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VARGAS
Cat: Pulling the video now. The doorman is a real piece of shit.
I glance at the text and pocket my phone. I know Catarino will get it handled, and I need to spend some time working on the deal with Fraser. After several calls with my financial people and others, I finally sit back in my chair and check the clock.
Dinner time. Despite myself, I smile.She’llbe at dinner. The entire time I was going over numbers and strategies, my thoughts kept straying to her, the same way they’re doing now. Does she like the house? Is she comfortable here? I’m almost … nervous … about it. I run a hand through my hair. That’s ridiculous, of course. What she thinks doesn’t matter. She’s just a tool for me to use to get to her father. But I suppose it couldn’t hurt if she enjoyed being here and being with me.
I rise and smooth out my shirt, then stride from my office. By the time I hit the front hallway, I smell some sort of roasted meat with the sweeter scent of bread beneath it. Mrs. Palacios has always been an excellent cook, but I suspect she’s outdone herself this evening.
Laughter tinkles down the hallway, and I realize how rare it is to hear that sound around here. In fact, I can’t remember a time when anyone laughed freely, not since my mother passed away. But Cadence is already lightening the mood of the entire house. Somehow, just with her presence, the place seems different. Warmer, perhaps. I shake my head. I’m imagining things.
Mrs. Palacios’s familiar guffaw ricochets into the corridor as I enter the dining room.
“Hi!” Cadence says brightly, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling beneath the chandelier’s light.
Mrs. Palacios smiles, her gaze on Cadence. “She’s something special, Vargas. Did you know that?”
“Yes, in fact I did.” I slide into the seat beside Cadence and notice Sassy sitting beneath the table.
An alarm goes off in the kitchen, and Mrs. Palacios bustles out, her iron gray hair and starched black dress reminding me of dinners from years ago. “Back in a sec.”
“You two seem to have hit it off.” I meet Cadence’s gaze, and my heart seems to kick up a notch. There’s something about the way she looks at me–shy but also curious. I don’t know why, but I find it enthralling, like she’s weaving a spell with nothing more than her expression.
“She’s great.” She fidgets with her napkin. “I was just looking around, you know, like you said.” She glances down at her lap. “Then I ran into her, and I thought maybe she’d be–I don’t know–stuffy, I guess. The dress and the bun and the stern expression, but she was nothing but kind. She’s sort of amazing.” She beams.
“I’m glad you like her.” I drape my arm across the back of her chair. “She’s pretty much an aunt or even a second mother to me. This house can’t run without her.”
“I can tell. I tried to get her to let me help her in the kitchen.”
I snort a laugh. I know exactly how that must’ve gone.
“She shooed me out of there and took me to the sunroom. I spent the afternoon with Sassy and my Kindle. It was–” She smiles again in that way that makes my chest feel warm and tight. “–kind of wonderful. The light came in just right, and your garden is beautiful.”
“I assume your father’s house is just as nice?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “It’s huge, but it’s sort of … sparse, I guess? He’s into minimalism.” She wrinkles her nose. “And mid-century modern.”
“I take it that’s not your style?”
“Not at all.” She stops fidgeting with her napkin and speaks more quickly, excitement in her voice. “I like color and interesting decor and creative things. My dad would say I like clutter, and I can’t exactly disagree. I want paintings on every wall and bits of sculpture, pottery, and macrame. I want to learn how to make art in every facet of life, you know?”
“But you’re already an artist, aren’t you? You paint, and I saw some canvases in your apartment.”
She nods. “I try, but I’m no master. I want to be, but that would require classes. Tons of different classes all over the city.” She frowns a little.
“I take it your father didn’t want you straying too far from home.”
“Never. It was an act of Congress just to get him to let me move into my apartment, and he still keeps tabs on me. He’s overprotective, but I get it. He’s–”
“Here we are.” Mrs. Palacios hurries in, a platter of roast beef in her mittened hands. “Medium rare. If you like it cooked more, I can–”
“No, it looks so good.” Cadence sits up. “I’m hungry.”
I don’t like the sound of that. She should never be hungry, not on my watch. I make a mental note to ensure she has whatever snacks she wants readily available at the upstairs mini-kitchen, as well as in this one. I don’t want her to feel like she’s lacking anything at all. Ever.
“Allow me.” I take her plate and fork several pieces of the beef onto it, then the roast carrots and potatoes, and finally some of Mrs. Palacios’s brown gravy.
“That’s a mountain.” Cadence looks at me somewhat incredulously.
