When I decided to deliver the painting in person, I didn’t know what to expect. The logical part of me insisted I was merely returning a piece of history to its rightful place, but deep down, I knew it was more than that.
It was about seeing Lucia again.
Still, I didn’t expect anything other than a pleasant hello-hi-nice-to-see-you-again reunion. Instead, Lucia took my breath away, bringing me back twenty-five years in the past and making me feel like a young man again.
Her hair, once a wild cascade of dark locks that danced in the wind as we raced through the orange groves, now falls in elegant waves over her shoulders, the sunlight catching hints of auburn and gray that highlight her dusky skin. Her smile sets my world alight just like it did back then. And then there are her eyes, dark pools of mystery I longed to plumb the depths of. Once, I thought I’d have forever to do just that.
For a moment, I forget why I’m here. The painting, the centennial celebration, everything fades into the background as I take in the sight of her. It’s as if time has stood still, and I’m once again the young man who fell hopelessly in love with her all those years ago.
But then reality sets in and I remind myself to hold it all together. I’m here to deliver the painting and nothing more. Okay, another lie. I’m here until after the centennial celebration when I get back on my plane and return home. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“It’s sure been a while, hasn’t it?” Lucia says. “I assume you and your business partner own a company together?”
I nod. “It’s his, really, and I’m the CFO. Hedge funds.”
“Ah, explains the chief of security,” she says, smiling as I feel my cheeks heating up. Did I really have to add that I travel with a damn entourage?
“I would never have pegged you as a numbers man,” she says, her expression thoughtful. “I heard you enlisted in the Army.”
“I did. Then I studied business after I got out and realized I loved numbers… well, investing, mainly, and headed to Wall Street.” I could tell her more, like how I started working for a small firm and then moved on to a bigger one before joining Drexel Management years later, just before my business partner bet against the U.S. housing market in 2008 and became an instant billionaire.
I could tell her more, like the many twists and turns my life had taken since leaving El Ocaso. The Army had toughened me up, taught me discipline and leadership. My time at college opened doors I never imagined possible. The long nights on Wall Street, the risks taken, the failures overcome—all had shaped me into the man I am today. Yet, standing in the place where it all began, I feel a flutter in my chest as I gaze at Lucia, a reminder that some things never change.
“And you?” I ask, forcing myself back into the present. “You studied in Europe, yes?”
Lucia nods. “I studied hospitality management at École Hôtelière de Lausanne.”
“Ah, EHL,” I say, grinning. “I’ve heard great things about that school. They focus on heritage preservation.”
She shrugs. “Just what my parents wanted me to learn so I could take over the resort since my brothers weren’t interested in managing the family business.”
“They’re still not interested after all these years?”
She shakes her head. “Gavin’s got a successful medical practice in Laguna Beach, and Randall still works for an NGO, this time in Peru,” she says. “We have cousins who work alongside us, whether it’s running the orange groves or taking care of distribution, but as far as a Galtero working at El Ocaso Resort, it’s just me and Esme.”
“You’re doing a great job,” I say. “The resort looks amazing. I’ve seen it rank among one of the best resorts in the country.”
“Thank you,” she says, blushing. “Esme attended EHL, too, and right now, she’s learning the ropes.”
“She’s doing a fantastic job.”
Lucia smiles. “Thank you.”
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry to hear about your husband,” I say, meeting Lucia’s gaze.
She looks up, caught off guard.
Although I never reached out after my father and I were forced out of El Ocaso, Dad’s friends kept him updated on Lucia, including her marriage a year later to Eric Cutler, a fellow EHL student who co-managed the resort until his sudden passing three years ago. Despite knowing, I didn’t feel it was the right moment to reconnect. We had both moved forward with our lives.
“Thank you,” she says before glancing at the painting. “You have no idea what this means to me, Hiro… to my family. To think that after all these years, my great-great-great uncle’s work would find its way back to El Ocaso…”
“It’s where it belongs.”
After a few minutes of silence, both of us studying the painting in its new home, Lucia straightens and checks her watch. “I’ve got some time before I have to be at a meeting, so I can give you a quick tour of the resort, if you’d like.”
“I’d love that,” I say, following her down the corridor where the adobe walls of the main building still stand strong. The last time I walked these halls, I was a different man—full of dreams and uncertainties, and madly in love with my boss’s daughter. Now, she’s the one in charge.
As Lucia leads me from the main entrance into the heart of the resort, I’m immediately enveloped in a wave of nostalgia mixed with curiosity. The lobby, grand and welcoming, strikes a perfect balance between the rustic elegance of its rancho roots and modern luxury. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, a familiar sight that brings back memories of playing hide-and-seek among the shadows.
Lucia gestures to the walls adorned with historical photographs and artwork. “We wanted to celebrate the resort’s history,” she explains, pointing out a photograph of the original rancho that I recognize, a piece of the past preserved in black and white. Beside it hangs a painting of the sprawling landscape, vibrant and alive, showcasing the rancho’s transition from a cattle ranch to vineyard and finally orange groves. The artistry captures the essence of El Ocaso, bridging the gap between then and now.
“As you should, Lucia,” I murmur. “El Ocaso is part of Orange County history.”
As we move through the lobby, my eyes are drawn to a collection of tools artfully displayed. Saddles, spurs, and branding irons, once utilitarian objects, are now elevated to artifacts, telling the silent stories of the land and those who worked it. The lobby also features a new addition—a fountain crafted from a distinctive local stone not unlike the adobe that forms the walls. Water cascades gently along its polished curves, transforming it into a majestic centerpiece.
Lucia leads me outside, where the updated pool area awaits. It’s a striking contrast to the modest swimming hole of my childhood. The pool is expansive, its edges curving gracefully, mirroring the natural contours of the land. A swim-up bar offers a modern touch.
The surrounding gardens, meticulously landscaped, are dotted with native plants and flowers, their fragrances mingling with the citrus tang from the nearby groves.
“This used to be just an open field,” I remark, memories of running through tall grass, the horizon stretching out endless and wide, flashing through my mind.
Lucia nods, her expression a mix of pride and reflection. “It’s changed, but we’ve worked hard to ensure that every update honors the resort’s spirit and history.” She pauses, chuckling. “My degree at work.”
“I think it’s more than that,” I murmur. “It’s your passion and love for this place, Lucia. It shows in every corner.”
As a blush creeps on her cheeks, she glances away momentarily. “Thank you, Hiro. I’m glad to know I’m doing the right thing.”
“Because you are.”
She sighs. “I just hope Esme continues the legacy of our family when I’m no longer able to do so. Or my brothers, whichever of them wishes to take over one day.”
“And if they do, what would you do then?”
“I’ll still be around, helping out in some capacity or other, although it would be nice to do something different.”
“Like what?”
Lucia thinks for a moment. “It would be nice to see the world without having to hurry back home, for one. Just take my time. Enjoy a cup of coffee at a Paris cafe or meander among the stalls at Christkindlesmarkt.”
“Nuremberg,” I say as she nods. “I hope you get to do all that and more one day soon, Lucia. You deserve it.”
We continue our walk, the comfortable silence between us filled with the gentle hum of the resort’s ambiance. The sun-dappled path winds lazily through the lush gardens, the air perfumed with the heady scent of blooming jasmine, and the distant laughter of guests enjoying the amenities.
As we approach the shimmering expanse of the pool, Lucia slows to a stop and turns to face me. The afternoon light catches in her hair, setting the dark strands aglow and casting her features in a soft, golden radiance. My breath snags in my throat at the sight, at the sudden, visceral awareness of her proximity.
“Unfortunately, this is where I have to leave you,” she says, her voice tinged with regret. “But I do hope you’ll enjoy the centennial celebration tomorrow. It promises to be an unforgettable evening.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I assure her, my gaze drinking in the way the corners of her mouth curve upwards, the tiny crinkles that form at the edges of her eyes when she smiles. “Being here, seeing all that you’ve accomplished with El Ocaso...”
I pause, the words I long to say lodged in my throat. That it was the chance to see her again, to bask in her presence and hear her voice, that drew me back like a moth to a flame. But there’s something else. Every step I’ve taken, every success I’ve achieved, has been with the goal of becoming a man worthy of this moment, returning to the place that rejected him and his father so many years ago.
But I swallow back the confession, too raw, too real for this fragile, fledgling reconnection. It also belongs in the past. “Finding the painting when I did, being able to return it to its rightful home... it was fate,” I say instead. “Like coming full circle.”
“Full circle. I like that,” Lucia murmurs as her phone suddenly beeps. “That would be my meeting,” she says, holding out her hand, a broad smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her professional face. “It was very nice to see you again, Hiro. I hope you’ll enjoy your time at El Ocaso. I’ve arranged to have you stay at the grand suite.”
I shake her hand. “It was wonderful to see you, too, Lucia. Thank you for the tour, and for…everything.”
“You’re welcome. If you ever need anything, just call the front desk.”
As she turns to leave, a part of me wants to call out, to say everything that’s been left unsaid—the way my heart is racing, the memories flooding back, the unresolved feelings that have lain buried for so long. But I hold back, reminding myself of the professional boundaries I need to maintain.
I cast one last look at her retreating figure before making my way to the lobby. This visit was supposed to be simple—a donation, a gesture of goodwill. But being here, being near her, has complicated everything. It’s awakened a desire I thought I had long since moved past.
This time, I want more than just a few moments with Lucia.
I want another chance at forever.