Alejandro's Revenge. Anne Mather
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wished one of them could have come to meet her if their daughter couldn’t. They must have known she’d be worried about her brother. Had something happened? Had something gone wrong? Was that why they were bringing her here?
Perhaps he was dead!
The horrifying thought came out of nowhere. It couldn’t be true, she told herself fiercely. Dear God, she’d only spoken to him two days ago, and, although he hadn’t spared her the details of the car smash that had resulted in him being hospitalised, at no time had he given her the impression that his condition was critical. He’d been upset, yes; resentful, even. But she’d understood that that was because he still felt like a stranger, hospitalised in a strange country.
Though that was a little ridiculous, too. Technically, Edward was a US citizen. He’d lived in Florida for over three years, and for the last two of those years he’d been married to Lauren Esquival. Well, she’d changed her name to Lauren Leighton when she’d married Edward, of course, Abby corrected herself. Even if it had always been hard to attribute such an Anglo-Saxon surname to her essentially Hispanic sister-in-law.
Abby heaved a sigh.
Something told her this was not going to be an uneventful visit. And, remembering Ross’s reaction when she’d told him what she planned to do, going home was not going to be without incident either. Her fiancé—it was still hard to think of him in those terms—had never been one to pull his punches. In his opinion it was high time Edward grew up and started taking responsibility for his own actions, instead of calling on his sister every time he had a problem.
Which wasn’t entirely fair, thought Abby a little defensively. All right, when he was younger Edward had been something of a tearaway, and he had relied on his sister to get him out of many of the scrapes he’d got himself into. Nothing too serious, of course. Lots of youths his age had spent money they didn’t have. He wasn’t a criminal. Nevertheless Abby had spent a goodly portion of her teens and early twenties paying his debts.
Then, when he was nineteen, he’d had what to him had seemed the brilliant idea of going to work in the United States. He’d been studying for a catering diploma at the time, and although Abby had had her doubts when he’d started the course he’d definitely shown an aptitude for the work.
Or perhaps his diligence had been due in part to his infatuation with one of his fellow students, Abby reflected a little cynically now. Whatever, when Selina Steward had taken off for Florida Edward had wasted no time in getting the necessary paperwork and following her.
Abby had been twenty-four then and, although she’d never have admitted as much to Edward, she’d been desolated by his departure. For so long he’d been an integral part of her life. She’d shunned any lasting relationships to be the mother he hardly remembered, and when he’d left she’d had only her career as a teacher to console her.
Still, she’d survived, she conceded ruefully. And she’d been glad when Edward had adapted well to his new surroundings. She’d even convinced herself that it would work out when he’d phoned to say he was going to marry the daughter of the man who owned the Coconut Grove restaurant where he worked. The fact that he and Lauren had only known one another for a matter of months wasn’t important, he’d insisted. And, what was more, Abby had to come over for the wedding…
But she was digressing. The wedding and its painful aftermath were long over, and she had to focus on why she was here now. But even the sight of acres of manicured turf—courtesy, so the sign read, of the Alhambra Country Club—and the sunlit plaza that adjoined it couldn’t compensate for the feelings of anxiety that were growing inside her. If only she knew what was going on. If only she knew how Edward was, where he was…
He had to be all right, she told herself fiercely. She’d never forgive herself if anything had happened to him. All right, as Ross had so painstakingly pointed out, she couldn’t hold herself responsible for Edward’s decision to move to Florida, and at twenty-two he was surely old enough to look after himself. But Edward would always be her little brother, and Abby supposed it was her own thwarted maternal instinct that made her so protective of him still.
But that was something else she didn’t want to get into now. Looking down, she massaged her finger where Ross’s diamond sparkled with a cold light. They’d been engaged since Christmas, after knowing one another since before Edward had left for the States. But it was only in recent months that they’d become close.
And now Edward was causing a rift between them. Ross considered her decision to come rushing out here at her brother’s behest nothing short of foolhardy. They were planning to get married in six months, for heaven’s sake, he’d protested. Wasting money on airfares to Florida, when she had no real proof that her brother was in any danger, was downright stupid.
Well, Ross hadn’t exactly said she was stupid. He was far too prudent for that. But he had maintained that after they were married things would be different. She would have to stop behaving as if Edward still needed her to hold his hand.
Abby grimaced. When they were married. Somehow the words had even less conviction here than they’d had back in London. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for Ross, she told herself. She did. Perhaps she’d just been single too long. Why did she find it so hard to contemplate putting her future in any man’s hands?
Or had Alejandro Varga…?
But once again she steered her thoughts away from that disastrous memory. Like her mother’s desertion, and her father’s subsequent death from alcohol poisoning, it was all water under the bridge now. It had no bearing on the present. She was here to support Edward and nothing else.
Unless Alejandro visited his cousin while she was here.
But that wouldn’t happen, she assured herself. His association with Lauren’s parents had seemed tenuous at best. As far as she remembered Alejandro was a distant cousin of Mrs Esquival, and his presence in their home had been because of the wedding. Besides, he had a wife. And somehow Abby didn’t think he’d want to introduce them.
Her throat tightened in spite of herself, and she was glad that the sudden slowing of the car brought her quickly back to the present. For a few moments she’d been lost in thought, but now she saw that they had entered the residential district where she knew the Esquivals had their estate.
It wasn’t an estate such as was meant by the word back in England, of course. The Esquivals’ property comprised a rather large villa set in cultivated grounds. There was no parkland surrounding it, no gatehouse. Just a high stone wall protecting it from public view.
The names of the various streets they passed were appealing, and Abby forced herself to look for South Cutler Road, where Lauren’s parents lived. Fortunately it was nowhere near Old Okra Road, where Alejandro had his house. She’d have been far more apprehensive if it was.
Abby was just admiring the Renaissance façade of the newly refurbished Gables Hotel when the chauffeur turned his head and spoke to her over his shoulder. ‘I guess this is your first visit to Florida, ma’am,’ he said, albeit with a heavy Spanish accent, and Abby was so taken aback that for a moment she could only stare at him.
‘I—my second,’ she got out at last, trying not to feel aggrieved that he’d waited so long before speaking to her. Also, being addressed as ‘ma’am’ took some getting used to, as well. She touched her hair defensively. Did she really look that old?
‘So you’ve been to the Esquivals’ house before?’ he went on, and she swallowed.
‘Is that where we’re going?’ she asked, gathering her composure with an effort. ‘What about my brother? Do you know how he is?’
‘No one told me anything about that, ma’am,’ responded the chauffeur annoyingly. ‘But as he’s staying with the Esquivals right now I guess you’ll soon find out.’
Abby’s jaw dropped. ‘He’s staying with the Esquivals?’ she echoed disbelievingly. ‘But—I understood he was in hospital.’
‘Guess he’s recovered,’ the man remarked