Snow Falling by Jane Gloriana Villanueva (11)

Chapter Ten

Ernesto Solvino was a man used to getting what he wanted, and what he seemed to want most of all was a son who could be as ruthless, cunning, and successful as he was. However, Rake was certain that his father thought he was none of those things.

“You say the hotel is doing well?” Ernesto asked and strolled around the room, hands tucked behind him as he appraised the furnishings, his son, and his wife, who lounged on a settee in the sitting area of the suite.

With a dip of his head and a hesitant shrug, Rake said, “It’s holding its own, with a little assistance. The Royal Palm provides some very stiff competition.”

“I know. I’ve stayed there,” his father said, shocking Rake with the admission.

“You’ve been to Miami and stayed at Flagler’s hotel instead of mine?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as he considered his father.

“One always needs to know what the competition is doing.” Ernesto returned to stand before Rake. “I can see that the Regal Sol has potential, but are you the man to take it to the next level?”

Warmth flooded Rake’s cheeks at the less-than-subtle condemnation. He had spent his whole life dealing with his father’s doubt and dismissal, but since discovering Josephine was pregnant, some things had started to change. While he still wanted his father’s approval, he also had realized that first and foremost, he himself had to be happy with all that he had accomplished.

“I am more than capable of doing that, Father.”

Ernesto arched a condemning brow. “Even without your other…businesses? The Regal Sol can only lose money for so long before it pulls you down and you lose everything.”

“I am my father’s son. I will do what needs to be done, but just like you, I understand the risks and what to do to protect myself.” His tone must have made it clear to his father that he was deadly serious.

With a slow decisive nod, Ernesto said, “I guess we’ll see.” His father glanced at his wife. “I’m going for a walk.”

Which in his father’s world meant, “Come with me now.”

Sondra shot him an indulgent smile. “I think I’ll stay and catch up with Rake. It’s been too long since we’ve chatted.”

To Rake’s surprise, Ernesto merely grunted his acquiescence and walked out of the room.

The calm demeanor that Sondra had exhibited when Ernesto was in the room disappeared the moment the door closed behind his back. Rising from the settee, she rushed over to Rake and said, “I really do need to speak with you about your father. There’s something wrong with him.”

During the last few hours since their arrival and the tour he’d given them of the hotel, Rake hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

“He seemed quite fine to me, Sondra.”

“But he’s not fine. At first I thought it was because he was having an affair, because you know how your father can be,” she said.

He did, but it was rich to hear that coming from Sondra of all people. She had been “the other woman” to his father’s third wife. Or was it fourth?

He arched a brow and said, “But you think it’s more than that now?”

“I overheard him talking to his right-hand man. He said that he had to get them the money ‘or else there would be problems.’ Why do you think he came to Miami and stayed at the Royal Palm?”

“I thought he was rather clear as to the why of it, Sondra,” he said and strolled to the dry bar at one side of his suite. He raised the decanter of whiskey, offering it to his father’s wife.

“Yes, thank you,” she said and walked over to take the glass that Rake poured. She downed the liquor in one gulp and gestured for him to refill the glass.

At his questioning look, she said, “You believed that? He was so agitated when he came back to Palm Beach that I was worried he’d get ill. That’s why we had to delay our trip to Miami. To let Ernesto take some time off, not that he did. I’m really worried, Rake.”

As Rake sipped his own whiskey, he considered what Sondra had said and a bit of worry sprung up inside him. His father’s visit to Miami would have been right around the time that Slayton and Rake’s liquor had both disappeared. Not to mention that Ernesto’s return to Palm Beach seemed to coincide with Detective Cadden and his partner being sent there because of a lead on the Sin Sombra case. That was just too much coincidence to ignore.

“I think you’re overreacting, Sondra,” he said, strolled to the chair next to the settee, and sat, trying to maintain a veneer of calm when his gut was roiling with apprehension. He gestured for her to sit once more, but instead she paced back and forth nervously and emptied her second glass of whiskey before pouring herself a third. Only then did she sit, but continued to manically shift her glass from hand to hand.

“Truly, I’m not. What if he’s involved in something criminal again? I had hoped he’d put that all behind him years ago,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He had thought the same as well, but his father had also not been one to pass up an opportunity to make money. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for what he’s been doing. I could ask him if you’d like.”

“Would you?” she said, overdramatically. Come to think of it, most everything about what she’d said and how she’d acted had been a trifle theatrical. As he met her gaze, he detected the shadow of a sly look before she controlled her features and said, “Ask him about Cuba. I overheard him speaking with someone about that right around the same time he was loading a suitcase with a lot of money.”

She laid a hand on Rake’s thigh to emphasize her plea and said, “Please, Rake. I’m really worried.”

Something about that touch made his skin crawl, and he shot to his feet and paced as he thought about Sondra’s worry. His father had asked to borrow the yacht for a quick trip to Cuba in a few days. Although it was going to slow down some deliveries to the North Miami saloons, he had planned to have his crew take advantage of the visit to load up on some fine Cuban rum to sell upon his father’s return.

Facing her, he said, “I already know about the trip, Sondra. My father told me that he’s meeting with some investors about a new hotel on Varadero Beach. If he was trying to hide something—”

“What better than to hide in plain sight, Rake? You have to believe me. I’m worried for his safety,” she urged and took another big gulp of the whiskey.

Since it was clear that Sondra would not be appeased by just his assurances, Rake said, “I will keep an eye on my father to make sure there’s nothing untoward happening.”

She set the almost empty glass on the table before her and, after a beat, slowly pushed to her feet. “Thank you, Rake. I know Ernesto has his doubts about you, but I trust you to take care of this situation.”

It occurred to Rake as he watched Sondra leave that she always managed to find a way to stick a knife in him while couching it with support. It just added to his dislike of the woman and made him wonder what his sister Lucia saw in her.

And thinking of Lucia, he recalled his sister’s words from a few weeks earlier that their father had been secretive and traveling quite a bit. Lucia had worried that it meant he was having an affair, but now with Sondra’s concerns, he was fearful that it might be more. With the seeds of doubt planted in him, he set off to find his father and try to discover just what his father had planned during his upcoming trip to Cuba.

Ah, Cuba. A country celebrating the end of war and the birth of a republic. Cigars, rum, and women with dangerous curves. Although, a man with no shadow might not fare so well under the bright Cuban sun…

Josephine’s shift was just about over when Zara arrived unexpectedly at the concierge desk. Her mother wasn’t due to perform for a few hours, but upon seeing the very serious expression on her face, worry twisted Josephine’s stomach into a knot. “Mami, is something wrong? Did something happen to Abuela?”

“No, mi’ja,” Zara replied and raised shaky hands to hold out an envelope to Josephine.

She recognized Martin’s neat handwriting and the return address of the Palm Beach Pinkerton office. She stared at the envelope as if it were a cobra about to strike. Afraid to take it and suffer its bite, she just looked at it until Zara gave it a little shake and said, “You must read it, Josephine.”

But not now. Not when the bite from that snake would either paralyze her or stop her heart. A heart that was already racing unsteadily as she considered what Martin might have to say. His lack of response over the last several weeks had her worrying that Martin could not forgive her and now this. Did he intend to end things with just a letter?

Uneasily she took the envelope from her mother and tucked it into the wide, deep pocket of her skirt.

“Josephine,” her mother admonished, but she held up a hand to stop her.

“I will read it as soon as my shift is over.”

Zara opened her mouth to speak, and for a few seconds, it flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, but then she shut it tightly. With a grim smile on her face, she said, “I am here for you if you need me, Josephine.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Her mother walked away in the direction of the rotunda where the show would be held later that night on the newly finished stage designed for Ronaldo de la Sera’s troupe. The troublesome entertainer would be arriving the next day, and Josephine was already dreading it. If the man could be so demanding via the incessant notes that a messenger delivered every few days, how much worse would it be once he arrived?

Although she had only another half an hour until the end of her shift, time seemed to stand still. What made it worse was that with it so close to the dinner hour, there were few guests needing assistance to provide some distraction from the letter burning a hole in her pocket. When Mr. Adams finally arrived for the late shift, she hurried off to do one last walk through the dining room and then dashed out to the back path.

Josephine pulled the letter out of her pocket as she walked and ran her hands over the surface of it, as if by doing so she could touch him. She drove away a vision of the hurt and anger on Martin’s face as he’d stormed out and recalled an image of him smiling instead, hoping that the fact that he’d written her at all would bode well for their future.

Gingerly she opened the envelope as she ambled along the path, weaving past patrons strolling on the way to the rotunda and pool area, but she paused as she extracted the letter. When she saw it was addressed to “My dearest darling Josephine,” optimism blossomed in her heart like a lush gardenia offering its petals to the sun.

Excited, she skimmed the first few lines anxiously, and certain phrases jumped out at her, kindling the hope burning in her heart: “my deepest regret,” “hope for our future,” “my darling”…and then, there it was:

Joy spread through her like a wildfire, and she hurried along the path, reading Martin’s missive, unmindful of where she was going. Hope and pleasure filled her as she read of his plans for a life with her and the baby and, even more importantly, that he would soon be returning to Miami.

But how soon? she wondered and turned the letter over to see when it had been mailed. As she peered at the postmark, she saw it was dated five days earlier. Martin would be back within a few days!

Overwhelmed with excitement, she couldn’t resist a little hop of pleasure, only to find herself suddenly flying through the air as she landed on the edge of the Regal Sol’s swimming pool, lost her balance, and went crashing into the chilly water.

The tangle of her sodden skirt and petticoats made it difficult for her to find her footing. She struggled to right herself and bring her head above water, as the weight of her skirt and undergarments kept on pulling her down. Water filled her mouth as her breath escaped her, and she flailed her arms, fighting to reach the surface.

Oh no! Truly it cannot end like this, just when it seems as if our dear Josephine will finally get her heart’s desire!