Shanice’s dark eyes grew moist. “You’ve had more than your share of heartache, honey, but sometimes what looks like a gift is a gift.”
“I just want to be sure I’m not setting myself up for more trouble. If you all wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to come up and see the place, and meet Roman Velasco. I want your impressions of the man before I give him any kind of answer.”
Grace told Roman Monday morning that she’d consulted three friends. “They’re free Saturday morning, if that’s convenient for you. We won’t take up much of your time.”
His mouth tipped. “You mean they’re checking me out, making sure I’m not some wolf after a lamb.” He waited, leaving her with the feeling she should say something. But what? She couldn’t pretend she trusted him. She barely knew the man, and her instincts had failed her before. Everyone had seemed to know what sort of man Patrick was. How had she been so blind? She’d been enamored by his looks and popularity in the beginning. Later, she wanted to believe what he said. She’d overlooked warning signs and plunged ahead, convincing herself she loved him. The truth was a cold slap in her face, and he hadn’t tried to soften the blow.
“Okay, Ms. Moore.” Velasco’s expression grew wry. “I guess a girl can’t be too careful these days, right? Are you still going on those interviews?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t expect me to wish you good luck.” Annoyed, he entered his studio.
On Wednesday, Grace prayed all the way to the first interview, in a downtown office building. God, if You’re the one bringing all this about, please give me a clear message. I’d be right next door to Roman Velasco. He’d be boss, landlord, and neighbor. He’s deep water, Lord, and I’m a lousy swimmer.
The receptionist gave Grace forms to fill out. She sat in a waiting room with half a dozen other women coated in confidence, several with leather briefcases, wearing designer suits and three-inch heels. When Grace’s turn came, the gentleman shook her hand and sat facing her from behind his polished mahogany desk. He’d already perused her application and references. He was polite. The interview lasted six minutes. He thanked her for coming in and wished her well.
As she walked back to her car, her phone alerted her that she’d missed a call. The message said her Friday interview was canceled, the position filled.
Grace brought Samuel with her on Saturday morning. Roman Velasco’s driveway was hard to spot, so she stopped and waited just off the road, where Shanice would be sure to see her car. A few minutes before they were due to arrive, Shanice’s yellow Volvo roared around the curve. Grace honked. Shanice’s brakes squealed as she turned onto the macadam drive. Grace led the way around the giant valley oak and along the curve down to the main house.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Grace saw her friends gaping at Roman Velasco’s modern beige stone house, a fortress tucked against the hillside. Square cement pavers floated in a sea of black pebbles up to heavy, carved wooden double doors, where blue-green, pink, and mauve rosettes of echeveria and spiked agave spilled over two large terra-cotta pots. Instead of staying on the gravel circle, she took the short drive to the right and pulled in close to the cottage.
Shanice parked behind Grace and got out of her car. “Thanks for watching for us. I would’ve missed the driveway if Ashley hadn’t spotted your car.”
“I know. I missed it three times my first day of work.” Grace unlatched Samuel’s car seat from its base. Still half-asleep, he sucked his thumb as she led the trio along the pathway to the front of the house. A stone wall curved around the paver patio, complete with fire pit. Ashley and Nicole paused to comment on the gorgeous view of the canyon while Shanice took Samuel’s carrier so Grace could dig into her pocket for the key Roman had given her.
As soon as Grace walked in, she knew she was in deep trouble. Shanice followed closely behind and gasped.
The living room alone was bigger than the apartment Grace had shared with Patrick. The kitchen was small, but efficient, everything state-of-the-art. Rather than linoleum, the floor was expensive cream-colored travertine. Grace stood rooted in shock. Swooning, Ashley and Nicole pushed past her and went exploring.
“Oh, wow!” Ashley cried out. “Come look at the bedroom!” Numb, Grace followed and stared. A California king-size bedroom set would fit easily, if she had one. Her twin bed and nightstand would be lost in here. One door opened into a walk-in closet bigger than her bedroom at the Garcia home.
“Wait until you see the bathroom!” Ashley laughed in wonder.
Grace admired the yellow-and-white marble floor and counter, two white porcelain sinks with shiny chrome fixtures, a Jacuzzi tub big enough for two.
Nicole stepped into the small hideaway lavatory and flushed the toilet. She squealed with delight. “It’s an integrated toilet and bidet!”
Ashley opened a shower door. “There’s a rainfall showerhead and jets in the walls!”
“And you’re wondering if you should move in?” Nicole laughed. “This place is fantastic!”
“Tone it down, girls.” Shanice spoke with less enthusiasm. “We’ve yet to meet the commander of the fortress.”
Roman debated whether to wear his usual jeans and T-shirt or put on more formal slacks and tuck in a button-down shirt, but knew Grace would be immediately suspicious. So, he cranked up his usual style with black jeans and a navy-blue polo, front tucked in behind a brass anchor buckle. He raked his hands through his hair. Maybe he should’ve shaved, but he didn’t want to look like this meeting was the biggest event of his weekend. Even if it was.
Why should this girl’s opinion matter to him?
Because she had class, and having her around reminded him how far he had come up in the world. Unlike other women, who just wanted to drag him back down again.
Roman saw the cars arrive from an upper window, but waited another twenty minutes before strolling the paver walkway between the main house and the cottage. If she accepted his offer, she’d be living less than a thousand feet away. He wouldn’t be entirely alone out here, not that it had bothered him all that much until now.
The front door stood open, and women’s happy, excited voices drifted out. Unfortunately, Grace’s wasn’t one of them. He knocked on the doorjamb to announce his presence. Grace appeared, her expression enigmatic. “We were just looking around.”
“I know.”
She stepped aside so Roman could enter and introduced him to her three friends. Strawberry-blonde Ashley O’Toole stared at him with wide blue eyes. Nicole Torres shook his hand firmly. Shanice Tyson looked closer to the kind of girl he understood. Experienced, tough, street-smart, even if she was wearing designer clothes. She held a baby on her hip and gave him a polite, if somewhat cool, nod. He caught the wind of distrust blowing from her direction, the alpha female he’d have to win over.
He extended his hand to Shanice first and looked her straight in the eye. “It’s good to know Ms. Moore has friends who look out for her.” He included the other two women with a glance. Grace stood by, watchful, noncommittal. She wasn’t going to be rushed into any decision, not this girl. Roman told her he was on his way out for the afternoon—a lie, but good for a quick exit. “I’ll leave you all to discuss the pros and cons.”
Grace walked him out the door. “It’s far more than I expected.”
“It’s just standing here, empty.” Would that be enough to silence any further doubts? “It’s yours if you want it.”
“I still need to think about it.”
What had her so worried? “Talk it over with your friends. I want you to feel comfortable with your decision.” Comfortable enough to move in, anyway. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Ms. Moore.”