Untethered

35 | Questions

He appeared older, but whether he was fifty or eighty was anyone's guess. He had the look of a man who could easily be much younger than he actually was. His face was smooth, and his skin was the color of Dutch cocoa. His hair was close cropped and had a tight, kinky curl to it, and the only sign of age on him was the sparse grey hairs peppered throughout.

Soft, brown eyes with a velvety sheen peered down at her, and he smiled kindly as he greeted Emma with a voice that reminded her of the rich, mellow tones of a cello.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Emma," she answered with a tremulous smile, "I'm here to see Manuel Torres. I think he's expecting me?"

"Oh, of course!" his smile widened, showing two rows of perfectly straight, bright white teeth, "Manny's so excited, I could barely keep him still this morning. He's been talking about meeting his oldest friend's little girl non-stop for the past two days. It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Come on in, he's in the sunroom."

He stepped aside, beckoning her in so he could pull the door closed, while she obeyed, dumbfounded.

Dad's oldest friend? It never occurred to her that her father had any friends at all, no one came around after he died. At least, none that she knew about. Grandma and Grandpa never mentioned anyone, but then, she was venomously opposed to any discussion of her father, or of anything relating to him. An ache tugged at her chest as it occurred to her how difficult that must have been for her grandparents. She lost her father, but they lost their son, too, and in the selfishness marked by childhood, she'd hardly given that a thought.

"I didn't know anything about my dad's friends," she responded softly, "I came across a safe he had in my grandparents' basement recently, and found some paperwork with Mr. Torres' name on it, from his P.I. firm."

"Oh, well, that explains you calling out of the blue," the man grinned, walking ahead of her with an easy saunter. "I'm Ron, by the way, Manny's husband. You might as well call him Manny, too. Only his mother calls him Manuel, and it sets him on edge, and he will never accept Mr. Torres." He laughed, and it was pleasant to the ear, with smooth, dulcet tones, that immediately set Emma at ease.

Before she could respond, they reached the sunroom, and the man she assumed was Manny, was sitting in a comfortable-looking wicker armchair, having an argument with a rather noisy African Grey parrot. The room itself was as full of vegetation as the front of the house. Potted plants covered every spare centimeter of space. It reminded Emma a bit of the Como Conservatory. The walls, from what she could see, were painted a vibrant mango color, and the trim was more of that dark, mahogany wood.

Large French doors opened on the back garden, and it was as thoroughly landscaped as the front. Whereas Greta's yard was spacious, with large swathes of well-manicured lawn, Manny and Ron's garden resembled something more akin to an urban rainforest. The most outstanding feature, was the enormous vegetable garden that took up at least half the space. Emma just stood for a moment, taking all of this in, before her attention was drawn back to the animated man sitting in the large wicker chair.

"Gertrude, I swear upon all that is holy, I will let that dog eat you if you don't stop terrorizing him!" he scolded, with a slight Spanish accent tinging his words. "Mi Dios, chica terca! Your obstinate ways will get you killed if you don't smarten up!"

The little grey parrot bobbed its head up and down as if listening intently to him, and then started screeching again, ruffling her feathers.

Ron chuckled as they entered the room and walked over to Manny's chair where Gertrude fluttered up to perch atop his shoulder. "Manny, you have company. I'll take this naughty girl and make us all some lunch. Okay?" He leaned down and dropped a kiss on top of Manny's head before breezing out of the room to the garden speaking sweetly to the troublesome bird riding his shoulder.