Return to Mariposa

Chapter 3

My despised cousin Ian looked at me again. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said. There was nothing I could say. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Bella had promised that I only had to fool Granda.

And I should have remembered that Bella’s promises had never been worth shit. He looked like a different person. As a child, he’d been skinny, his nose too big for his face, his brown hair and hunched shoulders accentuating the difference between him and his older brother Marcus. I never would have guessed he’d grow up to be so...so presentable. I should have recognized the sneer. “I thought you were supposed to be away at some conference,” I said.

“I was. Until I heard you were coming. I cancelled, and I told Marcus to get his butt back here as well.”

“Marcus is here?” My voice rose in a breathless little shriek, as the sheer stupidity of this masquerade hit me full force. How could I have been such an idiot, to fall for Bella’s blandishments? I should have known that disaster would follow me.

“Not yet. I expect him tomorrow.”

I didn’t let him see the relief that washed over me. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. I cancelled your ticket to Paris.”

“Why?” I demanded in a frosty voice. But I knew why. Ian Whitehead had been put on this earth to make my life, and Bella’s, an eternal misery. All through our teenage years, he’d mocked us, taunted us, teased and tormented us. He was the dark brother, thin and suspicious, always too smart for his own good with a whiplash tongue, as opposed to his brother Marcus. Charming, golden Marcus, with broad shoulders and a smile that could melt the stoniest hearts, and both Bella and I had fallen in love with him the moment we saw him. Marcus was fourteen, Ian was twelve when Granda had the two of them brought to the villa, and we’d both made our choice instantly. After all, they weren’t real cousins, but the grandsons of Granda’s second wife. But he’d decided they were Whiteheads, and they’d been coopted and even changed their names.

Not that I’d ever had a chance. Bella had captivated Marcus, immediately, and he was besotted in return. They allowed me to tag along most of the time, and with Marcus had come Ian, baiting us. He was the price I had to pay for basking in the glow of Marcus’s golden light.

The simple fact was, I’d never gotten over him. I’d spent so many years dreaming of one kiss from those beautiful, perfect lips that I’d paid little attention to the men around me, settling for bad choices.

I didn’t want to see him again. Wasn’t ready to. Trust Ian to have arranged it.

“I can rebook,” I said sweetly.

“No one will drive you to the airport.”

“I can hire a car.”

He laughed derisively. “You’ve forgotten what the town is like. Trust me, Santa Maria de Fe hasn’t changed. No one’s going to go against Granda’s word, and I’m his voice. You’re staying.”

I glared at him, giving free rein to my emotions. “For how long?”

“Depends on how long it takes Granda to die. That, or he gets tired of you, but he’s just as fooled by you as everyone else.”

“But not you,” I said.

“No, not me. You’ll stay to make sure Granda has a peaceful passing. I don’t want him rewriting wills or cutting people out anymore. Enough is enough.”

“Who has he cut out?” Besides me, I thought, but that was old news.

“Damned if I know. Maybe you, maybe me, maybe everyone, and left Mariposa and the business to the Dominican nuns or the preservation of street dogs charity.”

“He likes cats better,” I said reflexively, remembering Granda’s beringed hand stroking the big gray tabby who slept curled up on his lap.

“True enough,” Ian said. “But you know as well as I do that he hasn’t had a cat in years, not since Salvador Dali died.”

For a moment I was startled. The granda I remembered hadn’t any use for modern art or Spain’s most famous eccentric, and he would hardly go into mourning...and then I remembered that was the name of the cat. “Look, Ian,” I said, swiveling around on the bench seat, dislodging more papers. “There’s no need for us to fight about things. I can’t imagine why you could possibly want me to stay here. You and I have never gotten along and that’s not about to change.”

He cast a sidelong glance at me. “True enough,” he said in a noncommittal voice.

“So why do you want me here? I’ll make a fuss of Granda and leave tomorrow and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“How big a fool do you think I am? Granda has never been a sentimental man and you know it. He ordered the family to assemble in order to make his final decision about his will. Mary Alice and Valerie are supposed to arrive later today, Marcus tomorrow. If you take off, it would give you the perfect reason to sue everyone for undue influence if Granda decides to cut you out.”

It was an interesting thought. Not for Bella—Ian was wrong about that, as he was wrong about so many things. Granda was besotted with Bella—she’s always known just how to handle him, flattering him with her rapt attention, and he’d never banish her for disobeying his orders.

As for me, Granda had written me off years ago. Everyone but Bella seemed to have forgotten I had ever existed. To be sure, my father had been Granda’s younger son, as much his child as Bella’s father, but the old man had never prided himself on being particularly fair. And I didn’t want a damned penny of his money.

I just wanted to say goodbye. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I promised I wasn’t interested in any inheritance.” Whether it was true or not was beyond me. Bella had been cagey about the subject of money, and I’d been so pathetically eager to talk myself into this ridiculous charade that I hadn’t pushed it. How could I have been so stupid?

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t believe you. Besides, you could hardly leave without seeing your erstwhile fiancé, can you? For years, you and Podge couldn’t look at him without dissolving into sighs and giggles.”

Podge. That hateful nickname would follow me everywhere. I never found out who had come up with it in the first place, but Ian was the logical choice. However, they’d all used it, and I’d even signed my notes with that wretched phrase. So Ian hadn’t forgotten my long-lost existence after all.

“There’s a blast from the past,” I said lightly. “What made you think of her?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged, then shifted down, and I realized with surprise that we were already on the outskirts of Santa Maria de Fe. It had barely changed in the last twelve years. There was a shiny new hotel down by the water, but beyond that, the olive groves and vineyards rose in the hot Iberian sunshine, and I could see Mariposa towering over the fields like Granda lording it over his legacy.

We were through the town in the blink of an eye, then climbing once more, up the narrow roadway to the grand old house. Granda had always refused to widen the road or pave it—it had been good enough for his father before him, it would be good enough for him. Ian gunned the motor, churning up sunbaked dust beneath the tires, and I shut my eyes. I didn’t want my first glimpse of Mariposa to be with Ian by my side.

We came to an abrupt stop, and he was out of the truck before I’d even unfastened my seatbelt. I slid down from the high seat, my heels wobbling slightly in the cobblestone yard, brushing ineffectually at the stains on Bella’s designer suit. He was watching me, making no effort to retrieve the luggage, but I decided he was the least of my worries. In a few short minutes, I would finally be seeing my grandfather again, and I couldn’t wait.

I moved past him, ignoring him, when his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, hard, yanking me around to face him. “Let go of me,” I snapped.

“I want to get one thing clear.” That grip hurt. He would leave bruises, damn him. “You’re not to upset Granda. He deserves to die in peace, and you have no right to come back here after all this time and disrupt everything.”

For a moment, I almost protested that I would have come back long before this if I’d only been wanted, but he wasn’t talking to Kitty. He was talking to Bella. “I have no intention of upsetting him,” I said stiffly. “Let go of me.”

Ian had always had a guarded expression in his dark eyes, the polar opposite of Marcus’s warm gaze. I had no idea what he was thinking as his eyes washed over me, but the grip on my wrist loosened slightly, and I realized with sudden shock that he was absently stroking my skin with his thumb. “You’ve had work done,” he said abruptly.

“What?” I yanked myself free. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m only twenty-eight! Of course I haven’t had plastic surgery. Assuming that’s what you meant when you suggested I had had work done,” I added doubtfully.

“You’re twenty-nine, Bella,” he corrected, and I silently cursed. “And you’re so fucking vain you probably would have had a facelift at twenty if Granda had paid for it. Don’t bother denying it. I can see the difference in your face. Subtle, I grant you, but unmistakable. Though how in the hell did you find someone who was capable of making you look as if you were possessed of a heart? You found a real artist, no lie.”

I growled. Denying it would be useless—at least it would explain any slight anomalies he might notice between Bella’s creamy perfection and my own all too human frailties. “It’s not vanity, it’s maintenance,” I said stiffly.

“And just when did you give up smoking?” he added abruptly.

At least we’d been prepared for that one. Bella still smoked, much to my horror, but there was an easy explanation. “Over a year ago. I found it was aging me.”

His laugh was contemptuous. “Trust you to have found a shallow reason. Get your luggage. I have better things to do than stand around in the hot sun catering to your vanity.”

I glared at him. “I don’t think so.”

He cursed, low and foul, and a moment later, the luggage was dumped unceremoniously on the cobblestones. He took off, spraying both me and the suitcases with dust, and I watched him go.

Okay, I survived that first, unexpected encounter, but just barely. And Ian the Wretch was one thing; Marcus was another. I really did have to get out of there before Marcus arrived.

I should have made more of an effort to get along with Ian, but he’d always had the ability to rub me the wrong way. Besides, I’d tried to be pleasant, to sweet-talk him into letting me leave, and it had gotten me exactly nowhere.

He’d reckoned without Granda, however, and the way Bella could wind him around her little finger. I wasn’t nearly so adept, but expectation would go a long way. The old man would be so happy to see his remaining granddaughter that I could probably talk him into anything.

This was tough enough—I really couldn’t stand the thought of the cousins arriving as well, with their knowing eyes. For some reason, Granda’s other two granddaughters were always known as “the cousins” even though we were all technically cousins. They were a few years older than we were, and Mary Alice had never wanted much to do with us, or at least, Bella. The two were hardened enemies, and I sighed inwardly. It was bad enough facing Ian the Wretch. Facing the Wicked Witches of the East and West put the icing on the cake.

At this point there was nothing I could do about it, but that didn’t mean I was giving up. I could rent my own car, I could fucking hitchhike back to the airport. I would get out of here when and how I wanted, and no inscrutable nemesis like Ian would be able to stop me.

I headed for the wide front door, climbing onto the marble steps for the first time in forever, and I could feel unexpected tears sting my eyes. I scrambled for sunglasses, perched them on my nose, and reached for the knob.

It was locked. That was something new—there had never been any need to lock doors at Mariposa. The entire area depended on the olive groves for income. No one would dare jeopardize his or her livelihood for a little pilfering.

I pushed the doorbell, hearing it chime deep inside the cavernous confines of the house, and felt my momentary tears drying up with irritation. What the hell was going on here?

Maldonado answered the door. Granda’s majordomo since the beginning of time, he had always seemed ancient to me, and he looked no different, tall and thin and disapproving as an El Greco, staring down his aristocratic nose. “Miss Bella,” he said with a complete lack of enthusiasm. He was blocking the door, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to move out of the way or continue to bar my entrance. The Maldonado I’d known had been austere but friendly to me. What had happened to the old man?

“Buenas dias, Maldonado,” I greeted him with a cheerful smile that he met stonily. “How have you been?”

I half expected him not to answer, but years of training came into play. “Well, Miss Bella. And you?”

“Quite well, thank you,” I said, as he ushered me into the darkened hallway with what seemed like a trace of reluctance. “How’s Granda today?”

“Your grandfather is as well as can be expected,” he intoned, telling me exactly nothing. “Mister Ian has had you placed in the Queen’s Room. If you will follow me, I’ll have someone bring your luggage.”

Of course Ian had suggested the Queen’s Room. It was the farthest from Granda’s, the farthest from the bathroom, cold and dark and unwelcoming. The name was, in fact, a joke. No queen had ever visited Mariposa, but Granda had kept an endless series of “friends” in residence, beautiful women who decorated his table and his bed in return for his generosity, and I hadn’t realized they were his mistresses until my mother had dragged me away. That had been one of her excuses, citing the immoral example the old man had set.

I never considered how odd the accommodations were until after I had left. Clearly the old man hadn’t wanted his women friends to become too accustomed to the delights of Mariposa.

“I can find my way on my own,” I said.

“Sorry, Miss Bella. Mister Ian has said you are not to be allowed to roam the house unaccompanied.”

I made a disgusted noise. “What does he think I’m going to do, steal the good silver?”

Maldonado said nothing, but there was an odd expression in his dark eyes. Had someone been pilfering things after all? Was that why the doors were locked?

“Very well,” I said grudgingly. I gave him a speculative glance. “In the meantime, I’ll need to make arrangements to get back to the airport tomorrow. Perhaps you would see to it?”

“What has Mr. Ian said about it?”

I pulled Bella around me like a fur mantle. “Bloody Christ, Maldonado, I don’t care what Ian has to say about anything!” I snapped. “I have appointments, responsibilities. I was only able to get away for one night, but then I’m due back in France. I need to make certain I don’t miss my plane.”

“I believe Mr. Ian has cancelled your flight to Paris, miss,” he said, and if I didn’t know Maldonado for the basically kind man he was, I might have thought there was a trace of malicious amusement in his eyes. “You’ll need to discuss your arrangements with him.” He was the best of servants, well-trained, and no one would have seen the dislike and contempt in his flat black eyes if they weren’t looking for it. Bella had always been the adored darling here. Of course, Ian had never liked either of us, but there was no explanation for Maldonado’s coolness.

I followed him dutifully enough through the cool stone hallways, looking for changes. The paintings still hung on the walls, the furniture was the same, and everything was as well-kept and spotless as ever. For some strange reason I’d been expecting things to have fallen into complete disrepair. Idiot that I was, deep inside, I’d had the belief that Mariposa would fall apart without me.

It was a needed reminder just how unimportant Kitty Whitehead had really been in the scheme of things. A mere blip on the horizon of Mariposa, here and gone in a moment.

The Queen’s Room hadn’t changed. The double bed was covered with a drab, faded tester, the walls muddy, the brown curtains drawn over shutters that blocked out the powerful sun. I glanced back at Maldonado. “It’s exactly the same,” I said.

“Nothing changes at Mariposa.”

“Granda is dying. Things will change.” I kept my voice flippant, as Bella would have.

“Yes.” He turned to leave. “Someone will bring your luggage to your room. When do you expect the rest?”

“It’s all here,” I said, frustrated. “Trust me, there’s a shitload.” Would Bella have said “shitload”? I’d better watch it.

Maldonado frowned but said nothing. “I’ll be back to fetch you when your grandfather awakes from his nap.”

“Don’t you think he’d want to see me right away?” I protested, edgy. After all this time, I needed to see him, to see whether I still loved him or hated him. Or maybe both.

“He’s waited five years, Miss Bella. I think his rest is more important.” And with those gentle words, he was gone.

I looked around, immediately depressed. The room needed a paint job, new furniture, anything to cheer the place. It did have a wall of closets, enough that the clothes I’d brought with me would be swallowed up quite easily. Maybe Ian had put me in here because he knew Bella’s extensive wardrobe—no, Ian would never spare a thought for Bella’s comfort. The only people he’d ever seemed to care about were Granda and his brother.

I went over, shoved the ugly curtains aside, and opened the shutters and the windows. And stood there, taking a deep breath as the light and color of Spain washed over me.

The view was magnificent. Mariposa was perched on the top of a hill, the vineyards and olive groves leading down from it, all heavy with fruit. Past that, the town lay in front of me, the terracotta roofs, the bright white buildings so emblematic of southern Spain, the pueblos blancos. And beyond that, the sea, a beautiful azure blue. I could smell the ocean, taste the salt on my lips. And then I realized I was crying.

I quickly wiped the tears from my face. I couldn’t afford to ruin the extensive makeup job—it took me too long to get it right. Hopefully, I’d get better at it with practice, but in the meantime, it was a follow-the-numbers challenge for someone who had seldom bothered with any makeup at all, much less the complicated high-end ritual Bella favored.

I kicked off my shoes, breathing in a sigh of relief mixed with the tang of the ocean. So I was supposed to sit quietly in my room, waiting to be summoned?

What would Bella do?

I headed for the door.