Rafael's Convenient Proposal
Mallory’s eyes danced. “From what you’ve told me, your brother is one of the most successful businessmen in the country. But because he’s a man, he doesn’t understand that a woman will stop whatever she’s doing long enough to try out new cosmetics.”
Her friend nodded. “Rafael’s wife, Isabell, the one I told you about who died ten years ago, was a natural beauty. She rarely used makeup or lipstick around him because he didn’t like it. He says all men prefer women au naturel, so he discounts its importance.”
“But he can’t discount the earnings of your shop now, can he.”
Again her friend grinned. “No, and it’s killing him to admit it.”
“In that case, it might be interesting for him to see the results of our marketing department’s studies done among men throughout Europe. I brought a chart with me. The Portuguese statistics, particularly, would be very illuminating if he ever took the time to look at them.”
“Tell me!” Lianor cried like a co-conspirator.
Mallory brushed the hair away from her cheek, getting caught up in the excitement with her. “Only twenty-one percent of Portuguese men prefer their women without lipstick.”
“I knew it!” her companion blurted.
“The other seventy-nine percent is divided; twenty-eight percent love their women in shocking pink lipstick, followed by seventeen percent who love lip gloss. Sixteen percent like pale pink and the softer shades. Ten percent prefer red, and seven percent like beige or brown.”
Laughter broke out on Lianor’s lips. “Rafael’s forte is marketing. As he says, ‘It’s all in the figures.”’
“He’s right. They don’t lie.”
“I can’t wait to show him that chart, but I’m afraid it will only upset him more.”
“Why? Surely he wants you to succeed!”
“It isn’t that. He’s been unhappy ever since I was hired.”
This was the first Mallory had heard of it. “I don’t understand. After college you worked in the marketing division of a large department store several years before joining the company.”
“That’s true, but I wasn’t the manager.”
“With your talents and background, you should have been,” Mallory stated emphatically. “What is it about your being in charge that bothers him so much?”
“That’s not the problem. Simply put, he wants me to get married, settle down and raise a family. You’d have to be a younger sister and Portuguese to understand. It’s a male thing here. He’s my older brother and protective and—”
“Say no more,” Mallory broke in. “I’ve met his type before. They’re alive and well in America too. You would know what I meant if you could have watched the television talk show I was on last night.” She proceeded to tell Lianor about her experience with Jack Hendley.
Lianor nodded. “Sounds like Rafael. He’s afraid I’ll never meet a man as long as I’m running a store, let alone one that sells women’s products. What he doesn’t realize is, I could go out every night of the week, and still not come across a man who truly interests me.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Mallory flashed her a compassionate glance. “In order to placate your brother, you might remind him that part of our new advertising campaign is geared to reaching the male population—that group looking for a special personal gift for his wife, girlfriend, or mother.
“Knowing what the Portuguese men want, the company is prepared to cater to their individual tastes. Assure him you’ll be meeting a lot of male customers as time goes by.”
“Unfortunately Rafael wants that miracle to happen now. Tonight!”
They both broke into laughter.
“It sounds like he loves you a lot,” Mallory observed.
“He does, and it’s mutual.”
Mallory already knew that. No matter the topic of conversation, since she’d first met Lianor, her brother’s name always managed to creep into the conversation.
Lianor flicked her another glance. “Your father was so nice and laid-back. Does he ever get upset because you’re not married yet?”
“Maybe,” Mallory murmured honestly, “but neither he nor mom has ever said anything. It’s probably because they didn’t marry until their early thirties. They don’t want to come off sounding like hypocrites.”
“My mother was just nineteen when she married my father. Rafael proposed to Isabell when she was only twenty.”
Rafael again. “What do you think’s the reason he hasn’t remarried?”
Her companion let out a deep sigh. “It isn’t for a lack of women! Most of the time I’m appalled at the lengths they go to in order to capture my brother’s attention. But the plain truth is, he loved Isabell so much, it almost killed him when she died. Since then he’s been devoted to Apolonia, and has buried himself in work.”
Apolonia. The niece with the beautiful name.
“Maybe you need to get busy and find him someone he could love. You know him better than anyone else. If he married again, he might not be quite as concerned about your single status.”
“Don’t count on it,” Lianor muttered. “However you’ve given me an idea to solve a problem that’s been plaguing me since he came to the store earlier today with bad news. It has shaken me for several reasons.”
The unexpected emotional throb in Lianor’s voice alerted Mallory that whatever was on her mind was serious. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventured quietly.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up, but you’re too good a listener.”
“I feel the same way about you. Why do you think I came to Portugal?”
Lianor’s head jerked around for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“You’re running the store so well, I didn’t really need to come. But since I was already in New York, it seemed the perfect opportunity to take you up on your offer to visit.”
“I’m glad you did, Mallory.”
“So am I.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday and the shop will be closed. I’ll take you sight-seeing. Give yourself a couple of weeks here and we’ll be able to cover the whole city on foot if you want.”
“Oh I want,” she assured the other woman. “If only I could take two weeks off to do nothing but soak up the atmosphere. Nevertheless tomorrow I’m hoping to sleep in and then lie on the beach. I haven’t had a real holiday since I went to work for Liz.”
“That’s too long to go without,” Lianor chastised her, in the nicest possible way of course.
Mallory’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Now that we have that settled, tell me about your brother’s bad news.”
In a few minutes she’d put Mallory in the picture.
“Maria’s virtually irreplaceable,” Lianor confided further. “We all love her, and Rafael has depended on her so totally, I’m worried. Of course he has Ines, his housekeeper. He can rely on her to help him with my niece, but it’s only a temporary solution.
“I have to face the fact that word of Maria’s fatal illness changed his whole world today. As for Apolonia, the loss will be devastating when she finds out Maria isn’t coming back.”
Mallory could only agree.
“My closest girlfriend from childhood has recently come out of an ugly divorce from her Spanish husband. She’s back from Madrid and needs something to absorb her time right now. Rafael has always known Joana and liked her. So has Apolonia. I’m thinking if she came to help, it would be good for all three of them.”
“You could be right,” Mallory said. “Given time, they might even fall in love. How nice would that be. Your best friend becoming your sister-in-law.”
“Don’t think I didn’t used to fantasize about it. However that was a long time ago, before Rafael fell for Isabell and dashed both our dreams.”
“You mean yours and Joana’s.”
“Yes. She was crazy about my brother.”
Somehow that news didn’t surprise Mallory, not if he was as remarkable as Lianor—in all the ways that really counted.
At this point they’d reached the coast, a breathtaking sight this time of night. The smell of the ocean intoxicated her. Waves crashed against the sand, creating froth that stood out in the darkness. She could hear the pounding surf, that familiar sound she craved almost as much as she craved air to breathe. She didn’t know how much she’d missed it until now.
They rounded a curve on the winding highway. Suddenly she let out a cry. There was a baroque palace on a cliff in the distance, lit up as if it hung in the sky. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing is real,” she whispered. “What’s the name of it, Lianor?”
“Rafael and I call it home, but the tourists know it as the Palacio D’Afonso.”
Speechless, Mallory’s head turned, unable to do anything but stare at her friend.
“It was one of several small palaces built by King Pedro the Second of Portugal. Some historians claim he had it built and named it in honor of his brother King Afonso who was paralyzed and died at the age of eleven. Others say he built it out of guilt after deposing Afonso and exiling him to the Azores while Pedro was acting regent.”
“Ooh—that doesn’t sound good.”
Lianor chuckled. “By the time my great-grandfather inherited it, the cost of keeping it up forced the family to turn it into a hotel so it wouldn’t pass from the D’Afonso line. Historians still argue whether it began through one of Pedro’s illicit liaisons with a courtesan. We’ll never know for sure.
“After our parents died at sea, Rafael was the one who made it into the prosperous resort it is today. Because of his genius, our family now owns half a dozen small castles and palaces in various parts of the country which have been converted into tourist resorts we call pousadas.”
To the average onlooker, the D’Afonso family would seem to be living a fairy-tale existence. But like all human beings, they had their own share of private tragedies to deal with.
“Did you ever ask your brother if you could manage one of them?” Mallory couldn’t help asking.
“No. I’ve always wanted to do my own thing.”
“We’re kindred spirits, Lianor.”
“I know. That’s what’s got Rafael worried.”
“Now you’re making me nervous.”
“Please don’t be. I’ll have you know he has made arrangements for you to stay in the best suite. Just last week it was occupied by the President of Mexico and his wife.”
Mallory shook her head. “I don’t want or need special treatment.”
“Maybe not, but you’re going to get it. I know how hard you’ve worked since law school. It’s time for you to be pampered, so sit back and enjoy it.”
A chuckle escaped Mallory’s throat. “When you put it like that…”
“Thank you for not arguing with me. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
CHAPTER TWO
“INES?”
Rafael walked in the family’s private entrance at the north end of the palacio. He headed for the kitchen, grim-faced.
“I’m here. How is Maria tonight?” she called back to him as he pushed open the double doors.
“She’s deteriorating fast.”
Ines’ eyes watered. “Apolonia is missing her already.”
“Where is she?”
“She and Violente went into the other part of the palacio to look for some postcards while they waited for Violente’s father to pick her up in reception. I told Apolonia she had to be back in a half hour.”
He took a steadying breath. “Now that school is out, I don’t like the idea of adding to your burdens by asking you to take full-time care of her.” Ines was in her early seventies and slowing down. “Which one of the maids do you trust to watch her for a few hours each day to help you out?”
“Either Nina or Brianca.”
Rafael rubbed his jaw and felt the rasp. “Isn’t Brianca a little young?”
“She’s eighteen, but she’s very responsible and she likes Apolonia. It would be good for your daughter to have someone who will play with her.”
Ines was right about that.
“Will you talk to Brianca then?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“Good. Tell her I’ll make it worth her while financially until Lianor is prepared to take over.”
“She has agreed?” his housekeeper cried out with joy, putting her palms together beneath her chin.
“Not in so many words yet, but she will,” he vowed with such ferocity, Ines blinked. “Don’t say anything about Maria or Lianor yet. I don’t want her to know what’s happening until I’m forced to tell her Maria won’t be coming home again.”
“Claro,” the older woman said before turning away, sniffing.
He checked his watch. Lianor ought to be arriving with her guest anytime now. “I need to make some phone calls, then I’ll go find Apolonia. Thanks for all your help, Ines. Boa noite.”
“Boa noite, Rafael.”
The Palacio D’Afonso proved to be a masterpiece of baroque and Moorish architecture mixed together. Mallory heard Lianor call to her, but she was too busy drinking in everything to talk.
Checkered marble paved the floor and ornate staircase of the enormous entrance hall. She lifted her head to take in the beauty of its lofty dome exquisitely painted with flowers and birds. Between the rich decorative art and paintings on the walls, she stood there spellbound.
“Wander around to your heart’s content,” Lianor said. “Your suitcase has been taken upstairs. Give me a minute to make certain your room is ready. I’ll be right back.”
“This palace is so magnificent, I’m speechless,” Mallory murmured. “You don’t have to hurry on my account,” she added with a smile. “I might just stay here indefinitely.”
“Wait till you see where you’re going to sleep tonight.” Lianor left her with that provocative thought before she started up the staircase where several elegantly dressed hotel guests were just descending.
The couple disappeared through one of four sets of tall double doors to the left of them. Mallory caught a glimpse of a sumptuous-looking dining room and sucked in her breath.
What a fantastic place to be raised! And paradise to have the Atlantic at your feet too?
Still mesmerized by such splendor, she didn’t realize anyone else had entered the massive foyer until she heard a girl’s voice cry, “Tia Lianor!”
Mallory turned around to discover two dark-haired girls around ten or eleven who’d come through double doors on the opposite side of the great hall. Behind them she saw a room with a counter and several people working. For a front desk, it had been cleverly hidden.
The girl who was staring at Mallory with brown eyes identical to Lianor’s made a funny sound and put a hand to her mouth. The other girl holding something in her hand started to giggle.
“Are you Apolonia?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Do you speak English?” Mallory asked, drawing closer to them.
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard lovely things about you from your Tia Lianor.”
That brought a smile to the girl’s face.
“She’ll be down in a minute. My name is Mallory Ellis.” She extended her hand.
“How do you do,” Apolonia said in very proper English and shook it. Some flicker of recognition caused her features to become even more expressive. “You are her friend from California in America.”
Friend. That was nice to hear.
“Yes. I’ve come to visit her for a couple of days. When you saw me from the back, you thought I was your aunt, didn’t you?” Both Mallory and Lianor happened to be wearing black pantsuits.
She nodded.
“Other people have said the same thing. Who’s your friend?”
“Oh—” she cried, as if suddenly remembering her manners. “This is my best friend, Violente Camoes. We’re waiting for her father.”
Mallory grasped the other girl’s hand that wasn’t full of postcards. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Violente. I love your name.”
“She does not like it,” Apolonia confided. “Her brother says she was named after Queen Maria the First of Portugal. The servants called her Violente because she was insano.”
“Insane?”
“Yes.”
Trying to smother her laughter, Mallory said, “What’s your brother’s name, Violente?”
“Tomas.”
“Ah—that explains it!”
“What do you mean?” Apolonia asked while both girls stared at her wide-eyed.
“Her brother is just jealous because he wasn’t named after a king.”
Apolonia turned to her friend and translated in Portuguese. Her friend’s mouth broke into a wide smile. She whispered something back in Portuguese to Apolonia.
Mallory couldn’t help but marvel at her grasp of English. Not only had she benefited from the English-speaking tourists who stayed here, according to Lianor her niece went to the same private school she’d once attended. It was run by the nuns. No wonder their family was so well educated.
“Violente thinks you’re very nice. I do too.”
“Well thank you. I feel the same way about both of you.”
“My father said you are notarus.”
Mallory blinked. “Do you mean notorious?”
“Yes. I don’t know that word.”
She choked down more laughter. Wait till she told Lianor. “I think he got it mixed up with the word industrious. It means I like to work and use my brain.” She tapped the side of her head so the girls would understand.
“But he frowned like this when he said it,” she informed her before doing a great imitation of one.
“Violente?”
At the sound of a male voice, all three of them turned in time to see a well-dressed man around forty enter the foyer. He signaled for his daughter to come. She waved goodbye to them, then ran toward him.
No sooner had they left the foyer than Lianor appeared on the stairs. Apolonia rushed toward her aunt and started talking in rapid Portuguese.
“Why don’t you speak English in front of our guest. It will be good practice for you.”
“She already has. Very beautifully I might add,” Mallory said after catching up with them. “In fact I found out something quite interesting.”
Quickly she related her exchange with Apolonia. Lianor fought not to laugh in front of her niece. “Your father’s English is excellent, Apolonia, but sometimes even he makes mistakes.”
Mallory’s gaze rested on the girl. “I can’t imagine being able to speak fluent Portuguese when I was your age. You have superior intelligence just like your aunt.”
Her sweet face lit up. “Thank you.”
“Come with us,” Lianor urged. “We’ll show you to your room.”
Mallory followed them to the second floor. The staircase curved around, giving out on a corridor that ran the length of the palace. In between paintings and tapestries, she glimpsed double doors to the various rooms.
They passed another exquisitely shaped marble staircase before reaching a pair of double doors facing them at the south end. They looked massive and impregnable.
Behind them was another set of doors. Above those she saw an inscription set in the colorful azulejo tiles for which Portugal was famous.
“What does it say?”
“Our lips easily meet high across the narrow street. It’s a saying of the poet Frederico de Brito who wrote about the Alfama district of Lisbon where the streets between the houses are only four feet wide. The people on opposite sides can reach out of their homes and touch each other.”
Lianor rolled her eyes. “Someone in the D’Afonso family who had romantic notions put it there. Most likely it was a man who wanted to remind his wife of her marital duty,” she muttered sotto voce.
“No doubt,” Mallory concurred with a grin. She looked down at Apolonia who couldn’t quite follow their whole conversation. Wanting to include her she said, “Why are there two sets of double doors?”
“This is where the king stayed. He kept soldiers by both doors.”
“If we’re talking about Pedro II, I can see why,” Mallory murmured. “The man must have had some serious enemies.”
Lianor’s eyes met hers and they both chuckled. But Mallory’s laughter ceased the moment she stepped inside the suite and got her first look at the royal apartment which was really a small palace within a palace.
The melange of Muslim, Arabic, Visigoth and Moorish accoutrements filling the huge rooms defied description.
Both D’Afonsos took her on the grand tour which included a living room with a priceless Moorish tile floor put down in bands of blue and white that undulated like the rolling waves across an ocean. Dark crisscrossed beams defined the painted ceiling of flowers and angels.
There was a library worth a king’s ransom, a delightful airy music room with an antique piano, a sitting room, another bedroom, a kitchen and dining room which faced west and opened on to a private balcony that overlooked the ocean.
Lianor had to drag Mallory away from the view in order to show her the superb bedroom with its giant canopied bed and private balcony. It gave out on an unparalleled vista of the beach and ocean to the southwest. The constant crash of waves upon the sand far below set the rhythm of her heart. She felt enchanted.
Throwing back her head, she stood there breathing in the sea air while her long hair swished around her in the night breeze.
“Do you like it?” Apolonia asked.
Almost too enthralled to speak, she finally answered the girl’s question.
“I love it so much, I think I shall sleep out here tonight in that lounger next to the table and dream.”
“What will you dream about?
“Portuguese navigators who bravely set sail across the ocean to explore new worlds.”
Apolonia looked delighted with that answer. “I love the ocean too.”
“Living here, how could you not?”
“Do you like to swim?”
“It’s my favorite sport.”
“Mine too. My father taught me.”
“Speaking of your father,” Lianor broke in, “I bet he’s looking for you.”
She shook her head. “He went to see Maria in the hospital. I hope he says she can come home tomorrow.”
A signal of distress passed from Lianor to Mallory.
“I’m sure he’s back by now so you can ask him. It’s getting late and I think everyone’s tired, especially Mallory. She’s flown all the way from New York.”
She put her arm around her niece’s shoulders. “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”
The three of them walked to the first set of doors. Lianor turned to Mallory. “What time do you want breakfast served in here?”
Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to tell her not to go to the trouble she said, “How about ten o’clock after my morning swim? But only if you and Apolonia join me.”
“We’ll be here.”
Apolonia looked up at her. “Do you like salsicha?”
“It’s Portuguese sausage,” Lianor supplied.
“Is that your favorite?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll definitely try it. Good night, Apolonia.” They hugged again. What a wonderful girl she was. If Mallory had a daughter, she’d want her to be exactly like Lianor’s niece.
“Good night.”
“See you tomorrow,” Lianor whispered.
Mallory nodded. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
She closed the doors after them. When she turned around, she felt like she’d been magically transported back in time. Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Moors had occupied this land. It was from these shores Vasco de Gama had set out on his voyage. Shivers of excitement raced through her body.
After she’d prepared for bed and left a voice message on her parents’ phone to let them know she’d arrived safely, she walked out on the balcony with a pillow and blanket.
Mallory hadn’t intended to sleep out there all night. But when she heard the sound of gulls and opened her eyes, light filled the sky and was burning off the morning mist. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.
She went inside and made hot chocolate, then took the colorful ceramic mug and walked back to the balcony where she watched the ocean for at least an hour. Every now and again she saw a ship in the far distance.
From her vantage point, the swells looked mild this morning. There were two curls of waves that broke some distance from the shore.
A few guests were already swimming, but they stayed close in. Several palace employees were arranging loungers, towels and umbrellas. The sandy beach was starting to show signs of life as more guests appeared. Mallory could hardly wait to get out there herself. She had time. Breakfast wouldn’t be for another forty-five minutes.