Catarina woke up the next morning to the droning sound of the lawn mower on the south side of the house.
Since Afonso’s arrival, the grounds had never looked so well. He’d cleared the deadwood and weeds in the rose garden but still hadn’t pruned the rose bushes. There was so much to do just around the house, she couldn’t even imagine all the work the property required. Filipe had tried to take her on a tour when she first arrived but she hadn’t been interested, what with Juan-Carlos’ funeral still so fresh in her mind. The financial mess that resulted from his death had been just as hard to deal with.
From the window, she could see Afonso on a riding lawn mower, finishing up the last row. He pulled on a lever to stop the blades and drove the mower to the gravel path, then turned it off. Once off the seat, he walked in front of the area as if checking the preciseness of each row he’d just mowed. He was meticulous and took his job seriously. Catarina couldn’t help noticing the way his blue tank top showed off his well-defined upper arms and shoulders. What was his job before being in prison? Or had he worked out while serving his sentence?
She pushed the thought away. It was none of her business how Afonso had occupied his time inside, or how good he looked in that shirt.
When he turned to hop back on the mower, he saw Catarina at the window and waved at her. She raised her hand.
A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Just a minute,” she replied as she hastily pulled on the pink kimono before opening the door.
Afonso stood barefoot in the hallway, and her eyes went to his feet, trying to distract herself from how much better that stupid blue shirt looked on him from up close.
“I didn’t want to track dirt and grass clippings through the house.” His eyes strayed to her collarbone, and he quickly brought them back up. “I saw you’re up. What would you like for breakfast?”
Catarina’s jaw slacked for a moment before she caught herself. “Are you offering to make breakfast for me?”
“Just until you’re feeling better.”
“You didn’t have to interrupt your work and come inside to make me breakfast. I’ll be okay.”
“Well, I’m already here, and I had to refill my water bottle anyway. What would you like?”
“I—I really hadn’t thought about it yet.” She’d been too busy ogling him from the window.
“Scrambled eggs? Oatmeal? Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m not very hungry. I mean, I know I have to eat, but maybe I’ll grab a piece of toast after I take a shower.”
“You need something with more nutrition than a slice of bread. I’ll bring you a tray.”
Before she had the chance to protest, Afonso was halfway down the staircase.
Catarina closed the door. Had she just discussed breakfast with Afonso Cortez at her bedroom door?
After her shower, she found a pair of black yoga pants at the bottom of the wardrobe and a striped button shirt that could use a touch of ironing. She actually needed to spend some time in the laundry room today. No laundry maids in this house.
She rolled up the sleeves and untucked the shirt. Her hands smoothed down the front and stopped on her belly. For the time being, it was still flat, but soon she’d start showing and she’d need to buy maternity clothes.
Maybe if she hurried she could still catch Afonso before he brought the tray up from the kitchen.
When she opened the door, the breakfast tray sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the hallway in front of her room.
It was a simple breakfast, but he’d definitely put some thought into it—a scrambled egg with a side of fresh cheese, a small bowl of oatmeal with a sliced banana, sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon. For drinking, a tall glass of orange juice and a glass of milk.
Catarina carried the tray inside and set it on the bed, then dragged the chair in. She transferred the tray to the chair and sat at the edge of the bed.
There was a note on the tray, and she read it while eating the egg.
Hope you like eggs and oatmeal. If not, let me know what you prefer next time.
Next time, she’d make her own breakfast.
This is my cell number. Text me when you’re ready for lunch. His number followed. She still had the paper with his number that he’d given her at the hospital. Maybe he thought she didn’t have it anymore.
The eggs were perfect, especially with the fresh cheese. She’d never tried the combination before, but she liked it. She usually preferred blueberries on oatmeal—a habit learned from Juan-Carlos—but the brown sugar with cinnamon and banana went really well. In the end, she ate more than she thought she would.
Had Afonso worked as a chef? How did he know to cook so well?
Thankfully, she’d remembered to take the anti-nausea pill and was able to keep down the breakfast.
Afterward, she picked up her phone and typed a text to Afonso.
Thanks for breakfast.
He replied almost immediately. You’re welcome. Hope it was okay.
It was great. But I don’t expect you to cook for me. That’s not what Filipe hired you for. You won’t need to come in to make lunch.
I’ll be coming in to make lunch for myself. You’re welcome to join me. See you then.
Catarina stared at the screen. Was he always like this?
She took the tray to the kitchen and washed the dishes. That was the least she could do.
The laundry room stood on the other side of the kitchen, opposite the butler’s pantry. She found everything she’d need to wash, dry, and iron—even a dryer and a steaming machine—and returned to the bedroom for her dirty clothes. On the floor, the lined notebook and pencil peeked from under the bed, and she placed them on top of the basket.
For all the updates Filipe had done to the house, a laundry room on the ground floor was not enough. Not wanting to climb the staircase again while the first load washed, Catarina walked around the ground floor until she found a sofa in the old library and plopped down on it. Why hadn’t Filipe furnished the house yet? The library was almost as far from the laundry room as it was from her bedroom, but at least she didn’t have to negotiate the grand staircase.
The pencil was hard and the paper too cheap, but she drew a perspective of the library with the bookcase full of old books, the fireplace lit, and a shaggy dog sleeping in front of it. She cocked her head. The angles were off. When was the last time she’d sketched? She couldn’t even remember.
When she stood to place the second load in the dryer, the door to the courtyard opened and closed and a set of quick steps sounded across the tiled floor. Catarina walked to the kitchen, where she found Afonso at the sink.
He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and frowned at her. “You’re down here.”
Catarina pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “I had to do some laundry.”
“Are you feeling strong enough for that?”
“As long as I’m careful going up and down the stairs.”
He pulled out a pot from the lower cupboard. “I’ll have lunch ready soon. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“I’ll stay, if you don’t mind. I still have a load in the dryer.”
He popped into the pantry for a moment and came out with a large onion in his hand. “I was surprised to find a dryer in the laundry room, but I must admit it’s very convenient.”
While the whole country still dried clothes on the line, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Juan-Carlos had dryers in all the houses and apartments, even though he left the laundry to be done by the maids.
For the next few minutes, Afonso entered and exited the pantry as he gathered ingredients for whatever he had planned to make for lunch.
She had so many questions. The man intrigued her, more than anyone had in a long time. As she watched him capably navigating the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder who he really was, what he did.
Afonso gave the pan a stir and glanced at Catarina. “If you want to know anything about me, just ask, Catarina. I’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t lie, and I don’t keep secrets.”
Was it so obvious that she had questions, or was he a mind reader?
He reached out a hand to the spice rack and unscrewed the cap from a small bottle. Then he brought it to his nose and took a whiff. An eyebrow went up, and his expression brightened with satisfaction as he poured some of the spice in his palm and added it to the dish.
She watched him quietly for a moment. Lies came easy to her, and secrets were a way of life. “Do you hold every one by the same standards?”
“Not anymore. I learned my lesson the hard way.”
He held her gaze, and Catarina found herself unable to look away. The expression in his brown eyes was assured and unmistakable. When was the last time she’d seen such openess in a man? Her dad and brothers, for sure, and the rest of the Romano men. But it had been a while since she’d been around them, or any of the family. The regret gnawed at her. She had so much to make up for. Deceit had been a normal way of life for so long that she barely remembered what honesty looked like in a man.
Did he truly not mind her curiosity?
* * *
Afonso regarded Catarina seated to his right at the corner of the bar.
She had questions.
He’d served a simple meal of boiled potatoes and broiled fish on a bed of sautéed onions, accompanied with a salad, something that had been quick to prepare but still provided good nutrition. She’d barely eaten anything, claiming she was still full from the large breakfast. He didn’t know what she looked like in full health, but her face was still pale, making him wonder how recovered she was from whatever had made her so sick over the weekend.
What was Catarina’s story? Why was she staying at Sunset Manor? The questions kept coming back to him.
As curious as he was about her, Afonso wouldn’t let it show. Her eyes were too guarded, as if she feared someone getting too close and finding too much.
After discussing the merits of broiled fish over fried, he set the fork down. “I’m sure my broiling techniques are fascinating, but I can tell you have questions that are not related to how I cook fish.”
His comment brought a pale smile to her lips. She took a bite and then rested the utensils on the edge of the plate. Even with his permission, she still hesitated.
“I meant what I said. You can ask me anything,” he repeated.
At last, she raised her eyes to him. “What happened?”
Afonso pushed his plate away and sat back. “You mean, what happened to land me in jail?”
A light blush tinted her cheeks, and she nodded, tucking away her hair behind her ear.
“I was too naïve.” An understatement. “I chose to believe the words of a woman who hadn’t given me any reason to.” He let out a long breath. “I guess I fancied myself in love with her and developed some warped sense of loyalty. When I found out what she intended to do, I kept quiet and didn’t warn anyone of her plans, didn’t do anything to stop her. Her actions caused damage and put the lives of one hundred and seventy people in danger.” To this day, the gross lapse of judgment he suffered during that last cruise aboard the Princess Catarina still made him angry. He’d fallen so fast for Anabela Rialto’s words. “She ditched me at the first chance, and luckily I came to my senses and turned myself in within two days.”
“And you were tried?”
“Tried and sentenced to nine months, but I got out in five for good behavior.” The longest five months of his life.
“And what happened to this woman?”
“Still at large. They haven’t been able to find her.” She deserved to be put away for what she’d done, but it wasn’t up to him anymore. He was done with Anabela in his life.
“If I hadn’t kept the secrets I knew, I could have prevented the whole thing.” Lies never brought anything good. “When I got out, Captain Romano gave me this chance, and I took it.”
Catarina straightened in her seat. “Captain Romano? One of my cousins?”
“Yes, Matias Romano. I worked with him aboard the Princess Catarina.”
“Oh.” Her expression sobered. “That’s how you know Matias.”
Afonso shrugged. “I wasn’t very lucky with that Catarina, but it was partly my fault.”
“Catarina wasn’t a woman. It was a boat.”
“A river cruise ship that your cousin captains.”
“And he told you Filipe was hiring a groundskeeper to tend a property in the middle of nowhere.”
He nodded. “Exactly what I needed.”
“A place to start over,” she said.
“Is that what Sunset Manor means to you too?”
Catarina’s expression turned guarded immediately.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Just because he’d wanted to tell her about his past, didn’t mean she wanted to tell him about hers.
She stood from the bar and took her plate to the sink. “I better finish my laundry. Thank you for lunch.”
She’d picked around her plate, but hopefully the little she’d eaten was enough.
“You’re welcome. I’ll be at the north end of the property this afternoon, but I have my phone with me if you need anything.”
“I’ll be okay.” She stopped at the door to the laundry room. “How big is it?”
He frowned. “How big is what?”
“The property. Filipe tried to take me on a tour when I arrived, but I wasn’t much in the mood for it back then.”
Having just buried her husband, he could understand why.
“The immediate grounds around the house comprise five hectares, with another ten suitable for farming or ranching.”
Her eyes rounded. “I had no idea it was this large.”
“I can take you on a tour if you want.”
She stared back at him, and Afonso regretted the invitation. Of course she didn’t want to go with him. “Or you can wait for Filipe next time he comes.”
“He’s too busy with his new project. I’d like to go but—do we have to walk?”
“There’s an all-terrain vehicle, a four-wheel drive. It seats two people.”
“I’d love to go then,” she said at last.
Afonso nodded. “After dinner, when the weather is cooler.” It had been unseasonably warm for late spring.
“Okay.” She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned and left the room.
Afonso gathered the few dishes in the sink, filled it with water, and added a squirt of detergent.
Had he really offered to take Catarina on a tour of the property? She’d surprised him by saying yes.
What if it turned out to be a bad idea?
Maybe he shouldn’t be looking forward to it so much.