Santiago Sol (12 page)

Sebastian thought of Eva, who had forgiven those who had wronged her family.

In her memoir, Pinochet’s lackeys were little more than an afterthought. With more right to carry a grudge than anyone, his grandmother chose to release her trespassers.

His gut clenched. He wanted to meet her. And he wanted Tansy by his side when he did. If she ever condescended to speak to him again. “How long until this is taken care of?” he asked.

“I have men headed to the hospital and to your uncle’s home now. We should have them both in custody before the night is out.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Sebastian replied.

“And just so you know. I checked into Miss Chastain’s story personally. There is no record of her, or Eva St. John, ever collaborating in any way with the Vargas family. I thought that knowledge might ease your mind.”

Sebastian sat very still. Somewhere in his heart he’d known that was true all along, but hearing the ambassador confirm it was still a relief. He shook the man’s hand and got out of the limo.

The windows of the apartment where Tansy was had gone dark. He scrubbed his face with his hands.
Lord, please let her give me another chance.

When his phone rang, he jerked it from his pocket, desperately hoping Tansy was calling him, and answered on the second ring.

“This is Toulouse. I saw you pull up. Listen, Tansy knows who you are, and she doesn’t want to talk to you. I don’t blame her. But, she wants to meet your grandfather before she heads home. Can you fix something up?”

“Hello again, Toulouse. And how is your dog?”

He heard a resigned sigh. “Only slightly better behaved, I’m afraid. I did get my own apartment after that party.”

“Probably for the best.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Why does Tansy want to meet my grandfather?”

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me. In my opinion, you’re all crazy.”

“Is she still there with you?”

He heard the hesitation before she answered and wondered if she were communicating silently with Tansy. “Yes, but she doesn’t want to talk to you. You messed up, big time.”

Sebastian sighed. “Don’t I know it.” He tugged his fingers through his tangled hair. “Fine. I’ll arrange a meeting, but it will be on my terms. My abuelo is not well. He goes to the shop every day, does his work, and goes home, but the arthritis in his legs and hips is getting to him.”

“Tansy told me about the artesanal.”

The back of his neck prickled, recalling the kiss he and Tansy had shared and the electric connection he'd felt. Then he suppressed a groan. Taking her to the artesanal was yet another layer of deception he had to explain to Tansy. “Tansy already met my abuelo at Los Dominicos. It’s an old game we play, my abuelo and me. When I meet a woman I think I might be serious about, I take her to meet my grandfather and get his opinion.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m not kidding. He gave her one of his handmade journals. To the best of my knowledge, my mother was the last woman he gave one to.”

Toulouse snickered. "Well, if that isn't a sign of his approval, I don't know what is."

Sebastian ignored her, irritated that she was reading more into his grandfather’s actions than Sebastian was willing to acknowledge. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to her explain how God worked in mysterious ways. “Can I call you at this number?”

She mumbled her assent, and he ended the call. One by one he unclenched his cramped fingers from around the phone, and then added the number to his contact list.

He would come up with a way to explain everything to Tansy. And, he prayed, she would be willing to hear him out.

****

Tansy stared at Toulouse, frowning at her friend’s spurts of laughter.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. It isn’t funny,” Tansy finally said. The speaker had been on during Toulouse’s conversation with Sebastian.

“Maybe not,” Toulouse said. “But I can laugh, or I can cry. Since I still believe in God’s mercy, and His sense of humor, I choose to laugh.”

“There’s nothing funny about this. There’s lying, and possibly murder, at least attempted murder...” Tansy balled her fists and pressed them into the bedclothes, torn between hot humiliation and violent rage. The revelation that the kindly gentleman from the artesanal was Eduardo Sandoval, the rightful owner of the walking stick, had stunned her. That Sebastian was in the habit of taking women he was “serious” about to meet his grandfather for approval—and had taken her there, presumably for the same purpose—sent a hot, tingling flush of pleasure over her face and neck. But it wasn’t as if Sebastian was genuinely interested in her. He’d just been playing a game.

“And lying!” she repeated. She snatched up a throw pillow and flung it across the room, where it bounced harmlessly off a dresser. Then, embarrassed by her outburst, she scrambled off the bed, picked up the pillow, and clutched it to her chest.

Toulouse didn’t react to Tansy’s behavior, continuing on with her theories as if Tansy had said nothing. “And there’s the fact you and Sebastian were seated next to each other on the plane, totally by accident. And there’s the elusive pickpocket, and the fact Sebastian came back to rescue you, like he doesn’t have an international business to run, and then the two of you wind up ‘coincidentally’ in the very church his grandparents helped to plant...” Toulouse unfolded her slender limbs and stood. “There’s so much God-stuff going on in this little story. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

“So you’re saying everything that happens is for a reason?”

Toulouse looked at her. “There’s always a reason, Tansy. Some things are God’s will; others are the result of bad decisions made by human beings; some are a crazy combination of both...I believe God is at work in and through His children for good, even when their choices and the decisions of the people around them thwart His will.” Toulouse set the phone on the bedside table.

Tansy cleared her throat. “I guess—”

“The point is, you can’t always be looking backward. Your future is ahead of you, not in your past. Eva figured that out.”

12

Sebastian jerked awake, his hand on his mother’s diary. He’d lost both his parents. His own foolishness had driven a wedge, possibly a permanent one, between him and the first woman he’d ever lost his heart to. He’d failed to find the walking stick to satisfy his grandfather, and he not only wasn’t married, he had no intention of getting married unless his bride was Tansy Chastain, and that wasn’t likely to happen.

He thought of his mother’s barren, lonely grave. She’d yielded to the grief and despair that tugged at him even now. But he wouldn’t yield. Wouldn’t give up. Not as long as life still coursed through his veins. He glanced at the creamy invitation to his own birthday party.

His birthday. Birthdays were a perfect opportunity to start over, to make things right. And his grandfather would be there to hear it all. And, if Sebastian had his way, so would Tansy.

He called Ben first and explained the situation.

“You need me to drive you to the villa?”

“No, I want you to pick up Tansy and Toulouse. I’ll drive myself. But Ben?”

“Yes, Señor?”

“I covet your prayers.”

“You have them, Señor. God can bring to completion the good works He has begun. In spite of us.”

“I hope you’re right.”

It was painfully early in the morning, but Sebastian called Toulouse anyway.

****

Tansy flinched and rolled over. She pulled the pillow over her head to drown out the cheery ringtone. She peeked out when the noise stopped.

“Talk to him.” Toulouse extended the phone toward Tansy.

Tansy groaned, but complied. She waited for Toulouse to leave the bedroom and then said, “I don’t want to talk to you, Sebastian.”

“I know you don’t. But I’m asking you to give me a chance. I want you to come to a party tonight. I’ll explain everything then.”

Tansy clearly heard the rasp of his hand against his stubbled jaw.

“Today is the day I was supposed to present my grandfather with the walking stick and my wife, or at least my bride-to-be. I’ve failed him on both counts. After the debacle this party is guaranteed to be, I’d like a chance to explain things to you.”

Tansy sucked in air. The misery straining his voice was real, his regret and grief over failing his grandfather almost tangible through the phone connection. Though he’d kept his real name from her, he hadn’t kept
himself
hidden. She knew him. She cared for him. It was time to tell him about the walking stick, though she suspected he would hate her for keeping the truth from him.

Although in fairness, he had done the same to her. He hadn’t told her the whole truth. Still, she had kept things from him, as well. If they were keeping score, they were even. And their mutual deception had caused naught but pain and trouble. Still, she could ease at least some of his distress with his grandfather. Tansy opened her mouth to speak just as Toulouse barreled back through the bedroom doorway.

“We’re invited!” She flapped a creamy vellum envelope. Tansy pressed a finger to her lips in an exaggerated plea for silence. Toulouse mouthed a “sorry” and dropped the envelope on the bed beside Tansy.

“Toulouse sounds pleased.”

“Yes.”

“The invitation has all the details. Please, Tansy, please come.”

Tansy inhaled, prepared to say no, but Toulouse wrenched the phone out of her hand. “There is no way we would miss this. We’ll be there.” And she hung up before Tansy could so much as gasp for a breath.

****

Tansy opened the door to the
aparthotel
with shaking fingers, feeling unreasonably betrayed by Toulouse.

“What’s wrong with you?” Toulouse demanded, closing the door behind them.

Tansy shoved her fingers into her hair and tugged hard on her scalp. “Why is this party such a big deal to you?”

“Because it’s like, the social event of the year.” Toulouse dumped the backpack she’d brought into a chair.

Tansy clapped her hands over her face. Toulouse reached for Tansy’s wrists and tugged. Tansy opened her eyes and looked up. Toulouse’s expression was unusually solemn.

“Even though I don’t think he should have lied to you, I can understand why he did. Can’t you?”

Tansy groaned, dropped to the sofa, and hid her face in her hands. “Yes. No. I don’t know. If I can, it’s only because I’ve kept something from him, too.”

Tansy felt the sofa shift under Toulouse’s added weight.

“What? You’re married? You have six kids?”

Tansy looked up, aghast. “No!”

“Then what is it?”

Tansy rose, stepped onto the balcony, and shoved her hand into the leaves of the potted plant. Her fingers curved around the fox-shaped silver handle of the walking stick and yanked it free from its hiding place.

Tansy brushed dirt and vermiculite from the end of the staff.

“This is the Sandoval family treasure, for what it’s worth. And I suppose the fact Sebastian didn’t tell me who he was from the get-go just prickled my own guilty conscience for keeping this from him.”

Toulouse crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame. “Psych class 101,” she said, earning a glare from Tansy. Undaunted, she charged ahead. “The question is: were you planning to tell him?”

“If I’d known who he was, I would have just arranged a meeting with his grandfather right away and that would have been the end of it.”

“And then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with each other.” At Tansy’s shocked expression, Toulouse laughed. “Get in the shower, girlfriend. We’re running out of time to get you ready for Cinderella’s ball.”

Tansy washed her hair again. She thought she’d washed it once already, but couldn’t remember. Her mind, and her heart, raced. Tonight she would complete Eva’s assignment, and she would lose Sebastian forever.

When she opened the bathroom door, Toulouse was in the bedroom.

“This is perfect!” Toulouse held up the pink taffeta party dress Tansy had found in Eva’s attic.

“For what?” Tansy pulled the towel tighter around her body.

“For the party tonight. The Sandoval birthday
fêtes
are formal affairs. Where did you get this? It looks vintage.” Toulouse lifted the gown and examined it with a critical eye.

“It is vintage. It was packing material for the walking stick. It belonged to Sebastian’s mother.”

Toulouse gasped. “Oh, my goodness! I can’t think of anything more perfect, Tansy. Here, put it on.” She thrust the dress toward Tansy. “I’ll get dressed in the living room.”

“You brought something formal?”

Toulouse grinned. “It’s in my backpack.” The bedroom door closed behind her with a soft click.

Tansy laid the dress on the bed and rummaged through a drawer for appropriate underthings. She hadn’t planned to
wear
the dress when she’d packed it, but she had stockings and a bra that would work with the help of some safety pins. Shoes, however, would be a problem.

She pulled her hair into a semi-formal up-do and applied a little more makeup than usual before she stepped out of the bedroom. Frothy pink tulle and taffeta billowed from her waist.

“It’s beautiful!” Toulouse gaped.

Toulouse, Tansy noted with dismay, was wearing a black jersey knit dress with long sleeves and a deep U-shaped back that clung to her curves. Dark, sheer stockings with seams in the back ended in a pair of cobalt blue platform suede pumps with ice pick heels. Her hair was loose, curling around her face, neck, and shoulders.

“You look amazing,” Tansy said, feeling like a discarded cupcake.

Toulouse fluttered a hand. “Thanks.” Then she looked at Tansy. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Huh?”

“That you’re gorgeous, and that dress is perfect for you. I can’t wait to see Sebastian’s face.” Her gaze traveled from Tansy’s shoulders to her feet. “Where are your shoes?”

“I didn’t bring any to suit the dress. I wasn’t planning on wearing it.”