Best Kept Secrets (26 page)

She’d learned as a young girl how to charm, flirt with and seduce the opposite sex. She charmed the men and boys in her family, and flirted shamelessly with those who weren’t, stopping only when it came to relinquishing her virginity. That she would save for the man whom she planned to marry.

“I’ll make certain to keep that in mind,” Samuel said after a noticeable pause. He walked over, picked up the telephone
and dialed a number, hoping to contact his chauffeur, who hung out at a nearby social club where the members came and went, playing cards and checkers. A voice he didn’t recognize answered the phone. Samuel identified himself, then asked for Eddie Grady, who answered the call within seconds.

“Eddie, I need you to bring the car around and take Miss Maldonado home. Once you return I’ll be ready to leave.”

He ended the call, then reached into a pocket in his trousers and withdrew a money clip. Peeling off a twenty-dollar gold note, he handed it to Teresa. “Thank you.”

She stared at the bill as if it were a venomous reptile. Samuel was offering her more than she earned in a week. “It’s too much.”

Reaching for her hand, Samuel placed the money on her palm, forcibly closing her fingers over it. “You’re worth a lot more. Now take it and go. Mr. Grady is waiting downstairs to drive you home.”

Teresa successfully curbed the urge to throw her arms around Samuel’s neck, pull his head down and kiss him. She lowered her lashes in a demure gesture. “Thank you, Samuel.”

“You’re quite welcome, Teresa.”

She watched as he sat down while she stood paralyzed, transfixed by the man who’d occupied her every waking moment.

His head came up and he stared at her, brow furrowing. “Is there something else you want?”

The sound of his soft, drawling voice shattered the spell. She wanted to scream,
Yes, Samuel, there is something else. I want you.
Teresa shook her head. “No. Good night, Samuel.”

“Good night.”

When he lowered his head again, Teresa went to retrieve her pocketbook. She planned to give the twenty dollars to her mother so she could buy something pretty to wear. Silvia Maldonado made all of her family’s clothes, and it was on a rare occasion that she purchased a store-bought garment.

Her footsteps were muffled in the reception area as she
closed the self-locking front door behind her and skipped down the staircase to the street level. Parked several doors away was Samuel’s gleaming black Duesenberg. His chauffeur leaned against the rear bumper, waiting for her. She believed Eddie Grady had the easiest job of anyone at ColeDiz. All he had to do was drive his boss whenever and wherever he instructed him. Eddie straightened and opened the rear door for her.

She settled onto the soft leather seat, the lingering scent of Samuel’s cologne enveloping her in a cocoon of longing. Sinking lower, she closed her eyes. The image of her and Samuel sitting together in the backseat made her smile.

“Where to, Miss Maldonado?”

Her eyes opened quickly. She gave him her address. “Do you know where that is?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

A hint of a smile curved her mouth. Eddie had called her “ma’am” as if she
were
Mrs. Cole. Her smile faded quickly, replaced with an expression that paled her eyes. Marguerite Cole. Oh, how she hated the woman who’d clung to Samuel’s arm while smiling at him with the adoring look on her too-perfect face. Everything about Marguerite was perfect: flawless complexion, shiny black hair, manicured hands and a tiny waist that belied her claim of birthing two children.

Teresa’s eyelids fluttered wildly before they closed. The pictures in her head came back, more vivid than before. She would be every inch the grand lady in a suit designed by Coco Chanel. Strands of luxurious pearls graced her neck, and brilliant jewels bedecked her wrists and fingers. Her magnificent diamond engagement ring would surpass the one on Marguerite’s hand by several carats.

Her eyes opened and she stared at the back of Eddie’s head. She couldn’t wait for the day when Samuel had to tell the
puta
that he no longer wanted her, that he didn’t love her, and all the money in the world wouldn’t make him stay.

Teresa felt as if she were falling, deeper and deeper, into a world wherein all of her wishes were granted just by asking. She wanted to marry Samuel, have his babies, and like the princesses in fairy tales—live happily ever after.

“Miss Maldonado. Wake up, Miss Maldonado. You’re home.”

Teresa came awake. She’d dozed off. She must have been more tired than she realized. Eddie held the door open for her. Extending a hand, he helped her out. A triumphant grin crinkled her luminous eyes when she saw the number of people coming out of their homes to stare at her getting out of the luxury motorcar.

“Thank you, Mr. Grady.”

He touched the shiny brim of his black cap. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”

Amusement lit up her face. “You, too, Mr. Grady.”

Turning on her heel, she walked slowly toward her house where her mother, father and two younger brothers stood together on the porch, eyes wide and mouths gaping. They parted as if she were a queen and in single file followed her into the house.

“Where have you been?”

“What were you doing in that car?”

Her father and mother were questioning her as if she had done something wrong. “Mr. Cole asked me to work late, so he had his driver bring me home.” She opened her pocketbook and thrust the gold note at her father. “He also gave me this.”

Ramon did not move. He just stared at the money. Choking sounds came from Silvia Maldonado before she managed to say, “He gave you
that?
”

Teresa smiled.
“Sí, Mami.”

“But it is so much money.”

“That’s because Mr. Cole has a lot of money. Take it,
Mami
,” Teresa urged, “and buy something pretty for yourself. When was the last time you had a new dress?”

Silvia looked at her husband, who nodded his approval. “
Mil gracias
, Teresa.”

She kissed her mother, then her father. “I’m going to my room.”

“Don’t you want to eat?” Silvia asked. “I made your favorite—
ropa vieja
.”

Teresa shook her head. “I’m not hungry,
Mami
.”

“I will put it in the icebox. You can eat it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said over her shoulder as she made her way toward her bedroom. She wanted to be alone and relive the time she’d spent with Samuel, replay their conversation, rehearse what she would say to him the next time they were alone together.

Latching her bedroom door to keep her twelve-and fourteen-year-old brothers from barging in, Teresa lowered the shades to keep out prying eyes. She hadn’t turned on a lamp, preferring to undress in the dark.

Undressing had become a nightly ritual, beginning with her hair. Instead of the usual pins, tonight it was only a ribbon keeping the flaxen waves in place. She untied the ribbon and shook out her hair. With her glittering green eyes and pale hair she looked like a lioness.

Her shoes were next, followed by her blouse. Her fingers never faltered as each button slipped smoothly from its fastening. There were more buttons—two on her skirt’s waistband and eight along the left side of the hem. Off came a pair of garters, silk stockings, slip, chemise and underpants.

Stepping away from the pile of discarded clothes, Teresa walked over to her bed and lay atop the cool sheets. She cupped her breasts and closed her eyes.

Her breathing deepened, her chest rising and falling in a measured rhythm. It was only in the privacy of her bedroom, behind a locked door, that she ceased to be Teresa Maldonado. She became whoever she wanted to be, and for the past two months she was Mrs. Samuel Cole.

It was she, not Marguerite, who woke up beside Samuel, sat
across the dinner table from him, attended civic and social dinner parties on his arm, and nursed their babies.

Her hands inched down her body to the area between her thighs. Parting her knees, Teresa massaged the swollen nub until her hips lifted off the mattress. Applying pressure with her fingertips, around and around, faster and faster, she pleasured herself until she convulsed. Then she lay motionless—spent.

A smile spread over her moist face as she closed her eyes. “I love you, Samuel.” It was only in the dark, behind a locked door, that she felt completely free—free enough to live out her fantasies.

“T
eresa, open the door!”

“Go away, Jesus!”

“No! There is a man here for you.”

Teresa sat up, splashing water over the sides of the bathtub. “What man?” she asked her younger brother.

“I don’t remember his name. He is driving the same car that came yesterday.”

“Let him know I’ll be out soon.” A flicker of concern wrinkled her brow. Why had Eddie Grady come to her home on her day off?

“Should I tell him to wait, Teresa?”

“
Sí,
Jesus!” she shouted.
“Estupido!”
she whispered under
her breath. Her father accused Jesus of having
caca,
or shit, for brains, and this was one time she was forced to agree. The twelve-year-old could not remember anything. His teachers always sent home notes saying that Jesus was smart, but that he daydreamed in class.

Teresa stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel. Even though Ramon and Silvia did not say it often, she knew they were proud of their children. Though they were Cuban immigrants who spoke no English, their U.S.-born children were going to have a piece of the American dream. She had graduated from high school and was now studying for a nursing degree, fourteen-year-old Pedro excelled in his studies and in school sports, while Jesus, lost in his own world of fantasy, was a top math and science student.

After drying her body, she dusted it with a scented powder she’d bought from a local store that sold everything from canned foods to meat. She’d been drawn to a small section where a shelf was crowded with tubes of lipstick, face powder and fragrances. She’d wanted to purchase a bottle of cologne, but felt the body powder would last longer than the liquid.

Not bothering to run a comb through her damp hair or putting on shoes, she pulled a flower-sprigged cotton dress over her underwear. Unlocking the bathroom door, Teresa walked on bare feet to the living room.

Samuel sat on a chair in the Maldonado living room, staring at the pattern on the threadbare rug under his feet. The air inside the small house was stifling.

“My sister said to wait for her.”

He glanced up and smiled at the young boy with hair the color of wet straw. “Thank you.”

Samuel wanted to tell Teresa’s brother that he would wait on the front porch, but did not want to appear discourteous. Moisture had formed on his upper lip and under his armpits.

His gaze shifted to a photograph. The photographer had captured a gelatin silver print of a couple in their wedding finery. Peering closer, he realized the man and woman were Teresa’s parents. She’d inherited her father’s eyes and hair.

“Samuel?”

He sprang to his feet, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Teresa stood less than six feet away, her feet bare, damp hair falling around her face and glowing green eyes filled with unanswered questions. His gaze moved from her face to her chest. Light coming in through a window behind her showed the outline of her body through her dress. The faded cotton fabric had been washed so many times that it was almost transparent. He forced himself to look away, but it was too late. The flesh between his legs stirred as if rising from a long slumber. Shifting slightly so she wouldn’t be able to see his erection, Samuel cleared his throat.

“May I speak to you…outside…on the porch?”

Teresa nodded as if she were a mute. And at that moment she couldn’t speak. When she’d left the bathroom she’d expected to see the ColeDiz chauffeur, not the company’s president.

“I…I need to put on my shoes.” She needed not only her shoes, but also a slip.

Turning, she walked to her bedroom, her heart beating a rhythm that made her feel light-headed. “What is he doing here?” she asked the door after she’d closed it behind her.

After she’d touched herself again earlier that morning, bringing herself to completion, she’d lain in bed fantasizing it was Samuel’s hands and his hardness that made her feel things so wonderful that she never wanted to leave his side.

Opening a drawer in a highboy, Teresa took out a slip. There was no doubt she would become the talk of their neighborhood if anyone saw her talking to a strange man wearing a well-worn dress and no undergarments.

She put on the slip, ran a comb through her hair and slipped
into a pair of sandals. Opening the door, she saw Jesus. “Stay here,” she ordered as he attempted to follow her. Teresa ruffled his coarse hair and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

This time when she stepped out onto the porch she was better prepared for Samuel Cole. He’d removed his suit jacket; his shirt was pasted to his chest and back; she knew why he wanted to talk on the porch. His house, with ceilings rising upward to twenty feet, was cool and comfortable, whereas hers retained the heat for days whenever she or her mother used the oven. Now she understood why some Cuban homes were constructed with separate kitchens.

Her face flushed with humiliation, Teresa stared up at him staring down at her. The longer Samuel looked at her, the more uncomfortable she became. The color in her face drained slowly when a silent voice said,
He’s going to fire you
.

Would he let her go because she’d been too forward? Had he rethought his decision to allow her to address him by his given name? Had he figured out that she’d flirted with him, and as a married man he would not tolerate her brazen behavior?

“You’ve come to fire me.” Her question was a statement.

Standing on the porch waiting for Teresa helped Samuel regain control of his body. He did not know what it was about her that elicited the unexpected physical reaction.

The sound of her husky voice shattered his reverie. “You believe I’ve come here to fire you?”

Tears sparkled in Teresa’s eyes before she shuttered her gaze from Samuel’s startled one. “Yes.”

She could not imagine not working at ColeDiz, not waking up on Mondays, Wednesday or Fridays and going into the office just to catch a glimpse of him. She would work for no money if it meant being close to Samuel Cole.

Samuel took a step, leaving less than a foot between them. He curbed an urge to reach out and touch Teresa because she appeared so fragile, so very vulnerable. “Now why would I do that when I need you?”

Her eyes opened, moisture spiking her lashes. “What?”

Lowering his head, Samuel said softly, “I came here to ask you if you can put in a few more hours.”

She clapped her hands as would a small child, threw back her head and laughed, the sound bubbling with the joy that had replaced the sadness in her eyes. “You…you want me to work with you?”

Shaking his head in amusement, Samuel affected a wide grin. “Yes, Teresa.” He sobered quickly when he remembered why he was standing on the Maldonado porch. “I need you to fill in for Mrs. Harris.”

“Why?”

“She has a family emergency in Arkansas that required her immediate attention. Eddie went with her.”

Nora Harris had woken him with the news that her son had been shot in the head by revenue agents. He lay unconscious in a prison hospital close to death. He’d been arrested along with several cousins, who’d also been shot, but their wounds were superficial in nature.

“You want me to do what Mrs. Harris does?”

“I need you to cover the office, Teresa. I need you to work five days instead of three. Let me know if you’re available. Otherwise I’ll try to find someone else.”

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “Please don’t look for someone. I’ll do it.”

He lowered his head and his voice. “Are you sure, Teresa?”

She tingled as he said her name. Samuel was so compelling, his magnetism so potent, that she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. An enchanting smile parted her full, lush lips.

“Very sure, Samuel. When do you want me to come in?”

“Now.”

“Now?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Ah…oh. I have to change my clothes. I have to let my
brothers know I’m leaving. Then I have to leave a note for my parents.” She was rambling, but she didn’t much care. Her wish had been answered. She was going to see Samuel—every day.

She turned to go back into the house, but Samuel caught her upper arm in a firm grip. “I’ll adjust your pay for the extra time, and if you have to work beyond six, then I’ll bring you home.”

Teresa suffered the warm hand on her bare skin. There was nothing sexual in his touch, but her body refused to listen to the dictates of her brain. She jerked her arm away. “I have to get dressed.”

The screen door opened, closed, slamming loudly against its frame. One minute Teresa was there; then she was gone, and for a reason Samuel could not fathom, he missed her. He missed her moonlit hair falling in sensual disarray around her perpetually tanned face, missed the mysterious glow in her incredible eyes and her sweet musky feminine scent that lingered in his nostrils long after she’d disappeared.

Folding his body down to a rocker, Samuel stretched out his legs and waited for the woman whose effect on him was puzzling. She was the complete opposite of M.J. His wife was tall, slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed, where Teresa was petite, fair-haired, light-eyed, and with a lush body that was undeniably feminine.

They were so different, yet their physical impact on him was the same. He knew he had to be careful, very, very careful around Teresa now that they would be spending more time together.

“Am I going too fast for you?”

Teresa gave Samuel a sidelong glance. “No.”

He’d been reading and dictating telegrams for nearly five hours. He was trying to avoid making a trip to Puerto Rico. A hurricane had swept the island, causing extensive damage to one of his two coffee plantations. His island representative was urging him to come and survey the damage.

Leaning back in his chair, he focused on the wall plaques. Most of them honored ColeDiz International, Ltd., for its contribution to various civic and social organizations. His company was solvent, he’d achieved the rank of a multimillionaire, and the company still did not list one domestic holding. Whether it was Oklahoma, Kentucky or Texas, racial inequality continued throughout the U.S. The NAACP had reported that the lynching of nine Negroes in 1928 was the lowest figure in forty years. They were one-third into the twentieth century and his people were still being hanged from trees.

“As at your urging,” he continued, “I will see you early next week. I remain, Samuel.” He smothered a groan. Everett was still in Costa Rica, which meant he
had
to go to Puerto Rico. “Please make certain to get this to the telegraph office before they close today,” he told Teresa.

“Yes, Samuel.”

She pushed her pencil into the bun she’d pinned up on the back of her head, and left to transcribe and type the cablegrams. Samuel stared at her retreating back. She was back to the severe, old-fashioned hairstyle.

It was their third day working together, and to his surprise he got along better with Teresa than he did with Mrs. Harris, who tended to question him even when he didn’t solicit her opinion. Perhaps it was the age difference that made the older woman assume the stance, but it had not been that way with Teresa.

She came in early and stayed beyond her quitting time. Samuel paid for her lunch and drove her home. Their relationship was one of employer and employee, and nothing more.

He picked up the telephone and dialed his home. The connection was broken after the fourth ring. “Cole residence.”

“I’d like to speak to Mrs. Cole,” he whispered into the mouthpiece.

“This is Mrs. Cole.”

“Mrs. Cole, this is your secret admirer. Perhaps I can interest you in having dinner with me in the garden this evening.”

A soft laugh came through the earpiece. “That all depends on who my secret admirer is,” M.J. crooned, playing along with him.

“Accept my invitation and you’ll find out who he is.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay. What time do you want to meet?”

Samuel glanced at the clock on a corner of his desk. “Is seven-thirty too early?”

“Make it eight and you’re on.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at eight.”

M.J. could not get used to eating dinner before eight o’clock. The evening meal in Cuba usually began at that time, or sometimes as late as ten. He made it a practice to ready himself for bed at ten.

He was still a farmer—early to bed and early to rise.

Samuel maneuvered along the unpaved road to the house where Teresa lived with her family in a racially mixed community of poor whites, Negroes and several immigrant Cuban families. The many small children, who attended segregated schools, played with one another without regard to race. Their parents, on the other hand, all worked at a local cotton mill.

“It looks as if you’ve become quite a celebrity,” he said in a quiet tone as he stopped in front of her house. People were gathering on their porches just to watch Teresa Maldonado get out of his car.

Teresa angled her head, lowered her eyelids and affected a pose that reminded Samuel of a Hollywood actress. “Thank you, darlings, for your applause.” Lowering her sultry voice to a throaty growl, she’d affected a Spanish accent.

Resting his right arm over the back of her seat, Samuel chuckled. “You are incredible.”

Her mood changed like quicksilver. She went completely still, smile fading. “Am I, Samuel?”

“Are you what?”

Their gazes met, and a shock raced through Teresa. She was going to ruin it. Other than her calling Samuel by his name, nothing had changed between them since she’d begun filling in for Mrs. Harris. She and Samuel spent hours together, alone, yet she could not summon up enough nerve to seduce him.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. She didn’t wait for Samuel to get out and come around to open her door.

Dozens of eyes followed her until she opened the door to her home and disappeared inside. They whispered softly amongst themselves before dispersing. Most were curious as to why this time the tall man hadn’t gotten out of his car to assist Ramon and Silvia’s daughter.

Samuel waited a full minute before he shifted into Reverse and backed slowly away from Teresa’s house. It was obvious he’d said something that had disturbed her, and by the time he maneuvered into an expansive garage, parking next to M.J.’s car, he still hadn’t come up with an answer as to her abrupt change in attitude.