Chapter One

 

 

Portugal. Home.

Filipe inhaled the scent of the ocean as he gazed into the dark-blue waters of the Atlantic. He dug his toes in the sand and his mind delved into the possibilities for his next project. The past four months away, volunteering in Angola drilling wells in remote villages, had been rewarding, but now he was ready for a different kind of challenge with the final stage of renovations of the hotel resort near the town of Peniche.

After a few minutes, he stood and carried his shoes in one hand. Once on the lawn, he brushed off the sand of and put on his socks and shoes, then cast another long look at the beach before turning to the building behind him. In the early morning, the crisp white façade of the five-story hotel lay in the shade. It would shine in the afternoon western light, and take on a golden hue as the sun set in the ocean.

The large swimming pool was empty at this hour and the parasols unopened. Even the blue lounge chairs, set in evenly spaced rows facing the pool, looked solitary without the guests that would soon come. To the right, the splash pool and children’s park, under the partial shade of native pine trees and imported palms, cast a bright note against the dewy lawn.

Across from the hotel and on the side of the small road, the nine-hole golf course looked pristine and ready to be played. It wasn’t the largest or the best in the country, but a serious contender against the others in the region. Filipe wasn’t too worried, though; guests mainly came for the surfing and the beach. Anything else was an afterthought, however well planned.

He liked what he saw. Much had been done in the four months since his last visit, and the progress was on target for the grand reopening in a few weeks in early June. Now he just had to make sure all the details were up to his standards and that everything else was ready.

The walk from the front door of the hotel to the beach took between five and eight minutes, depending on one’s speed and time of day. On the road that divided the front lawn and the flat banks preceding the sand, a wide crossing had been painted reflective white on the pavement to allow for the safe passage of pedestrians and golf carts. The cement path turned into smooth wooden slats that eventually disappeared into the soft sand.

He stood for a moment, watching the morning surf caress the shore in gentle waves. The air carried the crisp scent of sea and cold sand, and gulls above swooped down in noisy dives, looking for their breakfast. The beaches along the coast of Peniche were famed as some of the best in Portugal, at least where surfers were concerned. Tourists preferred the southern coastlines, with their clear waters and warm temperatures, but for surfing, the aficionados liked the wave variety, the flexible wind, and the overall rating of this beach. Since he’d be staying at the resort for a while, maybe he’d find the time for some early-morning surfing, weather permitting.

When the phone rang, Filipe reached in his pocket and pulled it out. After seeing the caller ID, he swiped at the screen. “I was just about to call you,” he said in place of a greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” Ross replied. “Did you arrive yet?”

“Just arrived in the past hour.” Filipe started walking back.

“How was the trip?”

“It was amazing. I’ll have to tell you all sometime,” Filipe replied. “I’m taking a walk outside, and everything looks great.”

“Was that you on the beach?” Ross asked.

Filipe stopped and raised his head to the hotel, squinting at the morning sun. “Where are you?”

“One of the suites at the top floor. The one where you’ll be staying, actually,” Ross said. “Do you want to get together for breakfast before the meeting with the managers?”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Filipe replied. “Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

After hanging up, Filipe approached the left side of the hotel, leading to the parking lot on the east. The guest spaces came first, followed by the staff area in the back. By the sidewalk, the newly painted handicapped slots close to the building awaited the signage, and at the far corner of the lot, five charging stations for electric cars stood equally spaced, an amenity that appealed to a lot of environment-conscious guests. In addition to these, the hotel boasted photovoltaic solar panels and a waste water reuse system, making the resort an icon of sustainability for its environmental protection and the use of renewable energies. Renovating an outdated hotel hadn’t been as easy as building a new one, but the project had turned out just as he’d envisioned, if not better, and the marketing team predicted a profit by the second year. If it was wrong to feel proud of another sound investment, then let him be in the wrong.

An hour later, after a continental breakfast with Ross and a quick tour of the ground floor, Filipe was ready to assume his ownership. They moved to the board room on the second floor, which overlooked the swimming pool, the lawn, and, past the golf course, a stretch of beach that was visible through the trees and vegetation.

One by one, the managers and supervisors filled in the seats around the oblong table, curiosity and speculation in their expressions. Filipe sat to one side, observing them, bringing to mind what he’d learned from Ross about each person.

Ross Turner was his unofficial front man. Filipe had met him at an event in Lisbon a few years back, and after several mutual recommendations, Filipe had hired him. Having a Canadian father and a Portuguese mother, and being equally raised between the two countries, Ross was the perfect diplomat who knew the language and the customs of the land. When Filipe needed anonymity in a project, he sent Ross to be his public figure until he was ready to declare his involvement. The strategy had proved profitable on more than one occasion, as evidenced by the current one.

Ross took the front. “We’ve called this meeting to announce my role shifting to general manager as the new president takes his position at the SoliMar Resort.”

A few eyes went wide, but no one said anything. Ross gestured to his right, and Filipe stood; then they switched positions.

“My name is Filipe Romano. As we get ready for the grand reopening, you’ll see me in a more active role around the resort for the next few weeks. We have several points to go through this morning, so let’s get started.”

After introductions, Filipe opened his tablet and brought up the map of the resort and the surrounding areas on the flat screen hanging on the wall behind him.

“What did the surfing school say to our proposal?” Filipe asked.

“They’re on board with cross promotion,” the marketing manager replied and pulled up a new image on the screen. “We have a package that discounts bookings with them, and they’re doing the same for us. Several bookings have already come in for the beginning of the surfing season.”

The bookings manager added her report, and Filipe nodded, pleased with the numbers she presented.

“And the golf course?”

“The golf course is another amenity available to our guests and is also open to outside bookings, whenever the scheduling permits,” the activities supervisor replied.

Filipe kept a list in front of him and checked off each item, adding a word of praise or thanks with his comments as the manager responsible for each department presented their update.

Having Ross leading the project from the beginning meant the employees had more connections and loyalty to Ross than Filipe, but that was a risk Filipe didn’t mind taking since his schedule didn’t let him be in all the right places at the right times. Delegating effectively was a sign of good leadership, as he’d learned himself.

“That brings us to the aquarium,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “I noticed the outside walls and the building have received a coat of white paint to match the resort. What’s the latest update on the sale?”

The small aquarium had been purchased by the last hotel owner, who’d had plans to expand it. It included a man-made freshwater pond, and it sat on a piece of property closer to the main road. Although not part of the resort, it could have been easily integrated if not for the ridiculous bureaucracy that made keeping up its licensing too much work. Filipe’s financial advisers had urged him to sell to avoid future problems.

The sound of a voice clearing got Filipe’s attention, and he turned to see a man in his early forties.

“The aquarium’s director passed away six months ago,” he said. “Since then, we’ve had difficulties that have prevented us from going ahead with the sale.”

“And you are…,” Filipe asked.

“I’m António Morais, the operations assistant manager,” he replied. “The assistant director was unable to come.” He fidgeted in his seat.

Filipe navigated to the map of the aquarium’s interior. “How has this affected the guest visits?”

“We’ve been closed to guests for almost four months,” he said.

Filipe frowned. “How does that affect the bottom line?”

“The former director had funds allocated to keep it going for six months. We have two months left of those.”

“Funds allocated from where?” Filipe asked.

António Morais shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. You’ll have to ask the assistant director, Alice Vieira.”

It sounded like the aquarium might need a visit from him to find out what was really going on. Although included in the sale of the resort, it ran independently from the hotel, and it wouldn’t interfere with the plans for the reopening week. But pleasing aesthetics were imperative, and with it being so close geographically, Filipe didn’t want to leave anything to chance, especially when the financial situation wasn’t immediately clear.

He and Ross wrapped up the meeting and thanked everyone for coming.

“Are you going over to see the aquarium?” Ross asked after the last person left.

Filipe nodded. “I need to find out what’s happening there.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, I’ll handle it,” Filipe replied. “You stay here and manage, Mr. General Manager,” he added with a smirk.

Ross saluted him in reply. “Yes, sir.”

Before something else came up that required his attention, Filipe pocketed his phone and set out to visit the aquarium.

 

* * *

 

Celeste exited the staff entrance and closed the door to the aquarium behind her. The sun beat high, already too warm for a May morning. Summer would be another scorcher, for sure. Maybe on Sunday afternoon she could take Lucas to the park in town. Her five-year-old was too serious at times, and she enjoyed playing with him outside.

The phone rang in Celeste’s pocket, and she put down the bucket full of duck feed, then swiped at the screen.

Hugo. She groaned when she saw his name on the caller ID. Less and less, he had anything pleasant to say when he called. It couldn’t be good news if he was calling today, just a few hours before he was supposed to take Lucas.

“Hugo,” she answered, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Olá, Celeste. How are you?” His smooth voice came over the speaker.

She closed her eyes and pinched her nose. And to think she used to love the sound of him. She’d fallen for Hugo Ferreira so fast and had brushed aside all the warning signs. How could she have had such lack of common sense and not seen him for what he was? “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“You always do that.” His tone turned defensive. “Why do you always assume there’s something going on when I call?”

“Because you never call unless you have an excuse to avoid doing your responsibilities.” She’d learned that the hard way.

“Now you’re just attacking me for no reason,” he whined.

Celeste took a deep breath. “What can I do for you, Hugo?”

He sniffled. “Is Lucas around? I need to talk to him.”

“I’m still at work.” Where she usually was before lunchtime on weekdays, as he very well knew. “Lucas is at the daycare center. I can give him a message when I get home, or you can tell him yourself when you come to pick him up.” Lucas spent every other Friday night and Saturday with his dad. At least, he was supposed to as defined in the custody agreement.

“About that,” Hugo hedged. “My buddy Tony got tickets to watch The Kicks in a live concert in Lisbon. We’re leaving this afternoon and won’t be back until tomorrow night.” He paused as if waiting for Celeste, but she held back from making a comment. “I won’t be able to get Lucas this weekend. Will you tell him that?”

No, she didn’t want to tell her little boy that his father had found something else to do on the weekend they were supposed to spend together. “I think it’s best you call back at six and talk to him yourself. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, and he misses you.”

“I’ve been busy, Celeste. He knows that.” He let out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll try to remember to call later.”

Which meant he’d probably forget and she’d be the one to pass the excuse to Lucas. “Can you stop on your way out of town and give me the child support check?” It was a desperate effort on her part, hoping she could get the money from Hugo before he spent it.

“Something came up. I’ll come by next week.”

He hung up before she had a chance to reply.

Typical Hugo. He had money for a trip to Lisbon to watch a popular band but not enough to support his son.

If regret could kill. But no, she couldn’t think that way. Despite all the pain Hugo had brought into her life, he’d also given her the best blessing, and she would never regret Lucas.

Celeste put the phone back into the apron pocket and retrieved the bucket, pushing the worry about Lucas’s disappointment to the back of her mind. She’d deal with it later.

A movement caught her eye. Across the bridge, on the other side of the pond, the same dark-haired man she’d seen earlier was still walking around, taking notes on his phone and pausing every now and then to tug at his beard as if deep in thought. She’d seen him talk to António Morais, the operations assistant manager, which meant the man wasn’t just a casual visitor poking his head in the closed aquarium. They did get curious people around from time to time, but they usually didn’t make it past the gate.

She reached a hand in the bucket and absently threw the feed over the water. Some of the ducks rushed to the area, and she counted the old ones, making sure they were present, noticing the older swan still lagged behind his mate. She should have brought her lunch to eat on the bridge. Without visitors, Fridays were slow days that left her with too much time to wonder about should-have-beens, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Her thoughts turned to the mysterious man. Could he be a potential buyer? Or was he the aquarium’s new owner already and nobody had told her?

Celeste wouldn’t be surprised if Alice, the assistant director, knew about it and hadn’t mentioned it, like last month when she’d forgotten to tell Celeste that Dr. Abarca was coming on Thursday instead of Tuesday. It hadn’t been accidental in the least, of course. Luckily, Joana, one of the assistant keepers, had mentioned it in passing, and Celeste had been able to adjust the schedule to accommodate the temporary change. Another time, Alice had put Celeste on the weekend schedule, despite Celeste’s request to the contrary. In the end, Heitor traded shifts with her, thank goodness.

Since the aquarium director’s death six months ago, Alice had been acting more belligerent toward Celeste. Without Senhor Xavier’s presence to act as a buffer between them, Alice continually let her true feelings come to the surface, making the work environment difficult for Celeste. Her coworkers commented on it, but what could she do? Did Alice want Celeste to quit? Alice’s motivations weren’t clear, a mix of jealousy and animosity that Celeste couldn’t comprehend. Some days were definitely a challenge, no matter how much Celeste loved working at the aquarium.

The radio clipped to her belt crackled. “All personnel to the workroom, please,” António said.

Celeste picked up the bucket, frowning. Personnel meetings always took place on Mondays. Why were they meeting so late in the week? With her curiosity piqued, Celeste hurried back to the building.

When she arrived, the other keepers were already there, as curious as she was.

“Did anyone see Alice today?” she asked.

They shook their heads. Nobody had seen her, which meant she had probably not come in. She’d done the same thing last Friday. It was true the aquarium didn’t need as much personnel as when they’d been open to the public. Before his death, Senhor Xavier had sold off some of their larger exhibits and had reduced the personnel as a consequence, which had helped stretch their reduced budget. But the assistant director should still be present during the week—whether or not they had visitors.

Celeste tried to hide her annoyance at Alice’s absence. As the head keeper, Celeste felt responsible for setting a good rapport with the other workers, and voicing her displeasure toward the assistant director didn’t set the kind of example she wanted to have at the workplace.

The door swung open, and António entered the room, followed by the man she’d seen earlier. Behind the full beard, she couldn’t tell the guy’s expression too well. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt that showed his defined biceps without too much effort. From his tanned skin, it appeared that he either worked out in a gym and spray tanned or maybe did some kind of manual labor outdoors. Either way, he was more attractive up close than from the glance she’d had of him earlier.

His brown eyes scanned the room slowly, and his mouth twitched. Maybe that was a smile? Hard to tell, with all that facial hair. When he caught her watching him, Celeste looked away, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. After Hugo, she was done with men.

“Is this it today?” António asked, not really needing a reply. He turned to the man and gestured to the personnel. “Looks like this is everyone today. We have one head keeper and four assistant keepers.” He made quick introductions, and the guy nodded at each one of them, including her. “The assistant director is not available. Her name is Alice Vieira. I’m the operations assistant manager, as you know. The veterinarian, Dr. Abarca, comes on Tuesdays unless there’s a problem. Everyone, this is Filipe Romano, the SoliMar’s owner.”

Celeste’s breath caught, and her heart stopped for a beat. No, it couldn’t be him. But how many Filipe Romanos could there be?

The last time she’d seen Filipe Romano he was nineteen, and he had certainly not looked like this man in front of her. This version was all grown up and mature, and she’d just been thinking of how attractive he was. Her face flushed, and her body went rigid. But it was him, now that she took a better look. The same nose and brow, same gorgeous, healthy hair. He’d always had such great hair. How had she not recognized him?

She became vaguely aware of everyone around her talking as he asked questions. And she was next. He was coming over to talk to her, and he had obviously not recognized her, unaware they knew each other.

“Excuse me,” Celeste blurted, turning down the hallway. “I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder.

“Celeste, are you okay?” António asked.

She didn’t stop to reply. When she arrived at the small bathroom, she locked the door with shaking fingers, then turned on the faucet and let the cold water run over the back of her hands as she tried to wrap her brain around seeing Filipe again.

All these years, she’d worked so hard at keeping the memories buried of what had happened that fated night. Everything had changed after that—her family had changed, she’d changed, her life had never been the same. So much pain and heartache.

What was Filipe Romano doing in Peniche? How was he the resort’s owner? He could very well be. She didn’t know anything about him anymore—what he did, how he earned his living. Twelve years was long enough for a man to come into his own with any kind of career—as he apparently had, being the new owner of a beach resort in one of the most popular areas in the country.

Celeste splashed her face with water, then turned off the faucet. She reached for a paper towel and patted her skin dry, inhaling deeply a couple of times, trying to slow down her rapid heart and uneven breathing. Her reflection caught her eye, and she grimaced—the unmade face, the hair falling out of the ponytail, the dirty apron over a worn T-shirt. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to worry about making an impression, least of all on Filipe.

They were probably waiting for her return to talk about the aquarium or whatever he was here for. It would be expected of her as the head keeper to join the discussion.

Why couldn’t she leave and keep pretending she’d never known Filipe Romano?

She walked back slowly, taking her time, putting off the inevitable for as long as she could. Back in the work room, Filipe stood at the front talking to her coworkers. She leaned against the wall, not knowing what to do or say. Her world had just flipped upside down and she was still trying to regain her footing. He glanced at her and frowned slightly, then returned his attention to the conversation.

A few minutes later, he wrapped up, and António called her over. “Celeste, I thought you could give Senhor Romano a tour of the tanks and grounds.”

“Call me Filipe,” he said.

The two men looked at her, and she averted her eyes from Filipe, not ready to deal with his scrutiny of her. Had he recognized her at all?

“Sure,” she replied. “Just follow me.”

Behind her, Filipe said something to António. She didn’t wait but turned out the door, anxious to be outside in the open, away from his presence so near her. All she needed was a good dose of fresh air and warm sun. And lots of distance between them. Then she’d be able to breathe and think and act normal again.

She could do this. She could give him a tour like the professional she was and go on with her life like he meant nothing to her. Because he didn’t. He hadn’t in a long time.

By the time he caught up, her breathing had slowed down, and her heart rate had regulated.

“Ready?” she asked in a bright voice. Maybe a little too bright.

“Celeste,” he said in reply. “It’s you, isn’t it?”