The Sometime Sister by Katherine Nichols (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

I had planned on rewriting a radio spot for a client, but he didn’t need it until next week. Anything else could wait. I agreed to go to his hotel room at noon. I was uneasy about the coming-alone clause but remembered him as a gentle, nonthreatening man. Regardless, Justin was away on business, and Lesroy was tied up in meetings all day. There was no way I would take my mother. So alone was it.

“Scarlett, what do you think Señor Luis Cordoza’s important information is?”

The dog regarded me intently before turning away to lick herself. I took the hint and got ready without asking for any more canine opinions.

Unsure of morning traffic, I left early and reached the hotel with thirty minutes to spare. A smiling young man wearing a long-sleeved shirt and vest in the now-sweltering heat parked my car. I carouseled into the reception area through revolving doors, where a burst of frigid air hit me.

With time on my hands, I strolled to the restroom and stood at the mirror. I didn’t look all that different from the woman in my engagement picture. No one had coaxed my hair into unnatural curls, but it was the same light brown. My cheekbones were as hollow, but it was from grief instead of my starvation-wedding diet. My eyes were still the same silvery gray as Gran’s, but they were tinted with a shadow of sorrow. Regardless of the similarities, I wasn’t the same person. In the photo, I was someone’s sister. Now I wasn’t.

On the elevator ride to Luis’s floor, I tried to recall my last conversation with him. It was when he told me Ben had Stella’s body cremated.

I recognized him as soon as he opened the door. His hair was shorter, and he wasn’t wearing his wire-rimmed glasses, but his large dark eyes held the same kind expression.

“Señorita Burnette, welcome.” I stepped onto plush, cream-colored carpet. Spotless sliding glass doors revealed a balcony where the city sprawled below like a canvas painted especially for the inhabitants of this room. The bedroom door was closed, but I noticed the door to the adjoining suite was ajar.

“Wow.”

“I agree, wow. Normally, my accommodations are not so lavish. But my government hopes to impress some of your local businessmen and lure them to our country. Enough about business. Please, have a seat.”

A tray with tea, coffee, and tiny little sandwiches sat on the table in front of the sofa. Luis told me to help myself and took the chair across from me.

“Señorita Burnette,” he began.

“It’s Grace.”

“Grace, it is good to see you under less tragic circumstances. How are you and your family coping with your terrible loss?”

Some people shy away from questions about your state of mind after losing a loved one. They might ask how you’re doing, but it’s obvious they don’t want to hear you have trouble sleeping or your mother keeps losing weight or you have unexpected bouts of sobbing. They expect you to stick to the pleasantries and move the conversation along. Luis Cordoza wasn’t one of those people. When he asked, I could see that he cared about what I had to say.

I spent the next several minutes admitting it was hard and not getting easier and that Christmas was a nightmare.

“I wish I could make your loss less painful. But no one can do such a thing. When we love someone, we are always at risk for suffering. But perhaps what I have to share will ease your sadness.” He stopped to ask if I would like coffee or tea. I wanted neither but asked for tea. Tendrils of steam drifted from the cup as he poured.

“First, Grace. I must confess I was not forthcoming with you when you visited me in my office. I did not intend to mislead you, but I was not at liberty to reveal certain details to you. The situation has changed, and I can explain more about your sister during her stay in Ibarra with Eva.”

The situation had changed for me, but I wasn’t sure how it had for him.

“I also have the letters stolen from your room. Unfortunately, the laptop was damaged beyond repair.”

“Stella’s letters!” I had given up any hope of recovering my sister’s last communication with me.

“Yes. It was one of Adelmo’s men who took them for reasons you will soon understand. And I have a letter Stella was unable to send.” He waved his hand. “But I am getting ahead of myself. When you came to my office, I wanted to tell you what might await you in Montañita, but I had promised to remain silent. I was aware of your sister’s relationship with Adelmo and that he loved her too much to hurt her. But I also knew you would never take the word of a man you had only just met. And Adelmo had sworn me to secrecy.”

“Is he a friend of yours? Have you had any word from him since he disappeared?”

“He and I grew up together and were once as close as brothers although I was only the son of a servant in the Balsuto household. Sadly, I have heard nothing from him.”

“I thought his family ran some big crime ring in Ecuador.”

“You Americans want everything to fit into neat little packages. It is true Adelmo’s family committed many crimes, but they were also kind and generous to the people who worked for them. His father paid for my education and sent me to the same school as his son. Adelmo, however, didn’t care so much for formal education.” He smiled and shook his head. “He was more a student of life.”

I thought of the man sitting in the garden speaking of his love for Stella. Luis was right. I did want everything wrapped in neat little packages.

“He wanted to be an artist. His father would have none of that, and I had to watch my friend become less himself and more the person his family