Cuban Sun (3 page)

As Sofia returned the greeting and shook Helena’s hand, she studied the woman in front of her. Helena was definitely Irish. Her creamy skin, thick straight russet hair and hazel eyes gave her away immediately. The eyes that met hers were kind, intelligent and held the spark of humor. Seeing it, Sofia relaxed.

“So, do you play?” Helena asked again.

Sofia gave a rueful laugh, “No, I was kicked out of piano class when I was nine. Apparently, my progress over the previous six months had been unsatisfactory.”

“Oh, how so?”

“Well, I could still only play
Mary Had a Little Lamb
. But I think it was the attempts at smashing the piano after each song that made Madame Reina forgo the tuition in favor of saving her instrument.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Helena “You tried to smash the piano?”

This was one of her late mother’s favorite stories and Sofia loved to tell it. “Oh, well, I was watching a lot of MTV then, you know, when the guitar players smashed their instruments to bits at the end of a concert?”

Helena paused for just a moment and then let out a whoop of laughter startling Sofia. “How wonderfully logical for a child! If they could do it with a guitar why couldn’t you do it with a piano? I’ll just bet that was a sight to see!” Recovering from mirth, Helena motioned Sofia into the galley, but it wasn’t really a true galley, tiny and dark. They stood in a full gourmet kitchen. All of them fit in the gleaming, stainless steel room.

“This is quite an on-board kitchen”, said Sofia thinking back to her apartment kitchen that was exactly four feet square.

“Helena does all the cooking.” Joe said with pride.

Helena waved a hand “It’s therapeutic. Some people knit, I cook. Well, for dinners with less than eight people that is. Any more than that and I hire someone. I’d like to keep what little sanity I have left in my old age.”

“Don’t let her fool you”, Quint said. “She’s one hell of a cook.” Then with a wink at Helena he said, “Why do you think I still work for you?”

Joe interjected, “Well, it’s not for my sparkling personality, I know that.” This comment was rewarded with laughter.

Sofia looked around the galley again. She herself had never cooked for more than roommates or a few friends and was inspired. On impulse she turned to Helena, “Can I help you with dinner?”

“Oh, that’s nice of you but you should get settled before we eat. I’m sure you want to unpack and dress. Quint, can you show Sofia to her stateroom? See you in an hour.”

Sofia thanked Helena and turned to Quint. Quint led her down to the stateroom level and opened the door one of the three guest cabins. Opening the door, Sofia noted that what the room lacked in size, a scant eight feet by eight feet, it made up for in elegance and comfort. The wall opposite the entrance was a solid sheet of glass, looking out onto the red-gold sunset over the harbor. The wall continued into the cozy en-suite bathroom tiled in a mosaic of white and green sea glass. The centerpiece of the bedroom was the inviting queen bed. Crisp, cool Egyptian cotton sheets were layered beneath a feather weight duvet, and the fluffiest down pillows Sofia had seen. All this was framed by a curved and tufted light turquoise headboard of shantung silk. The materials used spoke to the level of care and maintenance the yacht received. It was virtually impossible to keep down duvets, pillows and silk from rotting in the constant humidity of a life aboard. No trace of damp was evident on the fine linens, only the promise of comfort and sleep. Sofia lightly touched the duvet. She wanted to sink into its depths and only emerge in the morning.

Instead, she sighed and went to the bank of built in drawers and cupboards to unpack and dress for dinner. She frowned as she pulled out her chosen outfits. She had wavered about what to bring but in the end determined to bring her normal clothing for day and outfits from her life in Connecticut for evening. Sofia shivered despite the warmth. She had thought never to wear these again. Never to be drawn back into the life of wealth, deceit and corruption.
What am I doing?
She thought. Sofia sat heavily on the dressing bench at the foot of her bed and thought. If she was honest with herself, she knew what she was doing. She wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the job, about Quint, about herself and her direction. But after meeting Joe and Helena, she genuinely wanted to see what this job was about. Helena and Joe Canvar intrigued her and she felt a connection with them. So, that’s what she would do, move forward and find out. With renewed purpose, she went back to the cupboard. Though it had been several years since she had dressed for a dinner, the ritual came back easily.

Sofia slowly examined each item. The occasion was important, elegant, but less formal than a dinner out or a catered dinner aboard. She also considered that she was the only guest. With mingled exasperation and fondness she remembered her mother’s often recited refrain, “Sofia you must know when to dress with sheen, shimmer and sparkle. Sheen is for informal events, shimmer is for cocktail parties and sparkle is for big celebrations.”

With this in mind, Sofia moved from the shimmery coral cocktail dress with seed pearls on the bodice and passed over the black Valentino. Black was for elegance and sobriety. She felt a bit of levity in this event and pulled out her Little Blue Dress. The navy blue tone was perfect for times when the Little Black Dress is just a hair too much. Blue is slightly less sober, a little more casual. As she slipped the dress over her head, the familiar feeling of putting on armor came over her. The ritual gave her time to focus, prepare herself for uncertain situations. It made her feel a little more powerful, invincible. She needed that right now to dispel the nervous twinges in her stomach. Sofia wanted to impress tonight, it was practice for future interviews if not for this particular job. The dressed skimmed her curves and fell to its proper place at the knee showing just two inches of the grass green charmeuse underskirt.

Carefully, she twisted her glossy, caramel infused hair up into a sleek chignon, applied make up and peep toes which emphasized her athletic calves beautifully. Topped with a set of two carat peridot studs, she was ready. Sofia entered the dining room to find Joe seated at the table examining files in a crisp white guayabera shirt and linen trousers. He looked up and saw her in the doorway.

“Sofia, don’t you look lovely. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

Sofia accepted just as Helena came through the door with a chilled seafood tower. An avocado and tomato bruschetta and enormous green salad were already on the table. The intoxicating smell of lemon, garlic, oysters and lobster lured her into the room, pulling her as if on a line, the fish exacting their revenge. Joe saw her staring “It was swimming in the ocean only two hours ago! Our guy at the dock lets us have first pick.”

“It looks delicious.” She looked around and then asked “Will Quint be joining us?”

Joe handed her a glass of crisp Pinot Gris and said, “He had a meeting on shore. He just returned and is changing. He should be out in a minute. These oysters will keep for a bit.” Sofia’s stomach gave a loud grumble at the news that it had to wait. She always felt hungry during intense situations. In school, Sofia always kept a snack with her for exams and visits with her father’s associates.

Helena tactfully pretended not to notice but suggested, “While we wait, why don’t I show you the sundeck?”

“I’d love to see it, thank you.”

The sun deck occupied the majority of the upper deck of the yacht. “This is my favorite place” said Helena. Sofia could see why. Four deep cushioned coral and white striped lounge chairs occupied the space beside the plunge pool and spa. It also boasted an incredible view of blue, green and turquoise set off by the city skyline. Clear glass deck railing created an uninterrupted view making it all the more vibrant.

“You have something very special here Helena. I’m surprised you ever go below deck at all.” Helena answered with wry humor.

“Well Sofia, with your skin tone that may be possible”, gesturing at Sofia’s easily tanned olive skin “but try as I might, my Irish pallor isn’t so obliging. It goes bright red in an hour or so even with sun block. I won’t get plastic surgery, so sun damage is out.”

“You don’t need plastic surgery, you look very fit.” Sofia remarked.

“For my age, I suppose.”

“For any age”, said Sofia and meant it. Despite being in what Sofia guessed as late fifties, Helena was slim but not skinny. She obviously exercised and took care in her diet.

Helena smiled. “You’re very sweet.” She patted Sofia’s arm before continuing. “It’s adventure that does it” she said casting a glittering green look at Sofia. “Adventure, work and the sea. That’s all one needs to stay feeling young. Well, that and a good face cream” she amended. Sofia’s bubbling laugh escaped at that. Helena continued, “I swim everyday as long as Mother Nature cooperates. It clears the mind.” Then she turned to Sofia. “What do you do? You must have something that helps you. You’re in law school and you don’t look as if you’ve resorted to binge drinking or drugs.”

Sofia laughed again, “No. Nothing like that. I’m a kayaker and cyclist myself. I love my long bike ride on the Battery after class. Seeing the color of the homes, the ocean. It gets rid of the cobwebs and I actually feel like I’ve gotten a break before I have to start up again when I get home. I do enjoy other sports, but I always get pulled back to the sea.”

“I agree with you there. I’m glad you have something. In this kind of work, you need an outlet or you go under very quickly.”

“I can imagine. What’s Joe’s outlet? Do you mind my asking?”

Helena tilted her head evasively, “I’ll tell you when you’re older dear.” Sofia felt uncomfortable and willed herself not to blush. Helena’s smile widened and said “I’m sure Quint is ready by now, let’s go down.”

THREE

Indeed Helena was correct; in the dining area Quint held a tumbler of scotch talking with Joe. They both turned hearing the ladies’ enter. Sofia was slightly taken aback. She had never seen Quint look quite like this. Confident and effortless in a crisp button up shirt, dove grey blazer and trousers and platinum watch. He had obviously only had time to shower and dress. He had not shaved which lent a rugged note to the refined ensemble. Sofia usually saw Quint in his Columbia and North Face gear and in his “professor clothes”, but this was something altogether different. She had thought him quite attractive before but now, he looked… well, there was no other term for it. He looked sexy as hell. Quint turned and caught Sofia’s eye.

“Both of you look beautiful.” he said, keeping his eyes on Sofia.

“Shall we sit down?” Helena suggested.

The dinner passed pleasantly with light conversation. They sat and chatted about the day, about life at sea and the sweet, tender seafood. Sofia felt glad of the opportunity to get her feet under her before they officially started the interview.

After retiring to the living area when they finished dinner, Joe asked, “Sofia, have you ever heard of the 1935 Rudolph Caracciola Mercedes Benz 500K?”

“The Roadster Limousine?” Sofia’s eyes brightened.

“Ah, you
have
heard of it.” Joe and Helena looked impressed. “Go on, then.”

“It’s the car Mercedes Benz made for the race car driver Rudolph Caracciola as a gift. It’s one of a kind, certainly one of the most elegant pre-war cars ever made. But, isn’t it supposed to be rotting in some car part lot near L.A.?”

Joe shrugged, “Not exactly. We have reason to believe it was moved from there in the mid-nineties and is now in the hands of a collector.”

“How did you find out that it’s not in Los Angeles? The lot owner is supposed to be intensely private and tight on security.”

“Like all good entrepreneurs, we keep track of our resources.” Sofia began to ask a question, but Joe forestalled her. “In our business it’s imperative to keep track of anything that could be useful to us.”

Quint opened his mouth and looked as if he were going to continue explaining. A sharp look from Joe stopped him. Sofia was puzzled but didn’t speak. It was an interview after all, though she was more than a little intrigued by their interest in the car. The 500K was something only serious car collectors would actually keep track of. Why would lawyers care? Was this a suit to get the car back perhaps? Were they going to ask her to do interviews? She thought she could handle that fairly well. It might even be a little exciting. Wait, what was she doing? She was here as practice, not to take the job.

Helena broke Sofia’s supposition. “For your interview to be successful, you will need to find out exactly where the car is now.”

Were they proposing what Sofia thought? She alone would track down the car? She took a breath and said “I see, and this would be accomplished by searching title records, auction rosters and I imagine property tax documents?” She hoped she sounded matter-of-fact, not desperately hopeful like she felt. One look at the three faces in front of her gave the answer.

“Well, most of that work has already been done.” Helena said, “You will need to extract the information on the exact location through conversations with collectors.”

“You mean interviews.” Sofia asked though she didn’t think wealthy collectors would just drop everything to be interviewed by a law student.

“Ah, no” said Joe, his slightly curly salt and pepper hair lifting in the breeze that meandered through the open doors. Despite the wind, Sofia was boiling. This was sounding more and more confusing. She had to get the location without records and without interviews, the two things law school had actually prepared her to do. She wished they would just come out with what they wanted her to do. On the other hand, if they were dragging it out, maybe she didn’t want to know. Sofia glanced at Quint for support. He had promised that Joe and Helena were not psychotic. Quint cut a look at Joe who nodded.

Quint started slowly as if trying to find the best phrasing “You see Sofia, a lot of the background work has already happened. So, we know generally that the car is in Miami and this type of car collector, the ones who are interested in this kind of vehicle, are thin on the ground here. Most collectors in Miami are young, party types who want the latest and greatest.”