CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The formal dining room in Shabina Foster’s home was large, the ceiling high and the walls made of what appeared to be white marble with thin gold veins running through them. If one looked closely, that was exactly what they were made of. The ceiling overhead had heavy beams of redwood quartering the deep insets of subtle gold. The floors matched the subtle gold of the ceiling and pull the very thin, jagged veins of gold from the walls. The room defied description, but then Shabina’s entire house did.
She owned the local café and worked from early morning until late afternoon serving customers, some very surly. Even the car she drove, a RAV4, was modest for the area when one could afford the best, and yet when she went home, few knew the home she went to was behind closed ornate gates. The drive led to a three-car attached garage with radiant floor heating. The garage was attached to a four-bedroom, four-full-bath home with a library, game room, chef’s dream kitchen and formal dining room as well as a smaller, more intimate dining room and many other appointments, including an indoor pool and exercise room. Mostly, Stella knew, it was the kitchen and the grounds Shabina had fallen in love with.
Outside the two-story mansion, a gray-and-white stone pathway meandered through beautiful, well-kept gardens with several water features before going up three long round stairs that curved around the front of the deep verandah. The lanai was long and was shaded by a roof to keep the unrelenting sun off those enjoying an afternoon breeze. Screens fit along the railings to keep out insects, protecting the occupants from nasty bites.
Stella loved Shabina’s home. At first glance, it might seem pretentious, but it was warm and homey and always welcoming. If she’d had Bailey with her, he would have been right in that formal dining room, nose to nose with Shabina’s handsome boys, three large Doberman pinschers: Morza, Sharif and Malik. Her dogs accompanied her everywhere. Stella had been shocked when Jason had issued his warning about Shabina not going into the forest alone. She always had her very well-trained dogs with her. Didn’t everyone know that? Would someone shoot her dogs like they had stabbed Bailey?
“What are you thinking about, Stella? You’re looking at my boys like they might suddenly come out of their dog beds and attack,” Shabina said, putting one of the sketches back down on her gleaming cherrywood formal dining table.
The table was massive and sat beneath a tiered chandelier that appeared to be dripping a multitude of chains of raindrops. Stella had never considered it odd that Shabina had dog beds in every room for the three Dobermans. She was a dog person. Bailey usually went with her, and if he didn’t go into a home, he was out in her rig. Most of her friends wanted her to bring him inside. Vienna’s cat was the only exception, and Vienna was mortified over her princess acting so snobby. She was determined that someday the silly cat would come around and appreciate the dogs. Her friends all knew that was never happening.
“Remember I told you Jason whispered that warning to me about you going into the forest alone? You always have the dogs with you. Someone stabbed Bailey. Do you think he meant they would hurt your boys? All three of them? They would have to in order to harm you, Shabina. I don’t think they’d run away if someone came at you.”
Shabina’s eyes, those strangely colored, intense royal-blue eyes, stared directly into hers. “No, they would never run away. Aside from being my companions, they’re trained personal protection dogs. I love them dearly, and they’re rarely away from me. At the café, they’re in a room with the door open so they can see me at all times.”
“How did I not know that all this time? Bailey knows some commands, but he wasn’t trained by a professional. Were they?” Stella looked at the three Dobermans.
“Yes. And then I was trained to handle them as well. I’ve had them from the time they were puppies, but we were given strict instructions on how to interact as they got older.”
“Why would you need them, Shabina?”
Shabina shrugged. “My dad works all over the world. He used to take my mother and me with him. We’d spend months in one place. Sometimes there were factions that didn’t like Americans. When I was fifteen, I was kidnapped on my way home from school. My bodyguards were killed and I was taken by some pretty vile men.”
For a moment, her lips trembled and she turned away from Stella. Stella could barely believe what she was hearing. In all the years she’d known Shabina, she’d appeared composed and confident. For just that brief instant there was a crack in that perfect serenity, but she recovered fast.