Catarina woke to her bedroom flooded in indirect light. This was the only suite in the house, with the bathroom, walk-in closet, and seating area to the right and the bedroom itself to the left, including a few windows facing west. The bed sat between the two walls. Through the large, naked panes, the sun’s rays bounced on the pale gray walls and across the white coverlet.
She peeked at the digital clock on the bed side table and groaned at the late hour. Another morning spent in bed. This pregnancy sapped all her energy. She’d never been a morning person, but sleeping past eleven every morning was beyond her own standards. It didn’t help that she’d gotten up twice during the night to go to the bathroom. Once she’d woken with the sounds of a distant piano, but she’d dismissed it as part of a weird dream and had fallen right back to sleep.
Her stomach grumbled, and she slipped a hand over it. At least, she’d remembered to place some Maria crackers in the bedside table drawer, as she’d read somewhere on the internet how it helped stave off nausea. Slowly, she opened the drawer and reached for the package. She took a bite from one and then stopped. How was she going to eat without leaving crumbs on the bed? Leaning over the edge of the bed, Catarina munched for a few minutes, hoping it would be enough. She’d deal with the crumbs on the floor later.
After a moment, she sat gingerly in bed, waiting for her stomach to rebel. When it didn’t, she rose and approached the window overlooking the front yard. She unlatched the lock. Her eyes widened at the change: the sprouted grass was gone, now neatly mowed in a concentric pattern around the circle drive. On the wide lawn past the driveway, alternating rows of mowed grass marked the rectangular area bordering the old garden, which remained the same. But the hedgerows had been trimmed neatly, in wide contrast to the tangled mess of roses.
The new groundskeeper was keeping busy. Maybe Filipe was right and she wouldn’t run into the guy after all.
As she got up to dress for the day, her stomach clenched, and she ran to the en suite bathroom. Fortunately, the vomiting didn’t last long as she’d only had a couple of crackers. She brushed her teeth, then dressed in jeans and a loose top. For the time being, her wardrobe still fit.
Without the sounds of Filipe working on a project or playing music on his phone, the old house was quiet. The caretakers, Dona Madalena and Senhor Francisco, had left yesterday, as they usually did for the weekends. In the past few weeks since she’d arrived at Sunset Manor, Catarina had relied on Filipe to cook until Dona Madalena returned on Mondays. But now Catarina was on her own. The night before she’d fixed a frozen meal for dinner, but she’d barely picked at it. Having a personal chef on hand was one of the luxuries she missed. It was all in the past, and she’d do well to keep it there.
Catarina found clean dishes on the dish rack. The man had been in the kitchen to eat already. She’d heard him climb the stairs on his way to his bedroom in the evening yesterday but still hadn’t seen him since their encounter in the old rose garden. Deep down, she was curious about him but not enough to seek him out. Nothing good would come of it.
Despite her lack of appetite, Catarina drew the carton of milk from the refrigerator and a roll from the freezer. After exactly ten seconds in the microwave, the roll was ready for a pat of butter. Maybe not the most nutritious breakfast, but with a weak stomach, she didn’t dare eat anything heavier. She cut the prenatal vitamin in half and swallowed it carefully.
The vitamin container was fast approaching the one-third mark; she had maybe enough for two more weeks. Catarina sighed. She had to find a doctor in Castelo Branco soon. And after, she’d have to find a way to get there without raising suspicions.
The rest of the day passed too slowly. She’d been relying on Filipe more than she’d noticed, and his absence was harder than she’d predicted. Reading, napping, and watching comedies on Filipe’s tablet only filled part of the time, and the customary walk was out of the question as she didn’t want to risk running into Filipe’s groundskeeper. After rifling through some drawers in the kitchen, she found a lined spiral notebook and a pencil. It would have to do for now. She hadn’t sketched in a while, but her fingers itched for something to do.
By the time she lifted her head from the paper, the sun slanted through the windows and changed the color of the walls into an almost-peach hue. She’d skipped an afternoon snack in favor of a few crackers again, but she’d have to venture downstairs for dinner.
The lights were on in the kitchen, and the most delicious smell permeated the air. Catarina paused to inhale. The smell was robust, full, and with a hint of spice, and her stomach grumbled. On the granite counter in the center island, a table for one had been set at the far end: a full plate, a bottle of dark beer, flatware, and a paper napkin.
There was no one in sight.
When her stomach grumbled one more time, Catarina approached the island where a platter with cubed roasted potatoes and asparagus spears sat to one end. Despite the delicious smell, her weak stomach protested at the sight. How could she be hungry and queasy at the same time?
“You’re welcome to join me for dinner.”
Catarina yelped and jumped back.
A man stood by the glass sliding doors that led to the rear courtyard. The same man she’d seen yesterday.
* * *
The woman’s face turned scarlet. Had she been about to eat the food? She was the one he’d seen by the old rose garden. He walked toward the sink, and she took a step back. Afonso dropped the tongs at the bottom of the sink to be washed later and took the plate with the grilled steaks to the counter. What was she doing in the house anyway?
“Who let you in? Does Filipe know you’re here?”
She frowned and crossed her arms. “Of course Filipe knows I’m here.”
Her attitude and tone were not what he’d expected. She was too sure of herself. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
She looked away for a moment.
“I have an extra steak. Would you like to join me?” He repeated the invitation and motioned toward the plate.
Her cheeks pinked up in her otherwise pale face. “Thank you.”
Was that a yes or a no?
Just in case, he set another place at the counter as she watched him warily. Now that he had a better look, there was something about her that hinted she might still not be feeling well. As pretty as she was, her low weight and fatigued expression had him wondering about her health.
Afonso turned away from her. It wasn’t his job to judge her. Or think about how pretty she was. And he still didn’t know anything about her.
He sat down and motioned for her to serve herself. “I’m Afonso Cortez, by the way. I was hired yesterday.”
“Yes, you’re the new groundskeeper.” She sat, then placed potatoes and two asparagus spears onto her plate.
Afonso slid the bottle of beer in her direction, and she shook her head. “I don’t drink,” she said quickly.
He cut into the steak. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“I came to get something to eat.”
Ironically, she’d barely touched her food. “I don’t mean here in the kitchen. I mean here in the house.” He took a swig from his beer, trying to be less conspicuous in the way he watched her. “So you know my name and what I’m doing here, but all I know about you is that you’re related to the caretakers.”
She glanced in his direction. “Dona Madalena and Senhor Francisco?” Her eyebrows knit together in a show of obvious confusion. “Why would I be related to them? I’m Filipe’s cousin.”
Afonso stopped chewing. “He didn’t mention any cousins. He said there was an old relative—” He stopped. “Are you the widow?”
She straightened in her seat and crossed her arms. “That’s kind of rude to ask point-blank, don’t you think?”
“Are you Filipe’s widowed relative staying in the west wing?”
“I’d rather you don’t refer to me as the widow.”
In his mind, Afonso went through the conversation he’d had with Filipe yesterday. Filipe had never said his relative was an old lady. Afonso had assumed she was old since Filipe had said she was widowed. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
“Catarina.” She glanced at him. “Catarina Romano.”
Afonso shook his head and almost laughed out loud. After the problems aboard the Princess Catarina, he’d had enough of Catarinas to last him a lifetime. And now he was living with one in a remote house.
“Are you laughing at me?” Her tone was decidedly not friendly.
“No.” He was but not for the reasons she thought.
“I just saw you laughing. What do you have against me?”
“Not you in particular.” He hesitated before going on. She’d probably think he was weird. “Just your name.”
“Excuse me?” The incredulity and indignation in her voice were more apparent now.
Afonso shrugged. “The last Catarina I met didn’t bring much luck.” It was an understatement, but he didn’t have to go into details.
“So does this aversion extend to other names or just mine?”
Afonso finished his steak. He was anxious to change the topic. With some luck, maybe she’d move on if he steered the conversation. “So you’re Filipe’s cousin? Are you Matias’ cousin too?” She must be with the Romano last name.
Her expression remained guarded, but there was a hint of curiosity. “You’ve met Matias?”
“I have.” Afonso wondered how much she knew about him. Was she aware the new groundskeeper had come straight from prison?
Afonso busied himself cleaning up while he decided what to do. She didn’t say much and looked to be lost in her own thoughts for a little while, head down on her phone screen. He glanced at her, trying to assess her. What kind of woman was she? Being a Romano didn’t mean she was as understanding as her male cousins. She looked to be a little younger than him, but he’d never been good at guessing a woman’s age. She was pretty, but there was something about her—an uncertainty and sadness in her expression. Maybe it was the grief over her husband’s death at such a young age that caused her to lose her appetite. Mourning and depression had a toll on physical health.
And why did she look so familiar? He was certain he’d seen her before—not at the property, but somewhere else. “Have we met before?” When she scowled, he hurried on to explain. “I don’t mean yesterday, or even here at the manor. Not recently.”
“Is that your version of a pickup line?” Her voice let him know what she thought of it.
“What? No.” This was not going well. He blew out a breath and turned to her. “I don’t know how much Filipe told you about me, but I don’t want to be accused of hiding my past.”
She lifted her head toward him and frowned.
Afonso went on, not giving her a chance to say anything until he was done. “Due to some bad choices, I was in prison for the past few months. But I paid my debt, was released, and I’m not on probation. I’m here to work and do the job your cousin hired me to do. I’ll stay out of your way, if you stay out of mine. It’s a big house, and I’ll be working outdoors most of the time, so I’m sure we can each keep to our own business. Nonetheless, Filipe said if you need anything to let me know.” He walked over to the refrigerator and showed her the magnetic notepad and pen he’d found in a drawer earlier. “You can leave me a note on this pad, and I’ll make sure to check on it. Since I get up early and you don’t, it might be the best way to communicate.”
She jumped to her feet. “Did you just call me lazy?” She stepped away from him, her arms straight at her side and her hands fisted.
This is what he’d feared. Afonso raised his hands. “No, I didn’t call you lazy. I meant that you don’t have to get up early, if you don’t have a reason to. It’s totally up to you.” He grabbed the pad and pen from the refrigerator and set them down on the nearby counter. “You don’t have to use these either. I’m sure you can find me if you need anything.”
She didn’t look any less angry. Maybe it was best not to say anything else tonight.
He walked past her. “Good night.”
She stood in the same spot, arms crossed, watching him guardedly. Afonso made his way to his bedroom.
As long as she didn’t complain to Filipe. Afonso couldn’t lose this job.