Then it occurred to her - this was her worst fear. She’d been right about leaving the job sooner, rather than later. In fact, it was clear, that she’d waited too long! A baby’s first words were supposed to be Mommy or Daddy, not the name of their nanny.
“Crap,” she said to herself.
“Anton no no and Joan no-” he repeated.
“No, no, don’t say that, you shouldn’t say that,” She said to him, voice rising.
Marco’s face screwed up and he started to cry. “No, no, I’m sorry, don’t cry. Hush,” she said as she hurried to scoop him up and soothe him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little man. It’s okay... shhhh, you don’t have to talk again. Saying first words is hard, isn’t it? Especially words like that. I know much easier words. You should learn Mama or Papa instead, those are easier. What do you think? Much, much easier.”
Marco fussed, so she carried him and rocked him gently as she paced in the room. She started singing a lullaby.
“Baby Marco, little man,
go to sleep baby Marco,
while your sleeping
little angel,
practice speaking these first words.
Maaaama and Paaaapa,
Paaaaapa and Maaaama,
Maaaaama and Paaaaaapa,
Paaaaaaapa and Maaaaaama.
Go to sleep... go to sleep...
Go to sleep, precious Marco....”
Joan lay him back into his crib, making sure he was asleep, then let herself out of the house and lock the door behind her just as Raul drove up.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T want me to come upstairs with you?”
“No, it would be better if you were just standing by. This is something I need to do by myself.”
“If I stay in the lobby and he tries something, how can I help you? Can I at least come up with you? I’ll stay down the hall, close enough to help if you need it but far enough away not to listen or get in the way.”
Joan shrugged. Maybe Raul was right. They took the elevator up and didn’t speak.
When they stepped out Joan directed Raul to an alcove where there was an ice maker and some vending machines. “Stay here unless I call for you, okay?”
“Of course,” he said.
She started to walk down the hallway, heart racing. The elevator dinged and her heart thudded anxiously. What if it’s him? She rushed back next to Raul and flattened herself against the wall as the door opened, then peered around the corner and gasped.
It was Julio Torres. According to Lissa, Julio was supposed to be in Milan taking care of last-minute business details. Half expecting to see some bimbo on his arm, Joan felt an urge to jump out from behind the ice machine and scream, “Gotcha, you cheating cad!” When she heard the voice of a man speaking in Spanish she realized that Julio wasn’t there looking for a room for a tryst. He was being escorted by what sounded like some kind of hotel manager.
She tried to understand the conversation, picking up just a few words from the manager. “I can’t let you into his room, even if you paid for his stay.” And, “Please, sir, I insist that you need to come back downstairs.”
Julio’s response was easier to understand.
“What if I got Mr. Ferraro on the telephone and he gave you permission to let me get his things. Then could I get in?”
“Si, Señor, Si.”
The two men remained near the elevators only feet away from where she hid. Joan stepped back, pushing Raul father into the tiny hiding space. Ice clattered into the machine, startling Joan, and she stepped backward onto Raul’s shoe. He grunted. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Que?” said the manager.
Raul’s fingers tightened on her shoulder as they both froze and tried not to breathe.
Julio responded with irritation in his voice. “Un momento por favor, I’m still trying to get him on the phone.”
Joan and Raul each let out tiny gasps of relief. Joan shook her shoulders and Raul dropped his hand, stepping away from her to give her space.
At least he isn’t being a dick.
“Ah, Antonio,” Julio said, his voice lifting with obvious relief. He spoke in English, “Antonio, this is Julio. Listen, can you please explain to the hotel manager that I have your permission to get your things out of your room?”
There was a pause.
“Please, don’t mention it. Like I said, I’m happy to help. Please, just tell the manager that you authorize me to remove your things.”
Joan’s heart thumped. Antonio was on the other end of that phone call. For some reason Julio was removing his things from his room.
If he wasn’t going to be coming back to get his things himself, then where was he? How would she question him about her money? About... well, about them, if he wasn’t coming back?
She started to lean out into the hall, her foot pressing forward. She would just jump out, grab the phone from the manager and have a chat with Antonio while she had the chance.
“What are you doing?” hissed Raul, pulling her back.
Joan shook her head. Raul was right. What was she doing? The last thing she wanted was for Julio to discover her at Antonio’s hotel the night after she’d gone on an alcoholic bender over him.
She pushed herself back into the hiding space.
Out by the elevators, she heard the manager speaking.
“Okay, Señor, but please be quick.”
They heard two pairs of footsteps walking down the hall. They heard the sound of a door opening and closing.
“We should go,” Joan said as she grabbed Raul’s arm and pulled him towards the elevators.
“What? You’re not going to confront him?”
“That wasn’t him... and he’s not coming back here.”
“Who was that?”
“Julio Torres. Y
ou don’t want him asking questions about why you and I were at a hotel together, do you?”
“Oh, I see your point.”
They hurried to the elevator and relaxed when the doors shut.
“So, what now?” Raul asked, a little excited from the night’s adventures so far.
“Get your car and let’s get ready to follow him.”
“Who?”
“Julio.”
“I thought he wasn’t the guy you wanted to talk to?”
Joan groaned inwardly. Raul was a nice guy and his heart was in the right place, but he was a little slow.
“He’s taking Antonio his things and, since I don’t know where Antonio is, if we follow Julio I’ll find out,” she explained.
“Oh, so the guy you want to talk to is Antonio. Who is he, your boyfriend?”
Joan gave him a withering look.
“Okay, okay, I didn’t mean to pry.”
Raul got his car from the valet and they drove off, then doubled back at the next light and parked just before the hotel.
“That’s them,” she said, pointing to the familiar limousine, driven by the Torres chauffeur.
“Follow that car,” Joan said.
“Your wish is my command.”
“Where are, they going?” Raul asked after they’d followed from a safe distance and the car had gone not to another hotel or even to any other address in the city, but instead towards the highway that would take them out of town.
“I don’t know. Can you just keep following them?”
“Actually, I kind of can’t,” Raul said.
“Why? I thought you said you’d help me.”
“I’d like to, but I didn’t realize I’d have to follow somebody. I’m almost out of gas.”
Joan leaned over and checked out his gas gauge. “Damn it,” she said.
“You’re going to see Julio at the wedding tomorrow, why don’t you just ask him then? I’d keep following him, but we’d just end up stranded on the highway and we’d lose them for sure. At least if I go back now I can get you home again. You didn’t want to be out all night, did you?”