“Like soil composition. We would want to do our own geo-investigation, just to make sure this lovely palisade is not about to drop into the sea.”
“My understanding is,” Alejo said, “the coastal commission deals with that.”
“Oh, well, state agencies.” She waved that hand with the diamond. “Everyone knows how easily swayed they are. But Stella Porta is known for doing due diligence.” She paused to eye him, and when he said nothing, she went on, “Also, one of our investors—a very prominent personage—received a troubling report that there might be a pest problem.”
Who actually says ‘personage’? He blinked, having not expected that sudden turn in a conversation that was already giving him that inward itch of the con. “Pests?”
“Squirrels. Rats,” she said smoothly. “No one likes rats, of course, but did you know that squirrels are just as dangerous? Oh, they’re so cute to look at—everyone’s favorite park pet—but are you aware of how many serious diseases they carry? Not to mention them chewing up wires and cables, which can be extremely expensive. My potential investor is concerned, so I’ve come out on their behalf. When I happened to see the child there, I thought that local children might be drawn to the pests, not knowing the danger, and thought I’d ask.” She shrugged. “I would never, under any circumstances, hurt a child. But rudeness, I must admit, does make me a wee bit impatient.”
Alejo frowned. It was all reasonable. Assuming one was interested in developers and investment companies. Even her grabbing Sam could be explained—not forgiven—if she was one of those people completely unused to kids. But that reaction of Sam’s had not included any surprise. He’d recognized this woman.
“I think,” Alejo said, “if you want to find out more about the area, I suggest you speak to the owners. Not their kids. As for my mother, she’s currently traveling. If you leave me your card, I promise I will give it to her as soon as she returns.” And, he added to himself, he looked forward to her response—in two languages—once he told her about this encounter.
The woman withdrew an embossed card from the purse, and handed it over. A huge diamond glittered on her right hand.
He glanced at the card, which said simply,K’thrynne Nobett, and below that,Stella Porta Enterprises, and a phone number in the corner.
“Thank you, Ms. Nobett,” Alejo said, remaining where he was. “I’ll give this to my mother.”
She hesitated, then up came the smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and she said, “Thank you Mr... Hidalgo.”
Alejo did not correct her.
“I appreciate that. Call if you have questions.” She turned and minced down the path as gracefully as she could in high heels.
He waited until he heard the purr of the car engine, then once again shifted, keeping himself in invisible mode, and flew fast to the ranch house. When he spotted Wendy crossing the terrace, her eyes wide and worried, he divebombed to the edge of the garden, shifted from behind the safety of one of those broad oaks, and stepped out to meet her.
“Oh, there you are,” Wendy exclaimed.
“Sam told you what happened?” he asked.
“Yes. And I gather he’s seen that woman around before. But he never told me, or anyone. We’re going to have a talk about that,” she added under her breath. “But he told me he always ran away from her. But,squirrels?Pests? Godiva puts squirrel food out for them, because she knows Sam loves them.”
“And no animal or human in this garden has ever caught a disease from them, I’d guess, too,” Alejo said. “Godiva would have mentioned it if there was that kind of problem. I take it Ms. Nobett, or her company, has never knocked on your door?” He pointed back toward the shore.
“No, though I haven’t been in the house that much since I got it back. The roof leaks, for one thing,” she admitted. Her face closed, and her gaze dropped as she said, “My ex might have spoken to them. Maybe he even knows the company. He’s…always interested in investment opportunities, you could say.” She looked away.
Alejo learned two things about Wendy’s ex from that admission: first, Wendy did not talk to him about everyday matters, or she’d know whether or not the guy had dealings with Stella Porta, and two: Alejo strongly suspected that Godiva was right about Bill Champlain being a first-class jerk.
Avoiding the subject of the ex, he said, “I was thinking we could look up the number in the reverse white pages. Curious to see what turns up.”
“Should we try to call?” Wendy said. “But we’re sure to get a front desk person, who might know very little. I used to be one.”
He nodded. He’d dealt with enough front office smoke and mirrors over the years, when rescuing animals from bad situations, to suspect he’d just get a runaround.
“I’ll check with Godiva when I get a phone up and running, which I’ll get to one of these days. In the meantime, I’m kind of enjoying the quiet life, being totally unconnected.” He won a little smile from her as they started back toward the house. “I also wanted to see if I could help you get the dinner going. Oh. That reminds me. I happened to have some spare bits in my truck, so I fixed the loose starter in your engine. It took all of three minutes.”
She pinked delightfully. “Thank you! I have to admit, my parents’ old mechanic looks at me and sighs when he sees that car roll in again. That was very, very kind of you, and if you’ll tell me—”
Alejo held up a hand. “I can hear Godiva stirring from two thousand miles away. If she were to find out I’d taken a dime for a couple minutes’ work, you’d think a meteor had landed on my head. Mmmm…what is that terrific smell?”
She pinked some more, but let it go. “And as it happens, I have the dinner already in the crockpot,” she went on. “I was hoping we could eat early, as it’s Friday. Godiva might have told you there’s a writers’ group, and she’s always been after me to join it. I thought I might try tonight. Maybe it’ll help me get unstuck in my project. But I won’t bore on about that,” she said hastily. “Thank you, ever so much, for coming to Sam’s rescue. And for, well, for fixing my car.”
Her voice climbed higher and brighter with every word, closing him off behind that wall of politeness and imagined imposition. He said, “No problem. Glad to,” but inwardly he could not prevent a sense of discouragement as he headed to his room to stash Ms. Nobett’s card, and to take a quick shower. One step forward, three back. But every step, he vowed as the water sluiced over him, was worth it.
SIX
WENDY
