred to Alex Salizar instantly piqued Penelope’s curiosity about their relationship.
“How do you do?” She shook Elena’s hand, then glanced around in awe. For once, Helen hadn’t exaggerated. “This place is incredible,” she said breathlessly.
Elena smiled. “Yes, it is beautiful, isn’t it? Shall we go inside?”
Penelope followed her up the steps and through the shady courtyard into the foyer. The main floor of the house was a large open space, exotically decorated with Mexican antiques, ceramics and the most exquisite fabrics Penelope had ever laid eyes on. The whole place was airy and cool—and beautifully quiet—even though the French doors stood open to the afternoon heat.
Elena’s leather sandals made hardly a whisper on the tile floor as she led Penelope down a long, spacious hallway. At the very end, she drew back ornately carved doors and stood back for Penelope to enter.
As in the other areas of the house, the bedroom was decorated with an exotic flair. Yards and yards of embroidered silk draped the windows and bed while colorful glass pieces artfully captured the afternoon light.
Penelope immediately crossed the tile floor to glance out the French doors, which opened onto her own private courtyard. She could hear a fountain somewhere nearby, and for a moment she stood enchanted as a pair of blue morphos flitted about a potted butterfly bush.
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