Chasing Sunsets Part 12

I turned and looked at the woman. She seemed so small. She wore white shorts-which seemed all the whiter by the tan of her thin legs-and a yellow sleeveless tee. Her short salt-and-pepper hair framed her face. Her eyes were green, greener still against the backdrop of the water. She wore an expression I well knew. "You took these, didn't you?" I asked.

"I did."

"They're great." I returned the card and turned the display to view others. "What do you shoot with?"

"Just a point and shoot. I don't have anything fancy."

"But you have an eye . . ."

"Always shoot toward the light, I say. Keep your eye on the light and everything else will fall into place."

I pulled a few cards then and said, "So you sell these?"

The woman nodded. "My name is Anne."

"Well, Anne . . . do I pay you or Edie?"

"Edie." She blinked then added, "What do you shoot with?"

"What?"

"Your camera."

"Oh, I don't have . . . how did you know?"

"You asked me what I shoot with. Only camera buffs and serious photographers use that terminology. Otherwise you would have just asked me what kind of camera I have. Even that would have been a giveaway. Most people don't know to ask."

I looked down at the short stack of cards now in my hand. "I haven't taken any photographs in a while." Then I looked up and smiled. "But these are impressive, Anne. Thank you."

I left after paying for the cards, returned to my car, and headed toward 2nd and E Streets. Edie was correct when she said that if I wasn't looking for the realty office, I wouldn't find it. It was safely tucked behind a white picket fence and a blanket of shrubbery. I parked the car, then walked up the steps of the expansive front porch.

A hot cross breeze blew from end to end, causing the cl.u.s.ters of white wicker front porch rockers to sway back and forth and the large baskets of hanging ferns to wave in the sunlight. Overhead, the narrow boards of the porch ceiling were sky blue and had fluffy c.u.mulus clouds painted on them. It was the next best thing to being in the open.

The bronze placard to the right of the front door was as una.s.suming as the location. A plate with "Come On In" engraved on it was adhered to the white wooden door. I knocked anyway.

"Come on in!" the voice of a woman ordered.

I opened the door by way of an old bra.s.s k.n.o.b. It squeaked in response.

A woman who appeared to be in her thirties sat on the other side of an L-shaped desk in a room that had, at one time, served as the living room of someone's home. Sixteen-by-twenty glossy photographs of Cedar Key landmarks were framed and hung on burnt orange walls trimmed with cream-colored baseboards and ornate crown molding. "Can I help you?"

I discreetly wiped at the sweat beading over my lips. "I'm looking for Rosa Fuentes."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

The air seemed to go still around me. The scent of vanilla from a burning candle on a small table across the room and near the sitting area made me feel lightheaded and unsure of myself. "No," I said. "I'm an old friend."

"Your name?"

"Kimberly Tuck-Kimberly Claybourne."

The woman stood. I watched her as she walked out of the room, past open eight-panel gla.s.s French doors, which led into another room, and then disappeared around a corner to the right. I stood listless for a moment, then walked to the sitting area. I sat on the contemporary winter white sofa splayed with an a.s.sortment of brightly colored throw pillows. I felt the cus.h.i.+ons envelop me, but I didn't sit back. I crossed my ankles and kept my back straight. A moment later the woman returned and said, "Rosa said to come on back."

I followed the point of the woman's coral-painted nail to the direction she'd just come from. I went into a square hallway that opened up to four doors, all of which were closed. I felt like a contestant on the television show I heard Dad talk about-the one where people dressed up and had to choose a door to get a prize. Door number one . . . door number two . . .

"It's that door right there," the woman said from behind me. "Right in front of you."

I stepped to the door and tapped with the knuckle of my index finger.

"Please come in."

The voice was rich with Latin flavor.

I opened the door.

The room was painted the color of fresh cream, and the carpet-thick and luxurious-was the same. The U-shaped desk positioned near the floor to ceiling window was ultra-contemporary cherry and gla.s.s. Everything about the room from the wall hangings to the ficus at the left of the window screamed success.

A pet.i.te dark-skinned beauty stood in the center of the U. Her black hair was pulled back in a chignon; rebellious wisps had managed to fight their way to hang loose about an oval face. Her eyes were as black and penetrating as I'd remembered and the lips just as pouty. The package as a whole was dramatic to say the least.

"Rosa."

I expected my old friend would run around the desk and that we would embrace in a long-overdue hug. Instead, she extended her hand for a shake and said, "Kimberly. It's been a long time."

I couldn't for the life of me remember her ever calling me by my full name. When she heard Dad call me "Boo" she would too. Otherwise she called me Kim and sometimes even "Boo-Boo." But never Kimberly.

I took her hand. It was cold and unfriendly.

"Have a seat," she said, indicating a chair on the other side of her desk. She returned to her executive's chair as she said, "Are you shopping for a vacation home?"

"No. I . . ." I cleared my throat. This was not going at all the way I'd expected since Steven had suggested Rosa's contacts. "How have you been, Rosa?"

She looked around the room and said, "Busy, as you can see. Cedar Key is back on the upswing in rentals and sales."

I expected her to ask about me. When she didn't I said, "I'm sorry about your mother."

I watched her swallow hard, press her lips together, and then look out the window. The sunlight revealed the s.h.i.+mmer of tears pooling in her eyes. She took a deep breath and turned back to me. "She was one of a kind."

"She was for sure."

She pursed her lips, then parted them and said, "How can I help you then?"

My shoulders sank between the blades. "I was told you may be able to help me find someone to replace your mother as a housekeeper for Dad and Anise."

"There will never be a replacement for my mother." Rosa's words were clipped and barely audible, but I made them out just fine.

"Well, no . . . that much is for sure. Still, Dad wants me to find someone to-"

"Why didn't he come then?"

"Dad had some pressing issues at the office and . . . to be honest, Rosa, he thought that if I came it would give me something to do while my sons are with their father for the summer."

Rosa's face softened. "You have sons?"

"Two. Chase and Cody."

Rosa reached for a polished silver frame on her desk and turned it toward me. Three handsome boys reflected their mother's stunning beauty. They looked like models. "I have three."

I noticed then the wide band over a ma.s.sive engagement ring on her left hand. "You've done well, Rosa."

"I've worked myself nearly silly to get here." The ice in her voice had returned, and I was completely at a loss as to why.

"I saw Steven Granger last night. He said you may have a suggestion for someone to help with the house."

Rosa leaned back in her chair. "That must have been quite the reunion." Then she smiled, catlike. "He's still something else to look at, isn't he?"

I felt my face grow hot, and I blinked several times in an effort to gain my composure. "I guess. Rosa, I just need to find someone to clean the house on a regular basis so I can get back to Orlando."

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I'll see what I can come up with."

"I appreciate that."

"Have you done anything else to try to find someone? An ad in the Cedar Key News perhaps."

"The paper? I hadn't thought of that. I did put up a flyer down at the market."

"That's good."

"You know, the kind with the bottom cut for tearing off."

"Of course." Then she stood. "Well, perhaps between all that we can come up with something."

I was being dismissed. Just like that.

I stood too. "Thank you." I opened my change purse and pulled out a piece of paper I'd earlier folded and placed within it. "Here's my cell number. I look forward to hearing from you."

Rosa took the paper, placed it on her desk as though it were a piece of lint, and said, "Like I said, I'll see what I can come up with." She forced a smile. "Good to see you again, Kimberly."

"You too, Rosa," I said, then turned and left the office, feeling a little like I'd just left a freezer.

13.

I checked on Patsy that afternoon before I went inside to get ready for my evening with Steven. She was "Facebooking" with one of her grandchildren. "Just let me know when you want me to get you set up," she told me.

I a.s.sured her I'd be asking soon.

At home, Max was more than a little happy to see me. He shot past me in a blur, his nails clipping the stairs as he bounded toward the yard. I watched as he found his spot and then ambled off toward Patsy's, presumably in search of Oreo.

I went inside then. I took a long tepid shower to cool me from the day's heat and humidity, then went to the closet and stared into it. I had no idea what to wear. Was Steven taking me someplace fancy and intimate or to one of the more casual tourist eateries? After determining that surely this was going to be more of an informal date, I chose a cotton scoop-neck summer dress covered in red, yellow, and green flowers. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, took it down, then put it back up again.

Not being one to wear much in the way of makeup, I applied a tinted lotion to my face followed by a single stroke of mascara and a light coral lip gloss.

While I waited, I went into the living room and dialed Dad's cell phone number. He answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Boo. How's it going there?"

Right to business. I hadn't found anyone yet to replace Eliana, and I felt the slow dance of not measuring up swirl inside of me. "A couple of things look promising. I posted a notice down at the market, and last night I ran into someone, who suggested that I stop in and talk with Rosa. Did you know she owns a real estate business here?"

Dad was quiet for a moment before saying, "Yes, I know. I see Rosa every so often when I'm over there."

"Oh."

"What did Rosa say? Anything of interest?"

"Not really. In fact . . . well, never mind. I asked if she could help me find someone to clean the house. She seemed pretty noncommittal about it."

"I'm sure she's very busy."

"I guess."

"Anything else? Have you talked with the boys?"

I smiled. "Yes. They're doing fine."

"Good."

From where I sat, I saw Max running across the back lawn. "Dad," I said. "I met Patsy next door. Max and her cat have become fast friends."

Dad chuckled. "Ah, Patsy. She's a sport, isn't she?"

"She's something else. She's going to teach me Facebook so I can stay in better contact with Chase, and he can keep me up to date on Cody."

"Facebook . . . I don't know how hardworking adults have the time."

It was my turn to laugh. "Me either, Dad." I sighed. "Well, if I get a nibble, I'll let you know, okay?"

"Sounds good."

I ended our call and stretched. Thirsty, I decided to get a bottle of water from the wet bar pint-sized refrigerator. As I twisted the cap, I noticed the framed photograph next to the bar, one my mother had taken. It was of various-sized bar gla.s.ses, lined up and gleaming in either the early morning or the late afternoon sunlight. I leaned toward the 8-by-10 matted work and noticed for the first time that every gla.s.s held the telltale sign of a woman's lipstick. Each gla.s.s was turned so that the impression of lips faced the bottom right corner of the photo.

It was as if Mom had kissed the scene before she photographed it. "She was truly something else," I whispered.