Broken Serenade (19 page)

   
All at once, she felt the suffocating, obscuring haze of mistrust and speculations lifting like magic from her soul. A maddening exuberance took its place. She could think of him now without any restraint, she could love him now without feeling cursed.         

   
As her heart sang with happiness, Vivien brought her grandmother’s intriguing box into her bedroom, and she opened it. She uncovered a huge pile of papers and pictures in apparent disorder, and she anxiously rummaged through them for a few minutes but found nothing personal. She was quite disappointed. She had expected a letter from her grandmother or at least a simple, handwritten note from her lying on top of everything else. She looked at young, attractive women she had never seen before who smiled at her from photographs of all sizes untidily attached to copies of scholarship checks. Her first thought was that Carol Hopkins had been involved in a charitable organization, and the old woman had wanted Vivien to continue her work.

   
“She was such a large-hearted human being, God bless her,” the young girl whispered alone, moved to tears.

   
She realized that she needed hours, maybe an entire day, to read everything and comprehend her grandmother’s true message to her. She took a red marker and wrote GRANNY on the box. Heaving a sigh, she pushed it under her bed, and then she went into the kitchen.
Tomorrow, when I will have more time on my hands, I will check every document very carefully,
she promised herself.
  

   
Now she had plans. Friday was her cooking day. It was a pleasure that laced harmoniously with necessity. She liked to know what she put into her body down to the last dash of pepper. She exaggerated a bit– she was aware of that – but she was unable to give in and start eating in a restaurant like most people she knew.

   
Maybe Tee would help me get over this phobia
.

   
With Tee, she felt capable of doing anything. Until then though, tonight, she would invite him to have a simple and quiet dinner at her house.  

   
Vivien’s state of exultation reached new heights around noon. The brown UPS truck stopped in front of her house, and a young black man, all smiles, brought her a fancy package from Victoria’s Secret. The expeditor was none other than her darling Tee. Eager to see what was inside, she opened the signature pink box and revealed four exquisitely fashioned silk blouses. A small black envelope tied with fine pink ribbon contained a typed personal message that raised her body temperature to a euphoric level. Every word, every sentence spoke of his love and attraction to her, from the endearing salutation, down to the memorable Latin motto that was a subtle invitation to a new, more advanced level in their relationship. 

   
 
My dearest Vee,

     I kindly advise you
not to misinterpret my gesture. I want to apologize solely for ruining your beautiful blouse and nothing more. Apart from that, your impromptu call into my bedroom was an absolute and indescribable delight. I cannot stop thinking of you, Vee…

     With love,

     Tee.

     PS: Choose one of them and wear
it tonight, please…Non mihi, non tibi
, sed nobis.

CHAPTER 15

    
“
H
ey, boss, won’t you have lunch with us?” the youngest of the construction workers asked, shuffling his feet as he strolled to his old Nissan truck.

   
Construction engineer Robert Kane answered with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

   
“Not today, guys. Thank you. You go on. I’ll be fine.”

   
The early snack had turned his stomach upside down. He had detected a faintly rancid smell when he had opened that bag of potato chips, but he had continued to nibble on them absently until the last bit.
What a stupid mistake!
he acknowledged frustrated.

   
“You, smart ass! Mr. Kane has a damn good reason not to come with us today,” another worker from the team yelled laughing. “He wants to keep watch, so he won’t miss the maids at the pool. All blonde hair and hot bodies… born to blow your mind, man! If you had any in the first place, that is!”

   
“C’mon men, that wasn’t a lie,” the youngest of the team insisted.

   
“No, of course you didn’t lie,” another one interfered, mocking him openly. “You dreamed about it behind the pile of bricks where you usually hide and shirk work, you lousy son of a gun!”

   
“Give him a break, you guys!” Robert Kane called, laughing with them. “We live in a free country. Everybody has the right to… to have a beautiful dream every now and then…”

   
“And what could be more beautiful in this world than a gang of young, blonde chicks skinny dipping in a pool?” a bricklayer, long past his prime, voiced his opinion with a melancholic look over his deep-lined face.

   
“What could be more beautiful right now, you mean?” a young Mexican with a broken accent asked very seriously. “A
burrito grande
with
salsa roja
, my friend… It’s worth ten sexy
señoritas
this minute. I’m hungry, man!”

   
The noisy group dispersed and vanished inside the few cars parked neatly at the periphery of that huge property on which they were working. The construction of that impressive mansion - erected elegantly on the border of the ocean - had started more than four years ago. Kane had contracted the job quite recently, the year before, but he had gotten bored already. He was dealing with the most insufferable client of his entire carrier –
the invisible client
– as he liked to call her jokingly. In addition to the stressful lack of communication, this particular client changed her mind often and asked for modifications in the existing project. Now, it seemed that she had reached the bottom of her imagination, and they expected to make the final touches and be done with it. Robert Kane could hardly wait to conclude the business and have that well-overdue vacation he had been planning with his wife and daughters for months.  

   
The contagious laughter of his construction crew faded little by little. Robert took his cellular phone from the pocket of his shirt and called his wife. The woman didn’t pick up, and he declined to leave a message. He would try again later.

   
He grabbed the water bottle from his truck and decided to take a stroll on the ocean side. Pebble Beach was one of the most enchanting places on the Californian Pacific coast.  

    As he walked
away from his car, the engineer registered cute little voices of children playing somewhere in the distance. Listening more carefully, he came to the conclusion that the hubbub originated in the recently inhabited wing of the mansion where he was working. Curiosity got the best of him, and he went closer to spy. It wasn’t every day that one could see people in that house. Sometimes, Robert Kane was under the strange impression that he had been hired by phantoms.

   
He sneaked through the labyrinth of stone-made walls partially covered with fragrant bushes of honeysuckle and climbing ivy vines. Without him noticing, the maze came to an unexpected end, and Robert Kane found himself looking dumbfounded at the blue ocean. He could have sworn that he had walked in the opposite direction, toward the house and not toward the ocean.

     A few yards from him, a little girl with golden locks cried silently
, crouched on the wet sand. She seemed to be four or five years old. From time to time, the ocean waves washed the hem of her yellow cotton dress. The water-imbued crocheted lace danced around her small and bare feet.

   
Robert loved children. His girls were five and six years old, and he was crazy about them. He couldn’t remain indifferent at the sight of a crying, distressed child.  

   
“Hey, little princess!” he said softly, mindful not to startle her. “Are you lost perhaps?”

   
The kid turned to him a pair of beautiful grass-green eyes that had become red and puffy from too much crying.

   
“I want to go to mommy,” the child muttered whimpering. “I want my mommy. Please take me to my mommy!”    

    
It can’t be possible
, Robert Kane thought stupefied. She was the supposedly kidnapped little girl on the news lately. Her picture had been broadcast on television and had appeared on every newspaper he read. She had vanished somewhere on the Eastern coast. Earlier that same day, he had thought terrified that her chances to be found alive had been getting slimmer and slimmer. That happened to children taken from their homes usually – the saddest thing a parent should ever have to go through!    

   
Robert kneeled beside her and lifted her in his arms. With excessive gentleness, he wiped her nose and tears with a McDonald’s paper napkin he found in the pocket of his jeans.

   
“What’s your name, princess?”

   
“Tiffany,” she whispered.

   
“Ok, Tiffany, let’s make a deal: I’ll take you to your mommy, but you have to stop crying.”

   
“Ok,” she accepted obediently.

    “What a girl!” he exclaimed contentedly
, reaching inside his pocket for the cell phone.

   
Robert was so happy and absorbed with Tiffany’s well-being, that he didn’t hear the hurried steps behind him. Out of nowhere, he felt the ice-cold barrel of a pistol on his nape, and a malicious voice demanded with chilling clarity:

   
“Let go of the child and give me your phone. Don’t try anything stupid if you want to see your family again.”    

CHAPTER 16

   
 
T
he air seemed as heavy as lead in his office. Timothy got up and opened a window. The outside clamor stressed his conviction that life went on, no mattered what. People continued to run their peculiar existences, indifferent, in fact, to someone else’s troubles.
Man is alone in his own pain. And the mind of each of us is so complex, so impenetrable, and so damn sick sometimes
, Timothy reflected, disturbed by the latest news.

     He could not comprehend how his dear friend Robert Kane
had reached the point of desperation and had committed suicide. Robert had been one of the most experienced civil engineers in the Bay Area. Actually, that had been the reason Timothy had contacted him regarding the grandiose, sophisticated project of the mansion in Pebble Beach. At his age of forty-nine, he had enjoyed everything a man could ever want: a flourishing business, a young, beautiful, and loving wife, two children like angels, and a superb house in Palo Alto.
Why would a man like Robert choose
suicide?
Timothy asked himself, enraged by his friend’s final and stupid act.  

   
He had run into Kane recently, just a couple of days ago. The engineer had seemed relaxed and content with the fact that Pebble Beach project was coming to an end. He had talked enthusiastically about the vacation he had arranged for him and his family in Cancun. Timothy had not had the heart to let him know that
Miss Phantomas
had demanded new changes to her mansion.

   
Suddenly, the architect felt an immense hatred toward that house. Its construction did not look to have an ending point any time soon.
If ever!
The death of Robert Kane was not the only tragedy to darken that project. The first civil engineer had died in a car crash as returning from work.

     In accordance with the contract, architect Timothy Leigh had no further obligations toward the client in Pebble Beach. He had finished the project three years ago and had receive
d his money. Nevertheless, Miss Never-Shows-Her-Face continued to press him with so-called
customizing changes
. She paid every time, but Timothy had no more need for her money. He had designed for her a beautiful, unique house, and she had never honored him with a single meeting. That bothered him. He had no idea who she was, how she looked like if she even existed, or if, actually, the client were a “she” or a “he”. A wing of the house had been already occupied, but not even the housekeeper knew the face of the owner.  

   
“Miss LaFontain,” Timothy called through the interphone. “Would you be so kind to come into my office? I need your assistance right away.”

     The secretary knocked and entered. As usual, her face did not show any emotion, if she were or not af
fected by the recent death of the firm’s loyal partner. She brought to his attention the fact that she had sent flowers to the grieving family of Robert Kane.

     “Thank you, Miss La
Fontain, but the reason I asked you here has nothing to do with Robert. On the other hand, maybe it does, but only indirectly. I would like you to compose a letter in which I inform the Pebble Beach client that my company will cease its collaboration with them. We finished the house as specified in the contract. The people who represented the owner signed, they were happy. All that has followed was excessive politeness from our part. My company has other projects that I wish to involve myself in… My patience has a limit…You’ll know how to write it, give it a polite, formal appearance.”