The Gift of Love (7 page)

“Welcome to Seattle, Bella!” Sandra Daniels set the basket she was carrying on Bella’s desk. “I brought you a few essentials for life in your new hometown.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Bella said. She peeked through the cellophane wrapping on her real estate agent’s gift. “But since the first two things I see are a ‘Best Places Seattle’ paperback and a Starbucks gift card, I’m not going to turn it away. I’ve been told this is the best guidebook for a new resident.”

“It is. And if you can’t find what you want there, call me and ask. I’ve lived here long enough to know how to find pretty much everything.”

Bella pointed to the two mugs nestled in the basket bearing images of the Space Needle on them. “I just set up my brand new Keurig and would love to initiate it if you’d like a cup of coffee. I’ll even turn off Dr. Sea-Tac so she doesn’t interrupt us.”

“So you’ve found Seattle’s answer to Dr. Phil. I love her show. But I’ll have to take a rain check on the coffee. I have a showing in about twenty minutes. I just stopped by to get the basket to you before you were no longer a newcomer.” She hugged Bella. “Oh, one more thing before I leave. There’s a Chamber of Commerce meet-and-greet tomorrow night at the Experience Music Project. Why don’t you join me there, and I’ll introduce you to a few people who might be able to give you some advice on how to get your project unstuck.”

“I’d really appreciate the help. And I’ve always wanted to see what the building looks like inside. What time?”

“I’ll be there about six thirty. See you then.”

• • •

Normally Bella grabbed a skirt and blouse or a pair of pants and a knit top, found a jacket to go with it, and was out the door. Today, however, she couldn’t make up her mind what to wear. She knew she was making a mountain out of something not quite so much a big deal, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from fussing. The Chamber meet-and-greet would be her first social occasion in Seattle, her first introduction to the business community, and she wanted to look right for it.

Four changes of clothes later, she decided to go with a black suit. The pencil skirt and long, hip-length jacket looked professional. The wide black belt and the soft, draped labels looked appealing. She thought it struck the balance she was looking for between serious professional and attractive woman. With a touch of caring and understanding. In a capable sort of way.

As if clothing could say all that.

Fortunately, she had a full day of dealing with city planners, potential consulting staff for the business, and a long conference call with Summer to distract her. She’d be able to forget her nervousness about walking into a room full of strangers and making a good impression. It had never been her favorite thing to do when she was working for her family business, and here the stakes were higher. She was representing Summer and a new business, the success of which would depend on acceptance in and cooperation from the community. And the latter hadn’t been forthcoming so far.

At exactly six thirty, she walked into the Experience Music Project building, head high, with a purposeful stride. She was going to wow the Chamber of Commerce members no matter how nervous she was.

The setting helped. The Chamber of Commerce had picked a great place to have the business-after-hours reception. On a trip to Seattle with her father, she’d been intrigued when she’d seen the outside of the building. Designed by Frank Gehry, the architecture had been inspired by the deconstruction of a couple guitars. This event finally gave her a chance to explore the inside, a nice side benefit to her primary goal of networking with some of Seattle’s movers and shakers.

By the time she arrived, the reception was already crowded. Standing about ten feet inside the entrance, she looked around. She didn’t see Sandra but did locate the wine bar and headed there. When she eventually scored a glass of wine, she slowly walked around the room, looking at first for her acquaintance but caught almost immediately by the displays on the wall. She didn’t pay attention to the people she was standing near until a familiar male voice said, “Bella? What on earth are you doing here?”

She turned suddenly enough to almost dump her drink on the man asking the question. “Marius. I should have known. I mean, I’m not surprised you’re here.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have any reason to assume you would be.” Marius Hernandez seemed more amused than annoyed, which was a relief, considering the last time she’d seen him she’d first hung all over him like kudzu then screamed at him for what she said was rude behavior when he didn’t respond the way she wanted him to.

When she didn’t immediately reply, he continued, “This would be the place where you tell me why you’re here, since my family hasn’t bothered to tell me you were anywhere near Seattle, let alone representing ...” He peered at the nametag she was wearing. “Break Up or Make Up, whatever that is.”

“I’m sorry our families haven’t been in better contact. A lot changed after my father died.” She was sure the expression on her face showed she was still sad about her dad’s passing. But this wasn’t the time or place to get into the subject. She continued, “Actually, I’ve recently moved to Seattle. I’m in charge of opening the Seattle branch of a Portland company I’ve been working with the past few years.”

“I didn’t realize you’d been working in Portland, either. Sounds like we have a lot to catch up on. What does this company you work for do?”

“We work with clients who are negotiating difficult circumstances with personal or professional relationships. I started out writing for them and have moved up to management. It’s an exciting opportunity.”

“I’m happy you’ve found something to engage your talents. I know how rough it was for you after your father died.”

Marius was the master of understatement. The son of one of her father’s best friends, he had borne the brunt of her grab at security when she’d thrown herself at him trying to find someone to save her from dealing with the fallout from her father’s death.

She had managed to convince herself that Marius was the answer to a prayer. He was handsome. His family and hers had known each other for generations. He’d even been the object of her teenage crush when she’d met him in Miami during a visit with relatives. Somehow, she was sure all she needed to do was flirt with him and he’d fall for her. It had worked with a couple other guys. Why not Marius?

Not only was it a bad idea to think about marrying someone only for security, but the man she’d picked was in love with a jewelry designer named Cynthia Blaine. Whom he was now married to. Which was almost a miracle considering how she’d spoken to Cynthia as she clung to Marius and demanded his attention.

“Yes, you do know.” She cleared her throat and glanced at the ceiling before adding, “About that—I don’t think I ever really apologized for my rudeness to Cynthia at the Art Museum that night. Has she ever forgiven me?”

He laughed. “Right now she’s too busy with her jewelry designs and our daughter to worry about some random occurrence last year. There’s no need to apologize. Or worry about it. Anyone who’s ever lost someone they love would understand.”

“Still, it was ...”

“Awkward?”

“To say the least. I am sorry, Marius.” She put her hand on his arm as she apologized when the thought occurred to her that his wife could be there and watching. Removing her hand, she asked, “Is she here tonight? I could apologize to her in person.”

“She couldn’t find a babysitter so she couldn’t make it. Please, don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.” He took a sip of his wine before adding, “But if you’re serious about talking to her, give me your phone number and address, and the next time we do something social at the house, I’ll make sure you get invited and you can tell her yourself.”

She wasn’t sure what her reception would be at the Hernandez home, but she complied with the request. As she was scribbling her address on the back of a business card, Sandra Daniels joined them.

“I see you found my favorite coffee broker to chat up until I got here, Bella,” she said as she put out her hand for Marius to shake.

“I’m the only coffee broker you know in Seattle, Sandra. And don’t bother flattering me. Cynthia and I are still happy living where we are.” His wide grin seemed to say he didn’t really mean the dismissive words.

“Well, promise me you won’t forget me when you’re not. I’m sure I can sell that beautiful house of yours in a weekend.” She looked back and forth from her client to the handsome coffee broker. “So, did you two know each other before you got here or ...?”

Bella explained the family connections between the Hernandez and Rodriguez families, conveniently—or not so conveniently—omitting the event in Portland for which she had just apologized.

• • •

Who was the woman talking to Sandra and Marius? Taylor didn’t think he’d ever seen her at one of these events before. If he had, he’d surely remember her. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Without her heels, she wouldn’t be tall, not much over five feet, he thought, but a palpable energy emanated from her. He could feel it even across the room. Her long, dark hair was pulled back from her face in what looked like an attempt to tame wild curls that his fingers itched to touch, to see what they felt like. When she talked, as she was doing now, what he thought were dark eyes flashed, her lovely face was animated, and her hands participated in telling the story. She was about as far away from any woman he’d ever been attracted to as she could be, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Not only did she have a compelling face, but the rest of her was fascinating, too. Curvy hips were hugged by a slim skirt. Nicely toned legs showed from the hem right above her knees to a pair of sky-high heels. A fitted jacket emphasized a slender waist and a hint of cleavage. He hadn’t been this fascinated by a woman in—well, he couldn’t even remember when the last time was. He absolutely wanted to know more about her. As soon as he got a glass of wine, he’d go over and talk to Sandra and Marius. He knew both of them and could cadge an introduction from whichever of them knew her.

The crowd had grown enough that the line for the wine was twenty-deep. Taylor had almost decided to leave without a drink when a third bartender appeared and the line started moving faster. He stayed.

Big mistake.

By the time he got a glass of wine, the beautiful, dark-haired woman had disappeared into the crowd that had seemed to have doubled in size again during the time he’d been in line. He walked around the room, stopping at every small cluster of people, looking for her. Or Marius. Or Sandra. Both were also among the missing. Conversations with people he knew kept him from a laserlike focus on his quest, but after forty-five minutes of off and on searching, his glass was almost empty and he hadn’t found any of the three people he was seeking. Sandra and Marius, he discovered in several conversations, had separately left. The woman, who’d intrigued him and who was unknown by anyone he talked to, had disappeared into the night like Cinderella. Without leaving a glass slipper or a phone number.

But Taylor had an advantage over Prince Charming. He didn’t need a shoe to track his mysterious woman down. He had Marius Hernandez, whom he’d met when the coffee broker had used MBA Consulting’s help in opening the Seattle branch of his family’s business. As Taylor left the event after an hour more of socializing, he decided to call him on Monday. Surely Marius would know how to track her down.

“Taylor. It’s been a long time,” Marius said when he answered the phone. “It’s good to hear from you. I hear you made partner at MBA. Congratulations. But if you’re calling to see if I need your help again, I’m still implementing the ideas you gave me the last go around. Although I may have a name or two for you to call.”

“I’m always ready to get the names of possible clients, but what I’m calling for is a favor.” Taylor hesitated for a moment, suddenly wondering if his impulse would be interpreted as more like stalking than trying to get an introduction to an attractive woman.

“Just tell me what you want. MBA was the reason I had such a smooth entry into the Seattle business scene. Anything I can do for you, I will.”

“Actually, it’s a personal favor. And I’m beginning to feel a bit foolish asking.”

“Personal, huh? That’s interesting. Why don’t you ask and let me decide if it’s foolish.”

“Okay. Look, it’s about the woman you were talking to at the Chamber meet-and-greet the other evening ...”

“Which woman? I must have talked to a couple dozen or more. There was Tina Minor, she’s a lawyer in town. And Sandra Daniels, she’s a real estate broker. I’d have thought you’d know them. Then there was ...”

“No, she was a little brunette. In a black suit. You were talking to her when I walked in. It was about six forty-five or so.”

“Ah, should have guessed.”

Taylor swore he could hear a muffled laugh. “I know it sounds like something from middle school, but ...”

“You’d like to meet her.”

“Yeah. I would. Do you know her well enough to arrange an introduction?”

“You could say so. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Her grandfather and mine came from Cuba together back in the early sixties. Her name is Isabella Rodriguez. She recently moved to Seattle. Opening an office for some company she’s been working with for a while. Can’t remember the name although I should. It’s an odd one.” There was a pause, as if he were trying to remember. “Doesn’t matter. When you meet her, she can tell you. I’m sure she’d love to make new friends. She said she hasn’t had much of a chance to meet people.”

“Maybe you could ask her if it would be okay to give me her phone number. Or something.”

“I have a better idea. Cynthia—my wife—is having a reception this coming Saturday at the Erickson Gallery. She’s debuting some new jewelry designs for Max Erickson. I planned to invite Bella, and I’ll see you get an invitation, too. I’ll suggest she get there at seven. If you’re there then, you can meet her. That work for you?”

“It’s great. Thank you. I owe you.”

“Actually not. It would be doing a favor for me to connect her with a few friends.”