House of the Blue Sea (22 page)

“I’ve known many an actor like that, far too aware of their own good looks to be manageable,” Mark said.

“So, Mark, tell me about your work. I am not a watcher of movies or television—there are always too many horses to tend or train—so I apologize if I should have recognized you.” Alejandro reined in the dark stallion, trying to stay in step with Tranquilo’s steady gait.

“I’m not exactly a household name, at least not in America. I’m more often recognized in Britain.”

“For movies or for television?” Alejandro asked.

“Some of both, more movies in recent years.”

“Is that why you are in Mexico? Are you making a movie? If you require any horses ...” Alejandro offered his blinding smile.

“You would be the first one I’d recommend, but no, I’m here taking some time off. I’ll be starting on a new project very soon.”

Sandra stopped Tormenta to allow the others to catch up. “So it’s done then? You liked the script and it’s all settled?”

“Well no, not quite yet, but I’m expecting the script to arrive in the next couple of days. They’ve been doing some rewrites. It sounds very promising.”

“And you will go to England when it is done?” Alejandro asked.

“No, to Los Angeles, at least to start. I’m not certain where they’re planning to do the filming. Somewhere in the mid-west.”

“Sounds exciting, but I do not envy a travelling life. I had my share for twenty years and I am happy to stay home now.” Alejandro stroked Caliente’s neck as his eyes rested on the horizon. “I will not leave.”

“Ever?” Sandra asked. “Not even for a vacation?”

“
Vacaciones
? Now what would I possibly want a vacation
from
? All the years I travelled I only desired to be back in Mexico, settled on land of my own. Now here I am, so there is no need to go anywhere else.”

“And you have no wish to travel, to see places you haven’t been?” Sandra asked.

Alejandro closed his eyes, his body moving with the motion of the horse. “You must only stop concerning yourself with what you are missing elsewhere to appreciate what is here and now.” Alejandro opened his eyes and smiled as Rancho Azteca came into view.

T
he warm water felt luxurious streaming down her face and through her hair, washing away the salt and sand from her unplanned swim. There was sand in every nook and cranny of her body—between her toes, in her ears, under her fingernails, and in places that made her chuckle as she watched the tiny grains swirl around the drain in the red tile floor.

In the end it had been a fun afternoon and, despite her initial resistance, she had enjoyed Mark’s company. Why did he have to be so charming at times? It was easier to keep him at arm’s length when he was tossing chairs or going on about his celebrity life, so foreign to her own. He’d actually offered her his shirt, and it seemed he meant it. And now Alejandro had invited him for dinner and to stay over—damn his over-developed sense of hospitality! Mark would have been on his merry way this afternoon and Sandra could have continued with her ranch retreat. But, then again, he had been rather dashing astride the big bay mare, wearing that pair of borrowed Wranglers. What was it with movie stars that they could wear clothes so well? She spent hours trying on umpteen styles and sizes of jeans before finding a pair that looked half decent on her 49-year-old butt, and Mark looked like
that
in a random pair of jeans Alejandro had around the place. And, on top of that, he’d sat a horse rather well. She was feeling a bit guilty about her comments at lunch, mocking his riding ability and need for stunt doubles. But, so what, he could wear a pair of jeans and sit a horse, he was still not her type and she was still not interested in getting involved with him. Was that why he was here? The sailing, the art show, Pablo’s could all be chocked up to diversions from his troubles but driving down here to seek her out, that seemed something quite different.

***

“A
gain, you must excuse my lack of expertise in the kitchen. The barbecue is the only cooking appliance I am well acquainted with and so, tonight, we have steak with grilled vegetables and potatoes. However, to make up for my limited culinary skills, to accompany our meal ...” Alejandro pulled a bottle from behind his back and set it on the table with a flourish, “
el vino tinto
from my personal cellar.”

Mark picked up the bottle and read the label. “Temecula. I don’t know this area.”

“It is a small valley southeast of Los Angeles. Many of its wines are only available locally, but I have a good friend there who is a sommelier, and he makes shipping arrangements for what he considers the
best
of Temecula. I am fortunate to have such a friend, and tonight, I share my good fortune.” Alejandro gave a slight bow. “And now, how would you like your steaks prepared? It is organic beef from a neighboring ranch. They raise the Corriente cattle.”

“And is there a best way to eat this organic Corriente?” Mark asked.

“With a fork and a knife is my preference.” Alejandro responded with a straight face.

“Well yes, of course, but what I meant was—”

Alejandro’s smile danced in his eyes before lighting up his face. “
Perdón
, amigo, I am only having some entertainment at your expense. In my opinion, it is a shame to cook the Corriente too much and so I prefer it cooked to medium rare, at most. But, if you don’t like your meat a little bloody, then I can certainly leave it on the grill longer, and will not be offended. I will simply feel sad for you to miss out on the full experience.”

“Medium rare is good for me,” Sandra cut in. “Leaning slightly toward the rare.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll have the same,” Mark said.

“Enjoy some wine while I start the steaks. Perhaps Mark, you can open it? I apologize I did not allow it time to breathe. When Martina is not here to remind me ...” Alejandro shrugged and flashed a smile before turning and heading around the corner of the house.

“Is he always so ... animated?” Mark asked, still looking at the spot where Alejandro had disappeared.

“You know, he isn’t, but then this is a role I’ve not seen him in. Martina and her helper usually deal with the meals and serving. And with the horses, he is much more ...” Sandra searched for the word, “serene, I guess. He has this quietness around the students and horses, but a quietness filled with strength. He’s a remarkable person.”

“Paul said you were scheduled to come here next month, for a clinic or something.”

So he had been asking Paul questions. She’d assumed that’s how he’d found her. “Right, I was. I am. I’m coming back in mid-March to take a week-long session.”

“I was surprised you didn’t stay to attend more of the art show. I saw Pascual yesterday and he was disappointed to hear you’d gone away.”

“Yes, well, I felt like doing some riding and Alejandro had this one small window.”
And, I was trying to get away from you, as it happens.
“It was good of him to fit me in, especially without Martina here to help. He wasn’t anticipating two guests.”

“I hadn’t intended to stay the night. He seemed genuine with his invitation. Was I wrong to accept?”

“Alejandro is very genuine. If he invited you, he wanted to, and he’s accustomed to having guests. I’m just feeling responsible for his extra workload, since I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.” Sandra meant it more like a question than a statement.

Mark’s cheeks flushed with colour. “I suppose I’d best get this wine breathing before our host returns to find it still suffocating in there.” He stood and picked up the corkscrew, winding it into the top of the bottle. It was a simple tool, a t-shape with the bottom end a screw and a solid silver bar across it for pulling. With it fully screwed into the cork, Mark grabbed it with his right hand and held the bottle down with his left. His hands were broad, almost working hands, which struck Sandra as odd given his line of work. But then an actor probably had to get his hands dirty from time to time, depending on the role. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and a simple, silver-banded watch was on his left wrist, standing out brightly against tanned skin. He pulled on the corkscrew, the cork not wanting to leave its home, and the muscles in his hand and forearm flexed with the effort.

“You have a better method maybe?” His words came out strained.

Sandra didn’t respond, not understanding the question.

“You just looked like you might be sorting out another way of getting the job done.”

“Only a different kind of corkscrew, one of the little guys with the pull-down arms.” She motioned with her hands. “This type must have been developed for men to show off their strength.”

“Well it’s not working in my case.” Mark adjusted the bottle and pulled on the cork again. He gave one final tug, extracting the cork from its secure position. “Ah! There, you confounded thing!”

Sandra clapped her hands. “Well done, Sir Mark. You have saved the day.”

“Wine, m’lady?” Mark extended the bottle toward her glass. “It will breathe all the better out of this vitreous prison.”

He was smiling at her, with his eyes as much as his lips. His hair was lying in curls at his forehead giving him a boyish, vulnerable appearance. She met his gaze and felt pulled into those eyes the camera loved to show in close-up. “Yes ... please.”

***

D
espite Alejandro’s professed lack of culinary skills, dinner was delicious: steak grilled to perfection, potatoes seasoned in a blend of spices he’d not divulge, and a mix of winter vegetables that tasted fresh from the garden.

“You sell yourself short, Alejandro. Your cooking skills rival your horsemanship,” Sandra said before putting the final bite of steak in her mouth.

“Well, thank you.” Alejandro gave a gracious nod of his head. “I do my best.”

“And the wine ... I don’t know what to say about that; simply ... perfect.” Sandra picked up her glass.

“Perhaps I will let Martina lead the next clinic and I will prepare the meals.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Sandra laughed. “I think Martina is still master of the kitchen.”

“You are correct,
but
she is also a very good horsewoman. Many people do not know this because she is chained to the stove when a clinic is running.”

Mark was quiet during dinner, but in an easy, pleasant way, seemingly content to savour the food and the surroundings, and listen to Sandra and Alejandro chatter about horses. He smiled and nodded where appropriate, laughed at the right spots, and when he finished his meal ahead of the other two, he sat back in his chair and slowly sipped his wine.

“You are very quiet, amigo,” Alejandro said.

“I am made speechless by the meal and the company, not to mention this splendid location. I haven’t felt so satisfied in a long while. Thank you for having me.” Mark raised his glass in a toast.

“You are quite welcome. I hope you will return one day, perhaps participate in one of our clinics.”

“I don’t know about that, but you never know. Life is full of surprises.” His eyes went to Sandra with a look that sent tingles up the backs of her arms.

“Well ...” Alejandro looked from Mark to Sandra, “I must now get to the less enjoyable portion of the meal.” He stood and began picking up dishes from the table. “This is where Martina relies on her help but I have not such good fortune tonight.”

Sandra started to rise from her chair. “I can assist. Put me to work.”

He motioned for her to sit. “No, no. You sit, enjoy the rest of the wine, and I will rejoin you for tea in a short while. It is a small task to clean up after only three, especially when all of the food was cooked on a grill.” Alejandro’s smile shone in the fading evening light. He stacked the dishes into the grilling pans and went into the house.

The light was mostly gone from the sky, leaving a faint glow to the west. Caliente grazed in his paddock, a silhouette against the twilight. The screen door creaked open and Alejandro was back, carrying four votives of multi-coloured stained glass. “I almost forgot to give you some light. Soon you will be sitting in darkness.” He set the candles on the table and lit them before lighting a lantern that rested on a side table. Warm light filled the space. “
Mucho mejor
. Now you can see who you are talking to.”

Sandra felt one of those jittery Mark-Jeffery-fan-club moments coming on. She wished Alejandro would stay, or had taken her up on her offer of assistance with cleanup. But, as he said, cleaning up after a three-person barbecue wouldn’t take long. The screen door banged behind him. He’d be back soon enough.

“It’s a great spot here. I can see why you come,” Mark said.

“I love it. Between here and Mar Azul I feel I’ve scored the peaceful places jackpot.”

“I’m not sure I’d call galloping down a beach and diving into the surf peaceful.”

“Now that’s true, but it wasn’t my typical beach ride. It’s usually a much more relaxed experience, cantering along the sand with the waves rolling in
beside
me.”

“And yet you seemed to enjoy it, even with the sand down your pants.”

“I did. Sometimes it’s good to have something shake up your world a bit. Don’t you think?” Sandra asked.

“I’d like to say yes, since that would make me seem much more daring, but in truth, I don’t deal well with being shaken, as you’ve witnessed. Boring, really. One of the challenges of being an actor ... measuring up to characters who are unequivocally more exciting or interesting than you are.” He took a drink of wine and set the glass back on the table.

“Hm, I’d not thought of that. Admittedly, I’d say I did have some expectation you would be kind of like the characters you’ve played.”

“It’s the me you know.”

“Or did.”

He looked down at his hands resting in his lap and adjusted his watch band lower on the wrist. “So, have you been riding since you were a child? You ride well.”

“I’ve worked hard at it, partly because I took it up as an adult. The first summer I was out west I thought a pack trip in the Rockies seemed like the ‘quintessentially western’ thing to do. After five days on the back of a horse, despite the inability to walk normally for a week, I was hooked, completely and forever it seems. Once I was working and settled, I got a horse of my own.” Sandra swirled the wine in the bottom of her glass, watching its crimson legs linger on the sides before disappearing back into the pool. “He was a special guy. I lost him five years ago and I haven’t had the heart to replace him yet.” Sandra could feel tears filling her lower lids, threatening to spill down her cheeks.