Cat stepped inside and entered another world…a world of ocean-blue shutters and sunshine-yellow walls, where the main floor of the house blended into one large, open room divided subtly into separate areas of a dining room, a living room, and a library. As she would expect from a mistress who was nobility, many of the furnishings were carved from glistening mahogany that bespoke old European elegance, yet the cushions on the couches and chairs echoed the bright island hues of coral and red and yellow.
And everywhere—from the high ceiling beams and the stair railings and the lamps—hung angels of all shapes and sizes. Dark-skinned Caribbean angels in island colors floated above the dining room table, tinkling as a wind chime, while larger angels fashioned from diaphanous fabrics drifted in the living room’s afternoon breeze. From the skylight, tendrils of philodendron and pothos dangled down behind plants in painted pots on the floor, and smaller angels were attached to their long strands like ornaments on a Christmas tree.
While these decorations added a whimsical yet spiritual element to the large room, Cat was immediately aware of moving into another woman’s domain. Did she dare ask about redecorating, once the house was hers?
“My angel collection,” Leilani explained as she opened her arms to them. “Valenzia agreed that this island—Porto Di Angelo means ‘angel haven,’ you see—was a place where such entities favor us with their charm and wisdom. The light and vibrations here are unlike any we’ve felt elsewhere.” The housekeeper grinned impishly at her. “The guardian who escorted you here seems to prefer the beach, where it doesn’t feel so…girlie.”
Cat laughed. “I met Spike right before I won the Powerball. He does seem…unique, considering my previous notions of how angels behave.”
“Crusty like old concrete on the outside, cream puff on the inside. He’s taking good care of you, dear.”
How could Leilani know these things? Her psychic sensitivities would take some getting used to—a subject that would not be discussed until the exotic caretaker decided it was time. A lot of things revolved around this woman, it seemed.
“At the risk of sounding like a skeptic,” Cat murmured, “would the angels allow the Contessa to come to harm? I’m still puzzled about—”
“Do not worry yourself over her fate, Catalina. I’m convinced our beloved Miss Borgia is alive and well! She is a free spirit, a childlike fairy with a flair for living well.” Leilani gazed at the winged figures floating on their invisible strings and lifted her hands to them again. “This isn’t the first lovely home Valenzia graced with her presence and then left behind when she evolved into higher places. I send her my love each time I smile at my collection.”
Cat blinked. Some of this stuff was still beyond her—and she heard a response between Leilani’s lines: if she bought this place, the angels stayed whether she liked them or not.
They moved on to the kitchen, a separate alcove where white appliances gleamed against ocean-blue walls. From louvered doors of sunshine yellow streamed rays of afternoon sunlight, with a breeze that felt cooler as the day came to a close. Cat looked forward to watching a glorious sunset from the porch they’d just left.
“Ramon and I have our quarters on the west side of the house,” her guide explained as they ascended the graceful freestanding stairway. “We thrive in the heat of the day, while Miss Borgia preferred cooler rooms and the less intense light of morning.”
“I’m with her,” Cat agreed, and then she let out a low sigh. They were stepping into a suite of airy, pristine white…white tile floors and stucco walls, with more of that glossy mahogany furniture: a four-poster bed canopied in heavy cutwork lace of bridal white. The white comforter and pillows covered in blues and yellows invited her for a much-needed nap. A window seat looked out over the bay and the unbelievably beautiful water. A desk and bookcases filled an alcove that gave her a view of the gardens below, and her bathroom flooring and fixtures glistened bright white, with towels of the same ocean blue as the shutters throughout the house.
Cat gazed in awe at this space, so peaceful and perfect it looked like a page from the decorating magazines Trevor subscribed to. A room like she herself could never have put together with such simple yet sophisticated details.
“I…I feel like an intruder, taking over Valenzia’s suite—”
“Fear not,” Leilani assured her. “We’ve removed her clothing and the personal effects she left behind, along with the contents of her desk, knowing that whoever bought this home would bring her own belongings. I left your books in the case, however. She would want you to know how she enjoyed your work.”
Unable to suppress a grin, Cat lovingly drew a finger along the paperbound spines she knew so well. “A complete collection,” she mused, “starting with Ride the Wild Wind and the Flame trilogy…. I haven’t thought about these characters and their stories for years! I was writing on an electric typewriter—assuming a computer would stifle my muse—when my first romance got published. How antiquated does that seem?”
“Perhaps their presence will inspire you, dear.” Leilani gazed around the room with the pride of one who’d maintained it for years. “If you want or need anything—anything at all—please tug on this bell pull. Once for me, twice for Ramon. We live right across that hallway, and we hear the bells from all over the house.”
“I—I can’t imagine having servants at my beck and call, so I doubt I’ll—”
“Get used to it.” Leilani’s eyes twinkled like the sunlit sea. “We’ll feel superfluous if you don’t summon us, Catalina. What good is being an angel if you can’t bestow your blessings on those around you?”
Again Cat couldn’t imagine any American domestic thinking that way…but then, Leilani was unlike any housekeeper she’d ever seen. Her sun-kissed body glowed with vitality. Her sari fastened at her shoulder with a simple knot: the breeze fluttered the fabric to reveal lovely legs and feet adorned with the simplest of sandals. She opened the balcony doors overlooking the ocean as if she were giving Cat the greatest of gifts.
Cat swallowed. When the sunlight silhouetted her, Leilani appeared naked in the gauzy dress. Not a hint of a bra or a thong. Her smile said she knew quite well what an enticement she was.
“I spent many a fine hour advising the Contessa on affairs of the heart and soul, and I look forward to doing the same with you, Catalina. Such intimacies are foreign to you, I know,” she added with an arched eyebrow. “You are a loner and an introvert by nature. But your soul is like a lotus flower, just waiting for its time to blossom and bring its unique beauty to the world. I’m honored to be here for your awakening.”
Her mouth opened, but Cat didn’t know what to say—an unsettling experience for a writer whose words had always flowed easily. Or at least they had until she started her pirate project.
“I’ll leave you now. You’re tired, and you need to immerse yourself in Porto Di Angelo as you rest, to reaffirm your sense of belonging here.”
“How do you know that? What do you mean?” Her questions sounded harsh and impatient, but damn! She could only handle so much of this talk from a higher realm.
“We’ll talk of past lives and reincarnation some day…and I’ll reveal the whys and wherefores of your deep feelings for this island. Meanwhile,” she added with a coy smile, “don’t forget to let those at home know you’ve arrived safely.”
With that, Leilani drifted from the room like mist on a warm morning.
Cat knew she was too damn tired when she thought she saw the flutter of gossamer wings as the housekeeper descended to the kitchen. Not a drop of rum punch yet, and already she was a goner.
4