Rafael's Convenient Proposal

But upon closer inspection, Lianor’s olive skin and dramatic brown eyes were in direct contrast to Mallory who’d inherited a peaches-and-cream complexion from her mother. Still, the observation had pleased both of them.

“Loving your work is a blessing, Lianor. Not everyone does. Without the right manager that store wouldn’t be doing as well, and certainly not this soon. Liz has arranged for you to receive a bonus in your next paycheck for all your hard work.”

Lianor beamed before whispering her thanks. “When my brother first heard I’d been hired to manage a cosmetic shop on the rua Da Plata, he warned me I’d be out of a job in a few months because it would fold in the old district. Instead the locals and tourists flock to it.”

Mallory’s eyes danced. “From what you’ve told me, your brother is one of the most successful businessmen in the country. But because he’s a man, he doesn’t understand that a woman will stop whatever she’s doing long enough to try out new cosmetics.”

Her friend nodded. “Rafael’s wife, Isabell, the one I told you about who died ten years ago, was a natural beauty. She rarely used makeup or lipstick around him because he didn’t like it. He says all men prefer women au naturel, so he discounts its importance.”

“But he can’t discount the earnings of your shop now, can he.”

Again her friend grinned. “No, and it’s killing him to admit it.”

“In that case, it might be interesting for him to see the results of our marketing department’s studies done among men throughout Europe. I brought a chart with me. The Portuguese statistics, particularly, would be very illuminating if he ever took the time to look at them.”

“Tell me!” Lianor cried like a co-conspirator.

Mallory brushed the hair away from her cheek, getting caught up in the excitement with her. “Only twenty-one percent of Portuguese men prefer their women without lipstick.”

“I knew it!” her companion blurted.

“The other seventy-nine percent is divided; twenty-eight percent love their women in shocking pink lipstick, followed by seventeen percent who love lip gloss. Sixteen percent like pale pink and the softer shades. Ten percent prefer red, and seven percent like beige or brown.”

Laughter broke out on Lianor’s lips. “Rafael’s forte is marketing. As he says, ‘It’s all in the figures.”’

“He’s right. They don’t lie.”

“I can’t wait to show him that chart, but I’m afraid it will only upset him more.”

“Why? Surely he wants you to succeed!”

“It isn’t that. He’s been unhappy ever since I was hired.”

This was the first Mallory had heard of it. “I don’t understand. After college you worked in the marketing division of a large department store several years before joining the company.”

“That’s true, but I wasn’t the manager.”

“With your talents and background, you should have been,” Mallory stated emphatically. “What is it about your being in charge that bothers him so much?”

“That’s not the problem. Simply put, he wants me to get married, settle down and raise a family. You’d have to be a younger sister and Portuguese to understand. It’s a male thing here. He’s my older brother and protective and—”

“Say no more,” Mallory broke in. “I’ve met his type before. They’re alive and well in America too. You would know what I meant if you could have watched the television talk show I was on last night.” She proceeded to tell Lianor about her experience with Jack Hendley.

Lianor nodded. “Sounds like Rafael. He’s afraid I’ll never meet a man as long as I’m running a store, let alone one that sells women’s products. What he doesn’t realize is, I could go out every night of the week, and still not come across a man who truly interests me.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Mallory flashed her a compassionate glance. “In order to placate your brother, you might remind him that part of our new advertising campaign is geared to reaching the male population—that group looking for a special personal gift for his wife, girlfriend, or mother.

“Knowing what the Portuguese men want, the company is prepared to cater to their individual tastes. Assure him you’ll be meeting a lot of male customers as time goes by.”

“Unfortunately Rafael wants that miracle to happen now. Tonight!”

They both broke into laughter.

“It sounds like he loves you a lot,” Mallory observed.

“He does, and it’s mutual.”

Mallory already knew that. No matter the topic of conversation, since she’d first met Lianor, her brother’s name always managed to creep into the conversation.

Lianor flicked her another glance. “Your father was so nice and laid-back. Does he ever get upset because you’re not married yet?”

“Maybe,” Mallory murmured honestly, “but neither he nor mom has ever said anything. It’s probably because they didn’t marry until their early thirties. They don’t want to come off sounding like hypocrites.”

“My mother was just nineteen when she married my father. Rafael proposed to Isabell when she was only twenty.”

Rafael again. “What do you think’s the reason he hasn’t remarried?”

Her companion let out a deep sigh. “It isn’t for a lack of women! Most of the time I’m appalled at the lengths they go to in order to capture my brother’s attention. But the plain truth is, he loved Isabell so much, it almost killed him when she died. Since then he’s been devoted to Apolonia, and has buried himself in work.”

Apolonia. The niece with the beautiful name.

“Maybe you need to get busy and find him someone he could love. You know him better than anyone else. If he married again, he might not be quite as concerned about your single status.”

“Don’t count on it,” Lianor muttered. “However you’ve given me an idea to solve a problem that’s been plaguing me since he came to the store earlier today with bad news. It has shaken me for several reasons.”

The unexpected emotional throb in Lianor’s voice alerted Mallory that whatever was on her mind was serious. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventured quietly.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up, but you’re too good a listener.”

“I feel the same way about you. Why do you think I came to Portugal?”

Lianor’s head jerked around for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“You’re running the store so well, I didn’t really need to come. But since I was already in New York, it seemed the perfect opportunity to take you up on your offer to visit.”

“I’m glad you did, Mallory.”

“So am I.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday and the shop will be closed. I’ll take you sight-seeing. Give yourself a couple of weeks here and we’ll be able to cover the whole city on foot if you want.”

“Oh I want,” she assured the other woman. “If only I could take two weeks off to do nothing but soak up the atmosphere. Nevertheless tomorrow I’m hoping to sleep in and then lie on the beach. I haven’t had a real holiday since I went to work for Liz.”

“That’s too long to go without,” Lianor chastised her, in the nicest possible way of course.

Mallory’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Now that we have that settled, tell me about your brother’s bad news.”

In a few minutes she’d put Mallory in the picture.

“Maria’s virtually irreplaceable,” Lianor confided further. “We all love her, and Rafael has depended on her so totally, I’m worried. Of course he has Ines, his housekeeper. He can rely on her to help him with my niece, but it’s only a temporary solution.

“I have to face the fact that word of Maria’s fatal illness changed his whole world today. As for Apolonia, the loss will be devastating when she finds out Maria isn’t coming back.”

Mallory could only agree.

“My closest girlfriend from childhood has recently come out of an ugly divorce from her Spanish husband. She’s back from Madrid and needs something to absorb her time right now. Rafael has always known Joana and liked her. So has Apolonia. I’m thinking if she came to help, it would be good for all three of them.”

“You could be right,” Mallory said. “Given time, they might even fall in love. How nice would that be. Your best friend becoming your sister-in-law.”

“Don’t think I didn’t used to fantasize about it. However that was a long time ago, before Rafael fell for Isabell and dashed both our dreams.”

“You mean yours and Joana’s.”

“Yes. She was crazy about my brother.”

Somehow that news didn’t surprise Mallory, not if he was as remarkable as Lianor—in all the ways that really counted.

At this point they’d reached the coast, a breathtaking sight this time of night. The smell of the ocean intoxicated her. Waves crashed against the sand, creating froth that stood out in the darkness. She could hear the pounding surf, that familiar sound she craved almost as much as she craved air to breathe. She didn’t know how much she’d missed it until now.

They rounded a curve on the winding highway. Suddenly she let out a cry. There was a baroque palace on a cliff in the distance, lit up as if it hung in the sky. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing is real,” she whispered. “What’s the name of it, Lianor?”

“Rafael and I call it home, but the tourists know it as the Palacio D’Afonso.”

Speechless, Mallory’s head turned, unable to do anything but stare at her friend.

“It was one of several small palaces built by King Pedro the Second of Portugal. Some historians claim he had it built and named it in honor of his brother King Afonso who was paralyzed and died at the age of eleven. Others say he built it out of guilt after deposing Afonso and exiling him to the Azores while Pedro was acting regent.”

“Ooh—that doesn’t sound good.”

Lianor chuckled. “By the time my great-grandfather inherited it, the cost of keeping it up forced the family to turn it into a hotel so it wouldn’t pass from the D’Afonso line. Historians still argue whether it began through one of Pedro’s illicit liaisons with a courtesan. We’ll never know for sure.

“After our parents died at sea, Rafael was the one who made it into the prosperous resort it is today. Because of his genius, our family now owns half a dozen small castles and palaces in various parts of the country which have been converted into tourist resorts we call pousadas.”

To the average onlooker, the D’Afonso family would seem to be living a fairy-tale existence. But like all human beings, they had their own share of private tragedies to deal with.

“Did you ever ask your brother if you could manage one of them?” Mallory couldn’t help asking.

“No. I’ve always wanted to do my own thing.”

“We’re kindred spirits, Lianor.”

“I know. That’s what’s got Rafael worried.”

“Now you’re making me nervous.”

“Please don’t be. I’ll have you know he has made arrangements for you to stay in the best suite. Just last week it was occupied by the President of Mexico and his wife.”

Mallory shook her head. “I don’t want or need special treatment.”

“Maybe not, but you’re going to get it. I know how hard you’ve worked since law school. It’s time for you to be pampered, so sit back and enjoy it.”

A chuckle escaped Mallory’s throat. “When you put it like that…”

“Thank you for not arguing with me. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

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