“You’ve barely touched your breakfast, Mom. Everything okay?”
I look up from my plate, suddenly aware of Esme watching me carefully. “Everything’s fine. Just thinking about the party tonight.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Just the party? Or does this have something to do with Mr. Sato? Someone you used to know but never once told me about.”
“It was a long time ago, way before I met your father.” I wish my cheeks didn’t feel as warm as they do right now, a clear sign that I’m blushing and hiding the specifics from her.
“I looked him up, by the way.”
This time, it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “You did?”
“He’s CFO of Drexel Investments, which is one of the top hedge funds in the country. He must be incredibly talented to hold such a position,” she begins, slathering butter on her toast. “Explains the security detail that follows him wherever he goes, although they’re really good at blending in.”
“He always did have a sharp mind. Even back then, he was determined to make something of himself,” I say. “I remember one summer, when he was barely sixteen, he proposed a more efficient irrigation system for the orchards. His father, the foreman, was skeptical, at first, but Hiro had mapped it all out—diagrams, calculations, everything. Turned out, his idea not only saved water but doubled our yield that year.”
Esme leans forward, her toast forgotten. “So why didn’t you ever tell me about him, Mom? It sounds like he was a pretty significant part of your life.”
“He was...but we had different dreams.” More like my parents had different dreams than Hiro and I did. “I heard he enlisted in the Army while I went to Europe for my studies and met your dad. Unfortunately, Mr. Sato and I simply lost touch.”
“And now he’s back, right when we’re about to celebrate the centennial.” Esme grins. “It’s fate.”
I shrug, doing my best to look noncommittal. “I guess so.”
Esme takes a bite of her toast and sets it down on her plate. “You do know it’s okay for you to date again, right? It’s been three years since Dad died, and I’d like you to be happy.”
I reach for her hand from across the table. “But I am happy.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She squeezes my hand. “I saw the way you two looked at each other yesterday. It wasn’t just him. It was you, too. It was all over your face.”
“Oh, hush. I was just too shocked, that’s all,” I scoff. “What’s wrong with two friends seeing each other again after twenty-five years? There doesn’t have to be a love connection in everything, you know.”
She chuckles. “If you really believe that, then why are you blushing?”
“Because you’re being silly.” I point to her plate, needing to change the subject. “Now, finish your breakfast. We’ve got a busy day today.”
Esme sighs, her expression turning serious. “I wish you’d stop burying yourself in work. For as long as I can remember, you lived and breathed El Ocaso, and that’s not a good balance.” She pauses, a smile slowly forming on her lips. “As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen you glow like you did when you were with him. It was as if seeing him again erased the years and worry off your face.”
I gasp, feigning shock. “Are you saying my age-defying treatments haven’t been doing their job?”
Esme rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Avoid the truth all you want, but you know I’m right.” She exhales. “Look, Mom, you’ve worked so hard organizing the centennial celebration, and you need a break. Go ride Soleil or something.” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Who knows? Mr. Sato might join you.”
* * *
After breakfast, I change into my riding gear and head to the stables where the grooms have my favorite horse, Soleil, saddled and ready. The rescued wild mare greets me with a soft nicker, and I can’t help but smile as I stroke her glossy mane. Esme was right. This is just what I need right now—time to be by myself and think.
As Soleil and I ride through the orange groves, my thoughts drift to Hiro. His return, the painting, the centennial celebration tonight—it all feels like a whirlwind. But beneath the surface of my professional composure, there’s an undercurrent of excitement, of hope.
Why did he come back?
Suddenly, the sound of another horse approaching cuts into my thoughts. I turn, and my heart skips a beat. Hiro, his white shirt a sharp contrast to his tanned skin, rides up beside me.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.
I laugh. “I could say the same to you. What brings you out here?”
“I ran into Esme, who suggested a ride among the orange groves would be a great way to reacquaint myself with El Ocaso.”
I groan. Leave it to my daughter to play matchmaker. “Did she happen to mention that I was doing the same thing, too?”
“Actually, she didn’t,” he says, pausing. “But, if you prefer to be alone–”
“Oh no, please. I’d love some company.”
The rhythmic sound of our horses’ hooves on the soft earth sets a peaceful cadence as we ride along a path that meanders through the more secluded parts of the resort. To our right, the lush green of the orange groves stretches out, a vivid contrast against the clear blue sky. Every so often, a gentle breeze stirs the leaves, causing dappled sunlight to dance across our path. Everything feels more vibrant as I ride next to Hiro. Every sight, every sound, every scent.
Every beat of my heart.
In the distance, the faint sounds of the resort’s daily life drift toward us. The low hum of machinery, the splash of guests enjoying the pool, the gentle hum of staff attending to their tasks. But here, along the private trail, it’s just us, the stilness between us reminding me that sometimes, we can say more in silence than we ever can with words.
Suddenly, Hiro reins in his horse, his gaze fixed on the cabin in the distance. “No way,” he says, his voice choked with emotion as he leads us toward the head foreman’s cabin, now a small museum dedicated to the history of the resort and the workers who helped shape its legacy.
As Hiro dismounts and stands in front of the cabin, a wave of nostalgia and sorrow washes over him. “I can’t believe it’s still here,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. The cabin—once a home to his grandparents and later, where he and his father lived—brings back a flood of memories.
Years ago, Hiro’s grandparents were forced to leave their farm behind when they were incarcerated in a Japanese-American internment camp in Poston, Arizona. The pain of losing their land, their way of life, and the subsequent struggle of starting anew is something Hiro’s family rarely spoke of, yet it lingers like a shadow over their past.
“Would you like to go inside and check it out?” I ask as Hiro looks through the windows. “It usually opens around midmorning but I can have someone bring the key.”
“Maybe another time,” Hiro replies as he returns to his horse. “I still remember when you used to throw pebbles at my window.”
I chuckle. Of course, I remember. “I was bored a lot.”
“No matter how tired I was helping Dad that day, I always hoped you’d come by,” he says as he mounts his horse. “I was always glad to know you were bored in the big house.”
I chuckle. Bored was an understatement. I was in love, smitten with the young man I’d known since we were kids. But it was a foolish kind of love, my mother insisted then.
They call it puppy love, mija. It’s temporary.
But what I’m feeling right now is far from puppy love. It’s not exactly young love, either, but somehow, it’s bringing me back there, making me feel like that lovestruck teenager who hoped to catch a glimpse of her handsome Prince Charming laboring in the fields every time she rode her horse around El Ocaso.
“Your boredom was always my escape,” Hiro continues. “A good one.”
We continue our journey down the trail, taking a detour through the orange groves. As Hiro leads the way, my heart starts to race.
I know where he’s going.
He stops in front of a gnarled tree and dismounts. I follow suit, my gaze intent on the broad expanse of his shoulders, the familiar way he moves with a grace that seems innate, a part of him as much as his own breath.
As Hiro approaches the tree, I understand exactly what he’s searching for. I’ve visited this spot countless times on my own, hoping the past would still linger here. And it does, the initials we carved so long ago still etched into the bark, a testament to the future we once dreamed of.
“Thought it might have faded by now,” he says. “But there it is, stubborn as ever.”
“Like someone I know.” I reach out to carve the initials with my fingers.
L + H.
He steps closer until I can feel the warmth of his body just inches behind me as he covers my hand with his. “Funny,” he murmurs, our fingers tracing the initials together. “Just like someone I know, too.”
My breath hitches at the heat of his hand against my skin, the years seeming to fall away, leaving us bare and exposed. All the might-have-beens, the days and nights spent wondering, yearning, until the time came when I had to face the truth that he was never coming back to me.
Yet he’s here now.
But for how long?
“The day you left, I snuck out to your cabin, determined to convince you that we needed to elope that evening, but you and your father were already gone,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “Later, I found out from the other workers that my parents fired your dad and evicted you the very same day.”
When Hiro doesn’t say anything, I continue, “I tried to find you but my parents put me on the next plane to Switzerland. Said they were doing what was best for me.”
I turn to look at him, his face so close to mine, the scent of his cologne leaving me weak. “For years, I blamed myself for what–” I continue, but Hiro squeezes my hand.
“It wasn’t your fault, Lucia,” he murmurs. “It was complicated, but in a way, it worked out for the best…for all of us. You went on to meet your husband and had Esme.”
“But your dad lost his job–”
“And he found another one that eventually led him to start his own business,” he says. “As for me, I joined the Army and went to college on the GI Bill. It set me on a path which led me to where I am today, in finance, of all things.”
I frown. “Have you ever wondered…what if?”
“In the beginning,” he replies, his eyes searching mine. “But we can’t change the past. Besides, we’re here now, and that’s what matters. Who knows what will happen next?”
His words trail off, his gaze intensifying as it falls to my lips. In that moment, the world seems to shrink until only the two of us remain. My breath catches as he leans in, the anticipation almost palpable. But just as our lips are about to meet, he pauses, leaving the space between us charged with tension.
A heartbeat too long.
“We unveil the painting tonight,” I whisper as he pulls away, a shadow of regret crossing his features.
“That we will,” he replies softly.
“And then you’ll go back to your life,” I continue, needing something to fill the coming silence if I don’t say anything. “And I’ll return to mine, right here at El Ocaso.”
“Is that what you want?”
My throat tightens. “It’s all I know.”
Behind us, the horses whinny softly, as if urging us back to the reality of our separate lives.
“I suppose we should return before your daughter sends out a search party,” Hiro says as he glances at the sun’s position in the sky through the trees.
I nod, reluctant to break the spell of this moment but knowing we can’t stay here forever. “She probably needs help with the celebration.”
We mount our horses and ride back through the groves in silence. There’s no need for words, not when we’ve just revisited a part of our past, a fleeting escape from the present.
Now, it’s time to return to reality—a world filled with responsibilities and expectations.
A world that expects me to stay.