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It was Monday. She had until Thursday to find people who could watch her mother. Because she still needed to work. And Mamá couldn’t be alone.
* * *
ROSA WAS STARING at him. Again. You’d think by Thursday she would have stopped.
He was keeping his eye on Rosa while Carolina tended bar, but her mother’s ogling was creepy.
Setting the lid on the paint can, he tapped it closed. Done. Even with working between storms, he’d gotten everything painted. He cleaned the brushes, then tucked the supplies on a shelf in the carport.
“Are you ready for dinner?” he asked Rosa.
“I’m ready for a drink.”
“Sure.” For the last three evenings, he, Carolina and Rosa had relaxed with cocktails. If her mother wasn’t dying, it would be a nice tradition. “What would you like?”
“Champagne. I love champagne.” She hugged her arms. “Beau always brought me champagne.”
Carolina’s father. A married man. Not honorable. At least not in his world.
“I’ll get you a glass.” And he’d have a beer.
He pulled the champagne he’d opened yesterday out of the fridge. When he popped the bottle stopper, it released with a nice hiss. He held up the stainless-steel contraption. The stopper actually kept in the fizz. His mother might like one of these.
He poured Rosa’s flute and took his beer into the porch.
She was halfway down the steps.
He dropped everything on the table and hurried through the screen door. “Hey, where are you going?”
“To the beach.” She waved her arms and started to spin, losing her balance.
He caught her.
“It’s going to rain.” Again. “Why don’t we have our cocktails on the porch? We can stay dry and warm?”
“I want to go to the beach.” She pouted. Big drops plopped around them. “Damn it!”
She tried to race up the stairs and he stumbled with her, his hand under her elbow. Maybe he could construct some sort of ramp, but the front stairs were steep. It might be better to build something off the kitchen’s back door.
Once they were back inside the porch, she brushed water drops from her hair. “That was fun.”
Then she tried to wipe his shoulders and chest off.
He stepped away, forcing Rosa’s hands to drop. She’d lost her sense of boundaries. Or maybe she didn’t understand that she was old enough to be his mother.
“Do you want a towel?” he asked.
“I’m fine, fine, fine.” She shuffled back to her chair, took the wineglass and held it up. “Salud!”
“Cheers.” He sipped his beer.
“I want my globe.”
“Your globe?” he asked.
“My globe. My globe.” Her eyes had a manic sparkle.
“Do you know where it is?” He hadn’t see a globe in the house, but he hadn’t looked for one, either. “If you know where it is, I can bring it out to you.”
“Carolina.” Rosa frowned. “She put it away. Where would she hide it?”
Hide it?
“I know. She told me.” A sly look slid across her face. “I’m not supposed to take it out.”
Why would Carolina deny her mother a globe?
“Poppy’s desk!” Rosa bounced in her chair. “She hid it in Poppy’s desk.”
“Do you want me to get it for you?”
“Yes. Yes. It’s been gone so long,” she crooned. “It’s finally home.”
“Promise you’ll stay right here?”
She nodded, sipping her champagne. “I just want to touch it.”
Why had Carolina hidden a globe? His footsteps were heavy as he headed into the main living area. He pushed up the roll top.
The Fitzgeralds’ blue globe sat in the middle of the desk. His gut twisted like a bronc trying to unseat him. “Damn it.”
Maybe it wasn’t the globe that had been in the music room.
He found the plaque written in Spanish. Fuck. Had Abby or one of the sisters given it to Carolina?
He carried it out to the porch like it was an armed bomb.
“Is this what you were looking for?” His voice was dead.
“Yes. Yes!” She held out her hands. “It’s home again. Home again.”
Home again?
“Where did Carolina get it?” he choked out.
“She took it for me.” Rosa pushed her hair off her shoulders. “Right out from under those bitches’ noses.”
He sank onto the chair and the wicker creaked and groaned. She’d stolen it?
Maybe Rosa was wrong. He hoped so. Because if not, Carolina’s moral compass was missing.
* * *
THE WIPERS THREW rain off the windshield, but as soon as it was clear, sheets of water reappeared. Carolina slowed, barely able to see beyond her headlights. Her fingers clenched the steering wheel like it would keep her on the road. It was only ten, but it was as black as a moonless midnight.
