She gave him an apologetic look. “If she doesn’t answer, don’t take it personally.”
“Why would I? She’s never met me.”
The door opened. Roman expected a grim-faced older woman in polyester pants and a flowered tunic. Elizabeth Walker looked ready to take office. She was attractive and fit for a woman in her forties, her makeup perfect, dark hair smooth. She stood a little over five feet tall, in black pumps, black slacks, a white silk blouse, and a single strand of pearls. Roman now knew where Grace had learned to dress as a professional.
“Hello, Aunt Elizabeth.” Grace offered the potted hydrangea. Roman bristled when the woman took it like a queen accepting a gift from a peasant too far beneath her to rate a thank-you. Then it occurred to him that he’d often treated Grace the same way.
Elizabeth Walker made room for them to enter. Her cool, hazel eyes fixed on him as he stepped over the threshold. Grace made formal introductions. Elizabeth had a firm grip. Plenty of women had looked him over before, but none the way this one did. He had the feeling she’d like to cut his heart out and put it on a scale.
“Why don’t we sit in the garden?” Elizabeth led the way through an immaculate and well-designed living room. She liked the same colors Grace did, but darker, more intense tones. He followed the two women out through the sliding-glass door, where he was invited to sit beneath a white pergola surrounded by a natural wonderland. The lawn could have served as a putting green. The waterfall in the back corner flowed into a pond with lily pads in bloom. Birds flittered and twittered around feeders; bees hummed. Roman didn’t have to wonder where the serpent was in this pseudo Garden of Eden. Elizabeth sat in a white wicker cushioned chair that looked like a throne.
Grace looked awestruck. “It’s beautiful, Aunt Elizabeth.”
Clearly, Grace hadn’t been home recently.
“It should be, considering the time and money I’ve spent on it.” She speared him with those cool eyes. “Grace told me you’re an artist, Mr. Velasco. What sort of art do you do?”
“A little of this and that.” He’d bet the cost of one of his paintings she’d already googled him or called one of her minions to pull his tax files. “Grace said you worked for the IRS.” She could get the full picture of what kind of art he did. Commercial.
“Once upon a time. You must be successful if you need a personal assistant. What exactly does Grace do for you?”
Grace spoke quickly. “I field calls, answer correspondence, pay bills, shop for groceries—”
Roman interrupted the flow. “Grace takes on whatever needs to be done so I’m free to paint.”
“Then your art isn’t all about waiting for inspiration.”
He stared back at her. “I paint what the market wants.” He waited for a snide remark, but she gave a simple nod and then told Grace to serve the refreshments. “There is a Bundt cake on the kitchen table and lemonade in the refrigerator. Make a pot of coffee, too. Miranda will be by shortly. I’ll have tea with lemon.”
Heat surged through Roman’s veins. He glanced at Grace, and saw she didn’t look the least bit upset that her aunt treated her like a servant. She stood and disappeared inside. Elizabeth leaned back and crossed her legs. Her hands rested on the arms of her throne. “So why are you here, Mr. Velasco? I know the spontaneous visit wasn’t Grace’s idea.”
“Why not?”
“She knows me well enough to give me a week’s notice.”
He leaned back, too. “I was curious.”
“Idle curiosity? Or is there a purpose behind it?”
“Why do I have the feeling you don’t like me?”
“I don’t have feelings about you one way or the other.” She tilted her head and raised one brow. “Yet.”
“I was curious what kind of family made Grace the way she is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And what way is that?”
“She works hard and does well. I trust her with my finances.” That ought to tell this accountant something. “She’s a good girl.” That should tell her the rest.
“Is that your way of saying you two aren’t sharing a bed on this business trip of yours?”
“Your niece has the morals of a nun, Mother Walker.”
She looked amused, not insulted. “Good for her.”
Roman figured he wasn’t going to learn anything if he didn’t cool off. “Grace said you took her in after her parents died.”