“Got it,” Jane said, looking slightly ill. “But he can’t plan the thing anyway. I already asked Ceinlys for help.”
Vanessa gawked. “You did?”
“Oh my goodness! Now that you mention it…” Ginger straightened, then leaned closer. “I saw her today on my way here. And guess who was with her?”
“Her new boyfriend?” Vanessa said, scrunching her nose. It was probably only right that her mother find happiness with a new man, but it still felt oddly…improper. Vanessa had seen the fervent love letters between her parents. It seemed impossible that something so fervid could cool and change into what they had—or didn’t have—now. And that had been one of the reasons why Vanessa had fought so hard against being with Justin. She couldn’t be sure that what they felt wouldn’t change, the way her parents’ feelings for each other had.
“No, Salazar!”
Everyone’s incredulous gazes swung toward Ginger.
“No way,” Vanessa breathed.
“Oh wow. Are they…um…” Jane cleared her throat. “Dating?”
“Are you sure?” This from Sophia.
“I’m positive. It was his Aston Martin, too.”
Vanessa shook her head, unable to believe what Ginger was saying. “So Dad picked Mom up?”
“Well, that’s generally how a woman ends up in the passenger seat of a car driven by a man…”
Sophia’s eyebrows pinched together. “What do you think it means?”
“I have no clue,” Vanessa said, throwing a hand up in the air. “I officially give up trying to figure my parents out.”
Chapter Seven
Ceinlys stared straight ahead, not trying to look at Salazar. It wasn’t easy. She had never been able to “switch him off” and ignore him like she could other men. His piercing blue eyes hadn’t lost their intensity. As a matter of fact, the years seemed to have made them sharper and more focused. The smooth skin stretched tightly over the harshly carved planes of his face, and if it weren’t for the hints of silver at his temples, most people would never guess he was a grandfather. The shadows and angles were sharper from weight loss, but there was a ropey strength to him that said he still took care of himself.
It was grossly unfair that he’d never developed a paunch or liver spots or…just aged badly in general. He even smelled like he used to—clean and fresh, with a hint of spicy cologne.
No wonder women barely half his age flocked to him. Even if he weren’t filthy rich, he would still be desirable.
And now he was free to do whatever he wanted…not that being married had ever stopped him.
Ceinlys sighed inwardly. She should’ve been thinking more clearly. If she had, she would’ve at least:
One. Not mentioned Wes’s budget for the wedding.
Two. Not brought up the grove, but waited until later to call Kimberly.
Three. Driven her own car.
If she’d had her car, she wouldn’t be clenching her jaw in an effort to sit utterly still, doing her best to ignore the goose bumps along her skin. She would like to have blamed the air-conditioning, but it wasn’t even set that high. Obviously, Salazar remembered that she didn’t like cold air blowing on her face.
No. It was him, sitting next to her. God, when was the last time they’d sat in silence for so long? Or they’d driven somewhere together?
“You know, I really need to speak to a florist,” she said finally. “We didn’t have to go to the grove today.”
“Yes, we do.”
She looked out the window and said nothing. He returned his attention to driving.
Less than ten minutes later the car reached the grove’s parking lot. It was adjacent to the three-story main house, which was made entirely of stones the color of bleached bones.
Or what should’ve been a three-story house. A big chunk of it was missing, as though a giant had punched through it. Several thick plastic sheets covered the hole and masked whatever damage lay inside.
“What happened?” she asked, her words barely above a whisper.
“An incident.”
“It looks like a train ran into it.”
“Close. A semi came barreling through the grove and slammed into the house. Thankfully, nobody was hurt…including the driver who’d fallen asleep at the wheel.”
“My goodness.”
“He was speeding at the time, with a lead foot on the accelerator. Apparently the man believed he could sleep and drive, but in his panic, he hit the wrong pedal.” Salazar’s lips twisted into that haughty sneer.
Ceinlys looked around. Now that she knew about the “incident”, it was clear where the truck had come through. There was a swath cut from the grove, the small citrus trees splintered and broken in a wavering line that led back to the highway. The wreckage cut through the picnic area with the manmade lake as well; the ground had been lacerated by twin black tire tracks riven deep into the grass.
The sight of mangled lime trees, crushed flowers and Osiria rose bushes sent a painful pang through her. This was where she’d finally admitted to herself that she loved Salazar…and later accepted his proposal.
“When did this happen?”
“Earlier in the week.” He watched her, his gaze unreadable. “The insurance companies and lawyers are talking.”
Which meant the attorneys on retainer for the Pryce family were going to squeeze the other parties until they bled. “How long is it going to take to repair?”
* * *
Salazar had only glanced at the reports. Seeing the destruction firsthand made it worse. This was where he’d brought Ceinlys numerous times, to woo and finally propose to. Perhaps it was fitting the place lay in ruins. “I don’t know. I don’t have time to supervise the crew.”
“Aren’t you going to hire a general contractor?” Ceinlys asked.
“Probably, but you know how they are.”
Her brow creased. “Actually, I don’t.”
“They need a lot of guidance.” He didn’t trust most of them to do anything to his satisfaction. The grove had stayed in his family for generations.
“Salazar, the grove must be restored.”
“For Iain and Jane’s wedding?” He snorted, although he didn’t feel like snorting. “It’d be cheaper and more economical to find another venue. If you want free, do it in one of our—the family’s—beach homes overseas.”
“I did consider that, but it will be too difficult to coordinate everything with only two months left.”
Irritation bubbled inside him. “Maybe Iain and Jane should’ve thought about that before foisting this on you. You aren’t their servant.”
“I am his mother.”
Salazar glared at the damage to the grove. “Well, they aren’t treating you like one, are they? If Iain wants a cheap wedding, he can do the work.”
“It’s not him. It’s Jane’s father.”
“Then let him do it.”
“Don’t be petty. He wants to do this for his daughter.”
“By making you do all the work? If the man’s too poor to pay for a venue, I’ll foot the bill.”