A Riverwalk Christmas: Four-in-One Collection

by Elizabeth Goddard, Martha Rogers, Lynette Sowell

  “Sienna.” His voice was soft but firm. “Just one more time so I understand. You neither planned this nor expected to be abandoned here with me?”

  “Of course not,” she said quickly. “I’d have to be an idiot to want to …” Her voice trailed off when she took note of the disappointment on his face. “To break Mr. Kelton’s rule.”

  Joey gave her a sideways look. “Which is?”

  “No romance on the film set,” she said.

  “I see.” He reached for the packet and pulled out the deck of cards. “Want to play gin rummy, or do I have to resort to solitaire?”

  Chapter 8

  By the time the car returned—this time a four-wheel-drive Jeep station wagon—Joe had almost decided he could be friends with Sienna Montalvo. After all, he’d known her well before braces and acne cream had been replaced with scripts and movie openings.

  And this acting thing was all her fault anyway.

  Making the change from vagabond army brat to a kid with a house and a yard and, for the first time ever, a dog, hadn’t been enough trauma for him. No, he’d gone and fallen in love, too.

  With Sienna Montalvo, the pretty girl with the big smile and the plans to become a famous Hollywood director once she left San Antonio.

  The General advised Joe to figure out what interested Sienna and find a way to get her attention through being part of that interest. He could still remember the look of surprise on his father’s face when he came home to tell him the star of the Freshman Drama Club’s fall production was Joe Ramirez.

  “What’s so funny?” Sienna nudged him with her elbow. “Still gloating about beating me at gin rummy?”

  He swiveled to see the whole of her, and his smile broadened, though it had nothing to do with winning at card games. “Actually, I was thinking about Miss Harrison’s drama class. Ninth grade, I believe it was.”

  Sienna laughed even as she shook her head. “Oh no, whatever for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I was wondering how I got where I am today. Best I can recall, it began with that stupid class. Who would have thought I’d be making movies? Surely not Miss Harrison. I think she predicted more of a jailhouse scene for me. As in me ending up in jail or dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  “Oh please, Joey. You’re a wonderful actor despite Miss Harrison. As I recall you spent almost as much time in detention because of your behavior in that class than you ever actually spent participating in the class.”

  “I did not.” He laughed. “Every time I did something wrong, she put me up on the stage and made me recite something or act out a scene. That woman really didn’t like me.”

  “You’re probably right.” When she reached to touch his sleeve, Joe resisted the urge to place his hand over hers. “Though you’d never know this to hear Miss Harrison speak of you now.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Sienna pushed a strand of ebony hair back and smiled. “Britny was elected president of the Thespian Society and is quite a little actress, if I do say so myself.”

  “Britny? Your sister’s little girl? I know it’s only been seven months since we …” He paused, jolted at the sudden reminder of their breakup. “That is, it surely hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen her. Last Christmas she was still playing soccer with the boys, for goodness’ sake.”

  “Oh she still plays soccer,” Sienna said, “only now she plays on the freshman team. They took district in the girls’ division this year.” She paused. “But, oh, Joey, for all that she’s good on the soccer field, she’s simply amazing up on that stage. You should have seen her in Fiddler on the Roof. I cried, and I’m only the auntie.”

  “What does your sister think of this?”

  Sienna shrugged. “You know how Dina is.”

  “So she’s not thrilled that her daughter might get mixed up with those awful Hollywood types?”

  “Joey.” A warning attached to a name. “We’re talking about Dina and Britny, not Dina and you.”

  He let out a long breath. “Yes, of course,” Joe said. “Sorry. It’s just that—”

  “That my family hasn’t exactly been welcoming of actors?” Sienna met his stare. “Trust me, Joey, it’s just you they don’t like.”

  “Comforting,” he said as he noticed the twinkle in her eye. “But you’re teasing me, Sienna. I like that, even though you know there is more than a little truth in what you’re saying.”

  “I think you’d be surprised,” Sienna said as the Jeep turned off the freeway and made its way down the ramp toward downtown. “Of all my family, I think Dina actually came closest to being your ally. Auntie Vi, Auntie Consuela, and Auntie Dolores, not so much, though they seemed to change their minds after that last movie of yours. And Papa? Well, let’s not even talk about him.”

  Joe reached over to snag her wrist. “Let’s do talk about your papa,” he said softly.

  Sienna swung her gaze to collide with his. “He was right, and that’s all I intend to say about my father.”

  “Yeah, he was.” He released her and sat back against the seat. “I’m sure he’s glad his little girl’s home.”

  “Actually I haven’t been home yet. Mr. Kelton scheduled production meetings all day yesterday, and I knew we were leaving early this morning, so I stayed at the hotel.”

  Under the same roof as me.

  Joe pushed away the thought and forced a grin. “Does your father know that?”

  A smile touched the corners of her mouth. “He would not be pleased if he knew I was so close to his casa and didn’t call,” she said. “But I’m making up for it tonight.”

  “A Montalvo family fiesta?”

  Joe had attended his share, and they were among his favorite memories. Nowhere had he felt so included as under the Montalvo roof, at least until news of their breakup. He briefly considered skipping his dinner with Art Kelton to crash the party and make a grand gesture of contrition to try and win back Sienna’s heart.

  Likely he’d have to get past her older sister Dina and the three aunties to even reach the door. And if he managed that, he’d be certain to find Mr. Montalvo on the porch cleaning his shotgun or sharpening his best hunting knife.

  For a man of less than huge stature, Jorge Montalvo always made a big impression.

  The car jolted to a halt in front of the Hotel Valencia, and Joe lost any opportunity to continue the conversation. As the door opened, he reached for Sienna one last time. Capturing her hand, Joe tried to make up his mind what to do next.

  Other than grovel, which was what he’d truly wanted to do most of the afternoon.

  “It’s been an interesting day, Sienna.” He released her to let his best acting skills carry him through the exit he planned. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Without looking back to see her expression, Joe grabbed his coonskin hat and what was left of his heart and climbed out of the Jeep only to trip over his own feet. By the time he regained his dignity and found his footing, the car and the woman he knew he’d never stopped loving were heading toward the highway.

  Sienna leaned back against the seat and groaned. Today had been a complete disaster. What happened to the scenario where she left him with his sandwich and cards and hightailed it back to San Antonio? Had her cell phone worked, she might have been forced to spend an hour alone with Joey at most. Instead, the driver waited three hours to return.

  “Why do You do all these things, Lord?” she whispered, thankful for the headphones in the driver’s ears. You know how I feel about Joey Ramirez. He broke my heart! Turned me into the Ramirez Reject!

  And yet she’d felt like anything but a reject today. From his first misunderstood attempt at a kiss to his admission that he’d wanted to make the first move toward reconciliation, he’d almost been the old Joey.

  The man she loved.

  Past tense.

  Nothing is impossible with God.

  “Joey Ramirez is impossible. Can’t You do something about that, God? Please?”

>   Sienna let her complaint stew until the Jeep turned off the highway toward the neighborhood that had once been all she knew of the world. Before college, before the years of paying her dues and working her way up to becoming Art Kelton’s PA, she had simply been her father’s Sissy.

  Every time Sienna spied the rambling frame cottage with the patch of grass and climbing roses in the front and the garage apartment out back, she felt ten years old again. A check of her watch told her that Papa’s sisters, Auntie Vi, Auntie Consuela, and Auntie Dolores, would likely be competing with Papa to create whatever feast had been chosen for tonight’s menu.

  She leaned forward to reach for her briefcase and spied the wet lump of folded clothing on the floor. Joey had forgotten the clothes he’d worn this morning.

  Tempted to tell the driver to turn around and head back to the Hotel Valencia, Sienna instead waited until the car pulled to a halt in front of her home to climb out and point to the ruined suit and soggy boots. “Mr. Ramirez has forgotten his clothes. Would you run them back to the hotel? Might be a good idea to have the valet send them to the hotel laundry rather than delivering them as they are now.” She reached into her briefcase and wrote down an address. “Not sure if the boots can be salvaged, but I know a great place near the Mercado that might be willing to try.”

  As the Jeep departed, Sienna watched longingly. Choosing the chaos of a Montalvo family meal over a night in a fabulous hotel had seemed like a great idea at the time. But with the sound of a Spurs game drifting toward her through the remains of this afternoon’s thunderstorm, Sienna was no longer sure of her decision. Then all three aunts and her niece poured out of the front door heedless of the rain.

  “Where did he go?” Aunt Dolores called.

  “Who?” Sienna called as she determined not to be disappointed that she wasn’t getting the grand reception she’d hoped.

  “Joe,” Auntie Vi said. “That boy, he’s our special guest tonight, no?”

  Sienna shouldered her briefcase then reached for the handle of her rolling suitcase. “No,” she said as she darted through the raindrops toward the porch. “I thought the three of you were mad at him.”

  “Let’s not be unpleasant. Didn’t you tell him I was making my special menudo tonight?” Aunt Consuela whined. “Every good boy whose mama raised him right loves a spicy bowl of menudo.”

  Auntie Vi added her opinion of Auntie Conseula’s cooking skills in loud and emphatic Spanish while Britny merely rolled her eyes and stormed back inside. “Figures I’d come over to this loony bin for nothing,” the teenager muttered.

  Sienna pressed past the disappointed women and swiped her feet on the mat before stepping inside. There the salsa music blared, competing with a Spurs basketball game currently in overtime on Papa’s giant flat-screen television.

  Dina’s husband, Ernie, waved from one end of the recliner sofa. Resplendent in Spurs gear from his hat to his flip-flops, he balanced a plate overflowing with the bounty of the aunties’ cooking.

  “Hey, Sissy,” he called as she hauled her suitcase and her soggy self around his outstretched feet. “Could you grab me a soda and some of that queso while you’re up? And throw a couple peppers on the side.”

  “What kind of welcome is that?” her sister Dina called from the kitchen. “Shame on you, Ernie!”

  Sienna left her bags where she’d stopped and turned her back on her brother-in-law without comment. Around the corner in the kitchen, she found her sister Dina, older by a decade, standing at the counter with mascara running down her tear-stained face and landing in dark puddles on her glitzed and rhinestoned blouse.

  “Dina!” Sienna rushed to her side. “What’s happened?”

  Her sister gestured with the knife in her hand while reaching past Sienna for a handful of tissue to dab at her eyes. “Onions, you goof.”

  “Oh.” She began to laugh, and Dina joined her.

  The chaos that was the trio of aunties who lived upstairs came rolling in along with a loud complaint from Ernie about missing someone’s three-point shot. It all combined with the salsa music blaring on the radio in the windowsill to welcome Sienna home to her favorite place on earth.

  And then the back door flew open and Papa stormed in, silencing the symphony of females without saying a word. He would have made a wonderful director, her papa, for never had she seen a man whose ability to control the entire room with a glance or a lift of his dark brow was so finely honed.

  Papa said it came from his years in the Marine Corps. Sienna suspected he’d been born with it. If Mama weren’t watching from heaven, she would likely have agreed.

  “Where is he?” her father demanded as the crowd parted and Jorge Montalvo took center stage. He turned his attention and his open arms to Sienna. “Baby girl,” he called as if welcoming her back from a hard day at kindergarten.

  She flew into his embrace and rested against his shoulder. He smelled of Brylcreem and Brut, a heady combination that was distinctly her father.

  “Welcome home, Sissy,” he whispered against her ear before holding her at arm’s length. “Now where is that man? That—” He paused as if to consider his words then dove into a less than flattering set of adjectives in Spanish.

  “He’s not here,” Sienna said.

  Papa surprised her by looking disappointed. “Then I suppose I can put away the shotgun I was cleaning on the back porch.”

  Only when Pap finally began to grin did Sienna decide her father had to be teasing. At least she hoped so.

  Chapter 9

  Between the music and the food and assembled crowd, Sienna not only lost track of where she’d put her phone, but she lost the thing altogether. By the time she found it wedged between the cushions of the sofa where she’d endured the Spurs’ heartbreaking loss to the Rockets in overtime then later downed two slices of Auntie Dolores’ tres leches cake, she’d missed four calls and was in danger of missing a fifth.

  “Hello,” she shouted over the sound of the video game blaring on the television.

  “Miss Montalvo?” she thought she heard.

  “Yes.” Sienna climbed over the obstacle course of people and furniture to slip to the quietest spot she could find: the only bathroom in the house. “Yes this is Sienna. Who’s speaking?”

  “Art Kelton.”

  Sienna slammed the door and turned the lock. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Kelton.”

  “Did I interrupt something? A street festival or riot of some sort?”

  She sank onto the only horizontal surface in the room, the toilet seat. “No,” she said. “That’s just my family. They’re a bit—” What was the word? “Boisterous.”

  Someone knocked. She ignored it.

  “All right then,” he said, “get ready to take some notes on tomorrow’s agenda.”

  “Notes?” Panic slammed her as she opened the nearest drawer and began digging through its varied contents. “I, that is, well—”

  Three toothbrushes, a handful of cotton balls, and a bottle of aspirin later, she found what had to be one of the aunties’ red lip liner. “Go ahead,” she managed as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and rose to prepare to write on the bathroom mirror.

  Another knock. Again Sienna ignored it as the producer barked instructions on the other end of the phone.

  “Investor meeting. Got it,” she repeated as the tip broke on the lip pencil. At the same moment, the knocking became an incessant banging. “I’m sorry.” Sienna reached for the bar of Ivory soap on the edge of the sink and touched the corner to the mirror. “Did you say Mi Tierra?”

  “Excellent restaurant, Miss Montalvo,” Mr. Keller said, “but our chief investor prefers La Cocina del Rio. Do you know the place?”

  “Yes, I know it. There’s a nice roof patio with a view of the Riverwalk.”

  “Call them and book the patio then.”

  “Absolutely, sir. And just to be sure there’s a private place should the weather not cooperate, I’ll have Mr. Hernandez save us a nice
section on the second floor in the back.” A thud, much like the sound of a body slamming against the door caused Sienna to jump. “What time again?”

  “Time to get out of the bathroom, Sissy,” her brother-in-law shouted from the other side of the door. “Unless you want to be the one doing the mopping.”

  Sienna thought she heard laughter on the other end of the line, but the pounding on the door combined with the pounding of her heart prevented her from knowing for sure. She dropped the soap into the sink and stormed toward the door. Opening it to give her brother-in-law her sternest look.

  Unfortunately, Ernie barreled past without meeting her stare just as a cheer went up from the video game competitors in the living room. The bathroom door slammed behind her, and Sienna dropped the phone. Scrambling after it, she managed to hear Mr. Kelton call her name.

  “I’m here now,” she said as loudly as she could.

  “Forget it, Miss Montalvo,” the producer said. “I’ll send an e-mail.”

  As the line went dead, Sienna could only hope her career hadn’t ended with that call. She’d missed half of what Mr. Kelton said, and who knows how much she’d misheard? At least I have my notes.

  The door lurched open and, after locating pen and paper, Sienna slid back inside to transcribe the writing she’d left on the mirror.

  Only the mirror had been wiped clean, the evidence of which was smeared on the hand towel beside the sink.

  “Don’t thank me,” Ernie called. “But you really left a mess in there, Sissy.”

  “No!” Sienna sank onto the side of the tub and sat the phone on the tile between her feet then buried her head in her hands. “I’m sunk.”

  Her phone jangled and clattered against the tile, indicating an e-mail had come through. She picked it up and clicked the icon to read Mr. Kelton’s note.

  I’m from a big family, too, so you’re forgiven this one time. Enjoy your night off. Tomorrow you’ll be working, so you’ll stay at the hotel. The car will come for you at 4, so you can do whatever it is women do in order to get ready for an important dinner. Meet in lobby for dinner at 8:30.