Monty drove himself to Weston again on Monday. He respected Bea too much to skip her invitation. He debated wearing an old pair of jeans and faded tee, but again he respected her or maybe his upbringing was ingrained deeper than he wanted to admit. He had spent time the day before shaving his beard. It had served its purpose in disappointing his old man.
Bea answered the door herself, wearing cropped red pants and a safari print top. He felt overdressed in his dress pants.
"Always so handsome." Did a middle-aged woman cause him to blush? He presented her with her favorite chocolates. "Thank you. Lunch first, then you can go for a walk in my garden."
She led him to the breakfast room. They set the table with fresh-cut flowers and crisp linen napkins. Informal elegance had never been mastered in the Whitby home.
He pulled a chair out for his hostess. Her smile quickly turned down. "Is something wrong?"
"I used to be so jealous of your breakfast rooms. My father eats breakfast in the dining room in his suit, except Sundays when he wears golf clothes."
"Your father is a very serious man. I've always worried about you."
"Me?"
She refrained from responding as her cook brought out plates. Each plate had a seafood salad sandwich and fresh fruit.
"I hope you aren't expecting a drink. I have ice tea or lemonade."
He smiled. "You may be surprised, but I'm a big fan of water."
Most people assumed his drink of choice was vodka or gin. He was guilty of drinking water.
"Sparkling?"
"Tap is fine."
The cook placed a bowl of greens on the table. It was a nicer lunch than he ever ate at home.
"Rosa, please fill a pitcher with ice water?"
Monty smiled at the woman. She was shorter than her sister. Both had dark hair and eyes. He had met many beautiful women in his travels through Central and South America. His eyes followed her to the kitchen door, which she pushed open slowly. On the other side, the little girl stood holding a toy.
"Sage says she's family."
Bea smiled. "They are. I'm excited to be a grandmother, but I've been practicing with little Lina. I love her."
"I saw her the last time I was here with her aunt."
Bea nodded. "Sofia helps with Lina from time to time." Rosa appeared and Bea said, "I was telling Monty how special Lina is."
"She does love Miss. Bea."
Monty smiled. "It sounds mutual."
Rosa disappeared and Monty tasted his seafood. It was delicious and filled with various shellfish, including lobster.
"You said you worried about me."
Bea's face fell into a serious expression. "Trying to live up to Montgomery's expectation must be exhausting."
He nodded. "I've given up. Although he's more adamant than ever I become involved in his business."
"Don't you... Don't you want to do something more than play?"
"Believe me. I don't play all the time." He found the way to avoid personal questions was to supply personal information. "Seeing my therapist takes time."
Bea laughed. "With your father, I don't doubt it."
"I thought you liked my father."
"I never agreed with how hard he's been on you. Your mother tried, but even she couldn't influence him."
Monty nodded. Bea's only revelation was what she thought about his father. "I stopped trying to impress him years ago."
"I remember when you left for your gap year of travel. Your mother feared you would never return, but you did. Who would have known it was Vanessa's sons who left for good?" She shook her head. "Another father with high expectations, but he's mellowed."
"I like Trey. He's always nice to me."
"Probably because you dance with his wife."
Monty put his water glass on the table. "She told me he refuses to divorce her."
Bea scoffed. "I don't try to understand their marriage."
He thought of Jessica's mouth and felt regret. Would he refuse if she offered again? If he had any self-worth, he would.
He refilled his water glass as the condensation rolled down the side of the crystal pitcher.
"So Sage is having a baby."
He watched as Bea's face lit up. Would his mother feel similar joy if he ever became a father? Obviously, it required a different act from the one performed on him in his old room.
"I wonder if I could be a good father."
"You can be anything you want to be if you stop drinking. It's a good thing you and Sloane fizzled out, if you want children."
Fizzled out. He abruptly responded, "Why do you say that?"
"It's common knowledge she isn't keen on children."
Not common to him. "I meant fizzled out. She doused the flame and broke my heart." My spirit. Me. She broke him.
Bea smiled uneasily. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, "It's been years. What you need is a new wish."
Monty didn't believe in magic but would take a walk through the garden. It was part of his childhood playground.
"Go take as long as you need. When you return, we'll have something sweet."
"You'll spoil me. At home, I hardly eat anything better than peanut butter and jelly."
Bea laughed. "Could you imagine your father eating such a sandwich?"
"My father would disapprove of the delicious lunch we shared."
She clapped her hands. "Go. If anyone needs something good, it's you and Trey and Tori. See, you're in good company."
It didn't slip past Monty how she hadn't said Sloane. She had walked the garden paths countless times with him. When they were sixteen, they hid from the others and made out. The fragrant flowers conjured up the memories. His heart felt heavy as he approached the fountain. He had clutched the coin Bea pressed into his hand.
Afraid he'd chickened out, he quickly flipped the coin as he whispered. "Immune to kryptonite."
The coin disappeared in the pool. With Bea's talk of magic, he would have thought colored smoke would float up or chimes would play. There was nothing but the sound of the water and a sneeze. He turned around.
"Sorry." He shrugged. Sitting on the bench across from the fountain was Rosa's sister. "I didn't want to interrupt your moment. Are you a believer?"
He shook his head. "Bea insisted."
"Who are you? Sorry. That sounded rude."
He shook his head. "No. It's rude of me not to introduce myself. I'm Monty... Monty Whitby."
Her eyes widened in recognition. "I've heard of you?"
He laughed. "All bad, I'm sure."
"You think it's funny?"
He shrugged. "People will believe what they want." And I don't care enough. "No one cares about the truth."
"I do. I hate fake people and I know plenty."
He smirked. "I've met my share. I'm at a disadvantage because you know me, but I don't know you."
"I'm just the cook's sister."
He motioned to the bench. "May I?" She nodded and slid over. "Growing up, I was very close to our cook. I often wished she would have adopted me."
Her brown eyes widened. They were dark like black coffee. "Your parents?"
He shrugged. "My mother would miss me. You still haven't told me your name."
He honestly didn't understand why he told her about Alice.
"Sofia Mercado Cabrera. What happened to your cook?"
"Alice? Why do you think something happened?"
"You used past tense."
She was smart. "Can't slip anything past you. Next time we speak Sofia, you can ask me again."
"What makes you think we'll speak again?"
He shrugged. "We have twice. Are you hiding in the garden?"
It wouldn't have been a very good hiding spot. His mind wandered to happier days with laughter.
When his mind returned to the present, he met her coffee eyes. She said, "Your face is very expressive. You could be a model."
He chuckled. "I'm almost thirty. I have lines on my face." He had more lines than his mother, but he spent a lot of time in the sun and she had too many surgeries. "Are you a model?"
She shrugged. "I'm trying to be. My sister thinks I'm crazy. She wants me to work like her."
Monty nodded. "As a cook?"
"A nanny, but I want more."
She was beautiful with her long dark hair and olive skin tone. Neither she nor her sister spoke with an accent, but Julio did.
"Were you hiding from your sister?"
She nodded. "We fought. I should have stayed away while she was getting lunch ready. I only came to help with Lina."
"Do you help a lot?"
She shrugged. "When Miss. Bea has guests. Today Julio had to take Mr. Petersen someplace."
He nodded. On the surface, the comings and goings at the Petersen house were like the Whitby house, but the actors were very different. Why Bea and Celia were close friends was a mystery. Based on his hostess' conversation, she knew more than the persona his mother used in public, including at the foundation. If Bea ran the foundation, she would never hire a woman like Taylor. She would hire more women like the beautiful, smart one Ted scoffed up.
Maybe he should have taken his mother seriously when she tried pushing him on Mia. If he wanted a shot, he would have had to be honest. There was only one woman he wanted to know the truth. What he needed was courage and not the liquid kind.
"Bea is waiting to serve dessert." He stood and nodded. "It was very nice to meet you, Sofia. Until next time."
She stood too. She was tall, like Sloane. He instantly regretted his thought. She dressed nothing like the woman on his mind. Her faded denim had frayed holes down each long leg. Her full hips curved away from a small waist. He could see her navel with her cropped top. Her shape didn't match the stereotypical model. The industry erroneously thought tall and anorexic sold products.
They walked silently to the entrance of the garden, where he motioned her to go first. She walked towards the garages and he crossed the lawn to the patio. As he approached, there was movement in the window.