Do You Love Me? Page 3

  She put two one-hundred-dollar bills in an envelope and placed it on a table in the front entry.

  Pedro did not come for his money that day nor the next, nor did he appear anytime that week. Savanna was annoyed by how often she thought of him. He even wandered through her dreams at night.

  The envelope taunted her. Each time she passed, it drew her thoughts back to the blistering morning, the memory of Pedro’s startling, insolent eyes and his automaton’s body with its muscular arms and hands.

  Savanna toyed with the idea of going back out to the construction site with the money, but dismissed it, considering the lines of traffic and nowhere to pull off except pasture land. That couldn’t be good for her car.

  She was out of sorts over days of trying to dismiss the whole matter from her mind when the doorbell rang on a Sunday night at nine-thirty.

  Angus and Merriam had already retired to their quarters on the other side of the garage, so Savanna, barefooted, in shorts, her half-shirt swinging loose at her waist, answered.

  He stood quietly, a clean straw hat in his hand.

  “Pedro.” She smiled, but not too brightly. It was late and he seemed somehow threatening, towering over her, his clean white T-shirt tight over his broad shoulders. Dark hair that covered his squarely etched chest and flat stomach was visible, smushed beneath the fabric. The shirt’s sleeves strained over the muscles of his upper arms that flexed as he slid the hat brim round and round through his fingers. The insolent eyes swept her up and down, from her ponytail to her bare feet, and he sucked in his cheeks, obviously biting back a smile.

  His own hair was slicked back and tied low on his neck, his ponytail fuller than hers. The scent of Old Spice wafted about him reminding her of warm summer nights in high school, memories that made tiny hairs bristle on her forearms.

  He took a step forward but Savanna stood her ground. She didn’t want him inside, didn’t want to be alone with him, not at night, not when his appearance and scent had such a seductive effect.

  He shuffled slightly to one side and the foreman, Gus-Gus, his hat also in his hands, stepped up. “Ma’am.”

  She relaxed, yielded a broad smile and exhaled, fears forgotten at the sight of the chubby foreman’s conciliatory grin.

  “He made me come, ma’am. This was the first evening I could get away. He’s been in my hip pocket more than a week, nagging me.”

  Savanna felt her glow diminish. “Well sure he wanted to come. He wanted his money.” Forcing herself to brighten again, she looked at Pedro. “It’s right here.” She hurried to retrieve the envelope from the hall table and turned back, speaking to the foreman. “I called three places. They said a hundred dollars would cover the work but not the service call or the mileage. I made it two hundred so Pedro would realize how much I appreciated his help.”

  She stepped over the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her, and offered Pedro the envelope, but he shook his head and waved it off.

  “It’s yours. You earned it,” she said.

  Pedro shook his head again and nodded at the foreman, prompting him. She looked to the older man, puzzled.

  “He wants a favor from you, instead of the money.”

  “What favor?” She looked from one to the other. Pedro stared at his feet, refusing to meet her gaze. The foreman seemed ill-at-ease.

  “He wants to be your student. He wants you to teach him to be a gringo.”

  Savanna’s head shook her negative response even before her thoughts became words. “I’m a businesswoman, not a teacher.”

  “He wants you to help him pass as a gentleman in your world. He wants to speak well enough to hold an office job, to conduct business, to advertise and accept bids, to order correctly in a restaurant, to do the things a well-bred American businessman is comfortable doing.”

  Studying Pedro, she grimaced. “He’s a grown man, not a child to be molded.” She glared at the foreman. “His habits are set. He is who he is.” She paused. “And he already has a good job, one you said he does well.”

  “He wants more.” The man regarded Pedro sadly. “He is very good at his job but he is not satisfied. He has advanced as far as he can within our company. He wants to own his own business someday. To have that, to bid on contracts, he believes he must learn about day-to-day life in an American household. He has no access to such a thing.” He shot a quick look at Pedro who nodded, prodding him to continue.

  “Something you said when you drove together made him think you could teach him all he wants to know, and that you would be willing to do so.” Savanna tried frantically to recall what she had said during their time together in the truck. “He refused to tell me where he got this idea but he insisted we come here and that I present his request.”

  Savanna exhaled noisily. The idea was preposterous. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Gonzales. Ramon Gonzales.” He handed her a dog-eared business card, which she palmed.

  “Mr. Gonzales, I am a single woman. I live alone.”

  The foreman glanced at Pedro who shook his head ever so slightly. Savanna’s gaze followed the foreman’s to catch Pedro’s reaction.

  “Well, actually, an older married couple lives on the grounds.” She gestured generally in the direction of the garage. “They have their own quarters, away from the house. They’re employees, my housekeeper and her husband. But none of my family lives on the premises. It would not look right for Pedro to come here regularly.”

  “Pardon, Ms. Cavendish, but how old a woman are you?”

  She allowed a smile. “I’m thirty-two.”

  “And you have never married?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Pardon me, again, but do you like men?”

  She gave a sardonic laugh. “Yes, I like men, generally, just none specifically.”

  “You do not live with a man?”

  “Correct.” She felt her privacy violated by such personal questions, but they were framed the way a small child might inquire; innocent, guileless questions, prompting her quick forgiveness. “I do not.”

  Pedro’s eyes were hooded, half closed, but Savanna thought he looked pleased with the conversation.

  “If you were to, say, employ Pedro to live here, as your housekeeper and gardener do, to help tend your grounds and your cars, would his being on your estate make for gossip among your friends?”

  Savanna thought a moment. Live here? Out of the question. No one would know, of course. But what if people found out? Carol probably wouldn’t be a problem, but Kitty Marino and her crowd could be treacherous. Live here? What an outrageous idea. No way. Still, maybe there was something. There was the room over the garage, full of junk, but nothing that couldn’t be stored elsewhere.

  No, no, no. What in the world was she thinking?

  They could clear space enough for a bed up there. The quarters had no running water. Of course, the garage was adjacent to the cabana by the pool, which had a bathroom. In fact an outside stairway ran directly from the storage room to the cabana.

  The unbearable daytime heat relented to only hot at night. But there were plenty of windows. With a fan or a window unit…

  Why was she even considering such an outrageous idea? And why had Pedro thought she might?

  She had reflected out loud that day in the truck about wanting to help the poor, one-on-one. She was thinking of doling out cash. He’d listened. Understood. Put his own spin on her words. That realization carried several implications. First, it meant he understood some, maybe most, of what she’d said, in English. Secondly, it meant he was intelligent enough to capitalize on her guilt. Just how clever was he? What would it take to get rid of him?

  She gave Gonzales a weak smile before she looked at Pedro. “What kinds of things did you say he wants to learn?”

  Mr. Gonzales rolled his hat brim through his fingers and looked as if he were convinced of Pedro’s sincerity. “He wants to learn to eat properly and deport himself in a mannerly way, to study off
ice operations, to learn business banking and bookkeeping, to dress appropriately. His list is very long.”

  It was ridiculous. Yet for some time Savanna had been aware of an emptiness in her life, the absence of a challenge. Here was a bold new project that would require her to provide more than money. She had preached about the rich taking responsibility for improving conditions for the poor. This might be a chance to put theory to practice, her investing a bit of herself to alter the life of one man who came willingly under her tutelage.

  “How much time is he willing to give to this project?”

  The foreman’s face twisted but Pedro nudged him. “He says he is a grown man who wants to be a virtuoso and he comes to the training for this career late in life. He wants to study with you full time. He wants you to turn him into an American businessman.

  “He is willing to dedicate himself, to it full-time?” Without looking at her, Pedro nodded to her question. “To do exactly as I direct?”

  The iridescent green eyes darted to hers and held as Pedro again nodded, this time more slowly. Her gaze locked with his and they stared into one another.

  “Are we talking a five-day work week?” she asked.

  Pedro shook his head quickly and held up seven fingers.

  “All day every day? What about my life? I have a company to run, other interests: family, friends.” Her attention broke from Pedro’s hypnotic stare and flew to the foreman.

  Gonzales gave her a sympathetic smile. “He would be willing to accompany you as part of his training, always in your service. He will keep to the shadows, observing. Run errands. Drive you. Do anything you ask. See you safely home each night.”

  It was insane. Who would dream up such a scheme? Do anything you ask? What was that supposed to mean? She looked at Pedro. The intensity in his eyes burned into her, as if he could read her thoughts.

  She had shamed others into helping with less worthwhile projects, but how could she explain this to them?

  “Let me think about it. There are a number of obvious obstacles.” Her wrist felt limp as she waved the envelope halfheartedly in front of Pedro. “It would be easier for both of us, if you just took the money.”

  His jaw tightened. He pushed the envelope aside and caught her wrist, which looked pale and fragile in his grasp. In that long silent moment she could feel his determination, his strength. She attempted to dissuade him with some telepathic warning, but she was caught up in a strange web of anticipation spun by the pulsing excitement emanating from him.

  As the sun creeps over the horizon, fingers of bristling light subduing the darkness and giving rise to the day, so did Pedro’s smile vanquish her last vestige of resistance as his white, even teeth glistened behind the drooping mustache.

  She needed to think, to consider objectively the pros and cons of such a time-consuming project but she could not concentrate with Pedro looming over her, staring into her, touching her, her wrist still captive in his hand.

  In her heart, she knew at that moment that she would clear all the psychological hurdles. The indomitable human spirit glowing within this man demanded audience and instinct told her he was going to be her new, most challenging charitable project ever.

  Chapter Four

  “Okay, what’s up?” Carol regarded Savanna suspiciously as she picked up both highball glasses. Leaving the tray of fruit, bread and cold cuts for Savanna to carry, Carol led the way out to the poolside deck bathed in twilight.

  Trailing her, Savanna smiled. “What makes you think…?”

  “Come on. Don’t play games. We both know you’re excited about something. What’s going on?”

  Savanna lowered herself onto a chaise, placing the tray of edibles on the table between their chairs. Instead of leaning back, she perched upright on the side of the lounge, wringing her hands as if applying hand lotion. “Do you remember Pedro?”

  A knowing smile broke over Carol’s face. “Who could forget Pedro?” Her eyebrows arched villainously. “That’s what has been missing all summer, a juicy scandal. Are you about to contribute?”

  Savanna grimaced, trying to quell Carol’s know-it-all grin. “He wouldn’t take the money.”

  “You’ve seen him, then?”

  “Yes. He and Mr. Gonzales…”

  “Who’s Gonzales?”

  “The foreman, remember? The interpreter?”

  Carol looked blank.

  “Gus-Gus.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course, Cupid in this piece.” Carol emitted an evil little chuckle.

  “Not exactly. Anyway, they stopped by last night.”

  “Together?”

  Savanna exhaled. “Are you going to let me tell this, or not?”

  “Beg pardon. I didn’t realize we were dealing with sensitive material.”

  Savanna slumped. “They came by. I had his money in an envelope and tried to give it to Pedro. He refused to take it.”

  “Was he cleaned up?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of. Anyway…”

  “I’ll bet he cleans up nice.”

  Savanna was growing exasperated. “Not really. His hair was slicked back and he had on clean clothes.” She hesitated, remembering the intoxicating smell of the man before she could rein in her mutinous hormones. “His hands were clean but there was no big transformation, I promise. Mr. Gonzales said Pedro wanted another kind of reward.”

  A Cheshire Cat grin spread over Carol’s face and Savanna winced. “No, not that. He wants me to tutor him.”

  The grin dimmed. “You mean teach him proper English?”

  “No, well, yes, too, but mostly in social graces. He wants to be able to pass as a gentleman in polite society and in business.”

  “You’re kidding.” Carol shot her a renewed, crooked grin. “You told him, of course, that society around here ain’t all that polite.”

  “No, I didn’t. I did tell them I was no teacher. But Pedro wouldn’t let me off the hook and it was too easy to remember how hot it was out there and how helpless we felt stranded. I told him it would be better all the way around if he took the money. He looked like he agreed, that it would be for the best, but he refused.”

  Carol leaned back in her lounger, crossed her legs at the ankles and regarded her friend curiously. “Why would you even think of doing this?”

  Savanna blinked against the setting sun, inhaling the faint scent of chlorine. She associated that smell with the leisure of summer. Summer was nearly gone, another season ticking by, her life easing on toward…obsolescence.

  “I planned my life in two-year stints. After high school, if I liked college, I’d get a degree and join the Peace Corps. You remember.”

  Carol shrugged. “I remember you jumping into politics right after you got your B.A. Did Madden ever thank you for helping him into the governor’s chair?”

  “He did, but I was tired of politics by then. It was time to move on.”

  Savanna took several sips of her drink before Carol prodded her. “Was that when you got into the numbers racket?”

  “Lannihan’s is a brokerage house, not the numbers racket.” Savanna couldn’t help laughing. “I never intended bean counting to be my life’s work.” Her laugh dwindled and she frowned at the pool. “Then I threw myself into hospice.”

  Only half listening, Carol created a tiny sandwich with cheese and cold cuts, no bread. “That’s very specialized work, Susu, holding hands with people who are facing death.”

  “It was a fiasco. I didn’t have enough faith or dedication or something. I hated finding out what a dud I was with people, hands-on. But it was a valuable lesson. I was better off avoiding direct contact with people.” She sipped her drink. “This project with Pedro will be high risk because I’ll again be trying to help someone person to person. I’ll be required to give something of myself to someone else. We already know I don’t do that very well.” She looked to her friend for comment. But Carol’s mouth was full and she adopted a Thinker’s pose as she munched. Savanna heaved a heavy sigh.

/>   “Carol, I’m floundering. Work at the plant is humdrum. My personal life is nonexistent. I need something to stimulate my juices, to infuse enthusiasm into my life.”

  “So, you want me to rubber stamp whatever it is you told Pedro you’d do?”

  Savanna clenched and unclenched her hands in exasperation. “No.” “I haven’t told him I’d do anything…yet.”

  Savanna stood. All her life, she had secretly expected to be diverted from her career by a man, by marriage, by children. Although she sometimes indulged in sex, she hadn’t been able to expose the most intimate part of herself, her soul, to another person.

  There had been several men, most of them like Darryl, hoverers who reminded her of buzzards wheeling, waiting for a piece of roadkill to give up its struggle.

  Savanna shivered at the buzzard analogy. She was afraid someday she would weaken and someone like Darryl would be there, poised, talons sharpened.

  Carol’s eyes developed a suspicious twinkle as she licked her fingers. “You definitely have to do it, Susu. I’ll help. We’ll take this project on tag team. Do it for the benefit of humanity.” She dusted her hands on the legs of her slacks, leaped to her feet and threw a fist in the air. “Geronimo! Let’s do it!”

  Savanna was taken aback. “You mean together?”

  Carol’s expression changed to sultry. “Certainly, darling. You may have no need of a man like Pancho…er…Pedro, but I’m recently divorced and I don’t like doing without. I’ll allow him to service me as part of your incentive package. A little bonus. Judging by the size of the man’s feet, I’d say he’s well hung, and I can slip something extra in with the money you pay him.”

  “I plan to pay him for gardening and working on cars, Carol, not for services.” Savanna felt as if she were not keeping pace with the conversation. “And what do his feet have to do with…?”

  “Susu, it’s the old wives’ tale about the correlation between the size of a man’s feet and the size of his yang.”

  Savanna stared at her friend who stared back.

  “You know, as in first name Yin?”

  “Good grief, Carol, that’s a crass thing to toss into a casual conversation, don’t you think?”