Signature of a Soul Read online

  Lindy gnawed at one end of her sunglasses’ earpiece as she listened to her niece. “Let’s take a short stroll on the beach, and you can tell me all about them, like where they’re from and how old they are. Then, if they sound okay to me, you can go learn more about where they’ve been.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Michelle replied, “All right. Fair enough.” She folded her jeans up almost to her knees, kicked off her good sandals, and put on a pair of plastic clogs for the beach.

  Following the clearly-marked path to the private resort beach, they came to a sandy route with chain-connected stanchions allowing about six feet of walkway across for the short distance to the beach. Ahead the smooth, almost white sand stretched out along the coastline, where many people lounged under umbrellas enjoying the warm afternoon. Lindy glanced back over her shoulder to admire the view toward the mountains. Back toward Malaga, the Sierra Nevada mountains jutted up into the clear sky.

  But the fresh, salty scent of the sea beckoned, and Lindy hurried to catch up with her niece, who had strode on ahead and was almost to the water. As the sea washed on the shore, it touched it with light waves, no heavy breakers, or rushing foam. They walked along the edge, feeling the warmth of the sea brush against their skin.

  Michelle reached to slip her clogs off, but Lindy touched her hand. “Leave them on. Lots of pebbles along the waterline. Now, tell me about these two boys you met.”

  “They’re cool as ice. Sophomores from Boston University and over here for three weeks before they head back for the new semester. Connor’s a linguistics major, speaks four languages, including Spanish, and is studying political science. He plans to go into the diplomatic corps when he graduates. Alan is also a poly-sci major. They’re both really smart and kinda cute.”

  “Ah, there it is. The real reason you want to hang with them.” Lindy flashed a smile at her. “They’re a little older than you. Do they know you’re seventeen?”

  “Aunt Lindy!”

  “Well, I do have to look out for you, or my brother would have my hide. You can go talk, but nothing else. No going back to their room or anywhere else with them. And you will introduce me when I come to check on you in about thirty minutes.”

  Michelle’s mouth tightened in resignation, but she agreed.

  Lindy followed her niece at a discrete distance to get a glimpse of these young men and see which of the several pools they occupied.

  Strolling across the patio to another pool, Lindy swayed with grace, her pants clinging seductively to her shape. Always feminine and a very pretty woman, she was used to men noticing her. She found a pair of empty lounge chairs and took the one on the right, stretching her extended frame out, her long legs crossing at the ankles. She pulled out her reader and resumed reading a paranormal romance novel she’d started the previous night.

  She’d barely gotten a few minutes into it when a man sat in the chair next to her. She glanced over enough to see the newcomer was much older, silver-haired with a scraggly beard, ruddy cheeks, and bulbous nose, indicating he was a drinker, and he had a beer gut, telling even more of the story. So much for attracting a handsome man to flirt with. Shrugging, she turned back to her book.

  A half-hour later, Lindy ambled over to the pool where Michelle held court with the two guys, as well as an older, handsome man, seated at one of the poolside tables. Her slender niece wasn’t as curvaceous as Lindy, but she was a beautiful girl, and both of the young men seemed quite charmed by her. The other man was much too old to be flirting with her niece. Perhaps he was a parent of one of the boys, although Michelle didn’t mention anyone else being with them. Two college-age boys wouldn’t need parents along.

  Michelle held a fruity drink in her hand, and as she spotted her, she waved it in the air like a flag. With a smile, Lindy sashayed over and greeted them.

  “Hello, all. I’m Michelle’s aunt. You may call me Lindy.”

  Cutting in before she could embarrass her, Michelle said, “Aunt Lindy, this is Alan...” She motioned to the young man closer to her, a dark blond-haired youth with a light beard just a shade darker than his hair, who was slim and tanned a golden brown. He wore long beachcomber shorts in a bright zigzag pattern that would stand out like a distress flag on any beach. Alan nodded at her and murmured a greeting.

  “And this is Connor.” Michelle indicated the other young man. This one showed his Irish heritage in the blue eyes and black hair, as well as the handsome jawline. He looked more of a jock than his companion with a hint of a six-pack torso under his shirt, a slim waist, and well-muscled thighs and legs poking out from his more subdued tie-dyed blue swim trunks.

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, his voice a pleasant tenor with a Boston accent. Native to the city then, she concluded.

  Lindy turned her attention to the other man, who watched her with undisguised interest. Wearing sunglasses and a pleasant, but slightly amused smile, his sandy-brown hair accented his oval face and firm jaw. She estimated he was about her age, maybe a little older. His off-white short-sleeved cotton shirt and light beige slacks showed good fit and quality. A man of considerable means.

  “And this gentleman is Colin Hayes,” Michelle’s voice said while Lindy seized him up.

  “Mister Hayes,” she acknowledged with a touch of frost in her tone. She could not approve of him hanging out with an under-aged girl.

  “A pleasure, Ms. Morton. Your niece was telling us you’re a well-known graphic artist. I probably have a dozen or more books with your cover illustrations.” His voice was English, with a proper speech pattern, not showing a sign of the area of England where he grew up, suggesting he had a quality education.

  Unlike the boys, he offered his hand, then rose to pull out a chair for her. Good manners were rare these days, and she appreciated it. “I am an artist,” she said. “Graphic arts are only part of it. If you’ve seen my covers, then you know I began by painting them before it became popular to use CGI to create the images. It’s merely another skill set in the process, but you need to understand art to do it properly.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alan’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “Indeed, I do understand. While computers have improved much of the work artists and other creatives do, it is still imperative to know and understand the basics of the work.”

  In spite of her reservations, Lindy was beginning to warm to this man. “What is it you do, Mr. Hayes?”

  He smiled, a dazzling display of even, white teeth. “Nothing so artistic as your work, but I do help the process for others. I’m a television and movie producer, as well as a location scout, which is what I am currently doing.”

  “So, I gather you’re looking for film locations around here?”

  He nodded. “Here, in southern Spain, Morocco, and Italy. Possibly, I’ll consider other locations, but if I can find what I think the movie needs in these locations, then I can move on to more of the project, such as locking down agreements for the locations and getting filming permits.”

  “Sounds fascinating. Might I ask how you happened on my niece?”

  “It was the other way around, Auntie,” Michelle said. She gave Lindy an annoyed glance that suggested she was being rude. “Colin had the table, and we asked if we could join him. At the time, there were no other free ones. He’s been a very gracious host.” She lifted her drink again in emphasis.

  Acknowledging, Lindy said, “Then I must apologize, and thank you for your courtesy.”

  “I have been remiss as well. Might I get you a cold drink from the bar? Perhaps a Mediterranean Iced Tea? It’s very refreshing.”

  “Sounds delightful. Thank you.”

  As Colin left to go to the bar, Lindy turned her attention to the two young men. “My niece tells me you’ve been here a couple of weeks already. What have you seen so far?”

  “We were in Barcelona for almost a week,” Connor said. “It’s a fascinating city. We went to a couple of museums and spent some time on the beach there. Did a little clubb
ing. Then we took the bus to Valencia and worked our way the rest of the way down the coast.”

  “We took a sailboat out one day, and I got some beautiful photos of the coast,” Alan said. He held up a small camera and shrugged his shoulders. “Digital, I’m afraid.”

  “Aren’t they all now?” Lindy replied. Here they are in Europe, and they’re hanging at the beach, she thought. There’s so much to see and do, and they’re doing something they could have done in Florida.

  As if by a signal, the boys shoved their chairs back and got to their feet. Connor spoke for them. “We’ve gotta get going. We’re meeting some friends for dinner. It was nice to meet you both. Michelle, perhaps we’ll see you around tomorrow. Be sure to check out the artist’s alley in the market.”

  “I will,” Michelle answered, giving them a wave with the almost empty glass as they left.

  “Did I scare them off?”

  “Maybe. But the guys did have plans for the evening. They’d already told me as much. They met a couple of other students from Boston and made plans to go to a restaurant in the town. Of course, you kind of came on like the high inquisitor. You always put on this genteel southern lady veneer when you’re meeting people.”

  “No, I don’t.” Lindy regarded her niece with a tolerant smile. “I just wanted them to know you had someone watching out for you. You can never trust these boys on holiday. And sitting down with a stranger? What were you thinking?”

  “That we wanted to sit, and this guy was all by himself, and he seemed cool. There were three of us.”

  “Yes, you and two more strangers joining another stranger.”

  “You’re too suspicious of everyone, Aunt Lindy.”

  Lindy sighed, thinking of all the differences in the world there were now from when she was a twenty-something traveling across Europe with a friend. “It’s a more dangerous world than it used to be, darling. You need to be cautious of everyone, no matter how nice they seem.”

  “But if you don’t ever talk to anyone, how will you get to know them?”

  “Good question. I don’t know the answer, but I do know you have to be careful. Now, what was this about an artists’ alley?”

  “I was wondering if you caught that,” Michelle said with a sly look. “There’s a street in the market area where artists from all over Spain can display their paintings for sale. I think it’s likely Roberto has a stall of his artwork.”

  “I see. So, you’re hoping to meet the handsome Spanish boy again.”

  “Hey, he changed our tire. If he wanted to rob us, he could have done it easily on the highway.” Michelle’s eyes narrowed, defying her to deny it.

  “You’re right. Just don’t go imagining any romances. We won’t be here very long.”

  Colin returned with fresh drinks for them all to find the boys gone. “They left?”

  Michelle nodded. “Other plans.”

  He handed Lindy a tall refreshing-looking drink and passed an icy-looking cocktail to Michelle. “And a virgin margarita for the young lady.” Then he sat down with a tall drink for himself.

  “Tom Collins,” Lindy said.

  “Yes, indeed. My long-standing drink. So tell me about your work, Lindy.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, ready to listen.

  With his sunglasses still on, Lindy wondered about his eyes. What color they were, what shape? Did he have long eyelashes? He looked handsome, but the eyes were what really showed the spirit and soul of a person.

  She’d often talked about her work with strangers, friends, and students, but she didn’t want it to sound academic. “Well, Colin, I have always been an artist. From the time I picked up my first crayon and used my bedroom wall for a canvas, I’ve been drawing, mixing colors, and creating visionary fantasies. Thankfully, I had parents who nurtured my talent rather than stifling it. Given they were both more scientific than artistic, it was extraordinary. I started taking art classes when I was eight, and by the time I was twelve, I was doing commission work for portraits and landscapes. But I loved fantasy art, and for myself, I would create magical images of alien worlds, elf worlds, and spaceships. I displayed my paintings at science fiction conventions where people liked and bought them.”

  She paused to sip her drink. “I was lucky enough to have an established artist show interest in my work and direct me to an agent who handled book and poster art. By fifteen, I had done my first book cover for a series. One thing led to another, and I began to build a reputation and a demand for my art. After I graduated high school, I went to the Lyme Academy of Fine Art and got my degree, then studied in Paris for two years. By this time, I was well established and in demand for all kinds of custom art. But doing the book covers has always been special. And I love going to conventions still. Yes, there are now more book cover artists than there are ants on a watermelon, but you still need to know what you’re doing to create quality work. Do you find something similar in your line of work?”

  “Some, yes. Some people are always looking for shortcuts and even come up with brilliant ways to do it, but don’t really understand why it has to be a certain way. Look, I have a couple of phone calls to make before it gets too late. Would you ladies honor me by having dinner with me tonight?”

  Taken a little off-guard, Lindy nonetheless responded with an affirmative answer for both of them. “We would be delighted.”

  “Excellent,” Colin answered as he got to his feet. “Meet me in the lobby at seven-thirty, and we can take a cab to the best authentic Spanish restaurant in town.” He nodded at them and smiled before he strolled off.

  “Thanks for asking me if I wanted to go,” Michelle said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

  “Of course you want to go. What else would you do? Go looking for more stray young men?”

  Michelle’s eyes blazed, but her aunt was oblivious as she picked up her reader and her drink glass before starting back to their suite.

  Chapter 2

  The Plaza de los Naranjos, known in English as Orange Tree Square, overflowed with people, mostly tourists, who’d come to the popular city location for dinner, shopping, and maybe a little dancing. A grove of the fragrant citruses lined the central area where white-washed buildings, housing the City Hall, other municipal buildings, restaurants, and small shops, surrounded it. Among the trees and flower beds, tables and chairs covered by orange canopies provided seating for several sidewalk cafes.

  As Colin helped Lindy out of the cab, her eyes alighted on the magnificent Casa del Corregidor, a Renaissance-style palace, with splendid mustard-colored facades and wrought-iron balconies. “What magnificent,” she said, gasping as she spotted the sign over the door. “A restaurant? It’s now a restaurant?”

  “And a bar and shops. Nothing is sacred these days,” Colin told her as she admired the lines of the structure while he turned to assist Michelle. “It was built in 1552 as the mayor’s house, but finds new uses in modern Spain.” Then he pointed out the Ermita de Santiago, or the Hermitage of St. James, which was built before the end of the fifteenth century. “The plaza was actually constructed after these two buildings were erected, then the City Hall came along in 1568.”

  “This is wonderful,” Lindy said. “I must explore it in daylight. I love studying the lines of these old buildings. This would be a delight to paint. Have you ever used it in a movie, Colin?”

  “No, but I am looking at it. The problem, of course, is it’s always filled with people. It makes filming difficult.” He hurried them along to the right side of the square toward the indoor restaurants.

  While both women had dressed in cool summer floral dresses, Lindy wore a rose-colored silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders for a little extra warmth. They looked elegant but not too dressy as they rubbed shoulders with girls in tank tops and shorts on the plaza. Although Colin had kept the beige slacks, he sported a casual lightweight short-sleeved cotton shirt.

  He led them to a doorway behind one of the open restaurants where a waiter motioned to them to come to t
he available tables there. As he shook his head at the man, Colin ushered them through the door and up the stairs to the small but elegant restaurant, which overflowed with diners and a waiting line snaked to one side.

  “I think we may have a long wait,” Lindy said as she looked to see if there were any empty tables.

  “Wait here.” Colin gave her arm a light touch, then crossed to the host and spoke to him.

  Most of the places were set for couples, and the tables were not big enough for three people. But she did glimpse a set-up of two tables together at the side near the balcony where another table for two was positioned.

  Colin came back to catch her hand. “Follow me.” He led them to the pushed together tables. “A reservation is a necessity here.”

  “A man who plans ahead, I like it.” Lindy flashed a charming smile at him. Now, in the light slipping through the window in the restaurant, she could see his hazel eyes, a light green shade on the iris rims with golden brown flakes in the middle. His eyes showed so much emotion when he talked animatedly or looked amused, such as now. As he blinked, the silky dark brown lashes covered the base of the lower lid. Very sexy, she decided.

  As soon as they were settled, the waiter brought glasses of water with orange slices in them and took their drink order, then advised them of the special of the day, the chef’s specialty paella. The description of the seafood and chicken extravaganza made her mouth water in anticipation. They discussed it for perhaps a whole thirty seconds before deciding to try it. For tapas, Colin suggested the Tortilla Espanola, a potato and egg dish, marinated olives, Serrano-ham wrapped plums, and the octopus salad.

  Michelle wrinkled her nose at the last suggestion. “Octopus? Really?”

  “Trust me, it’s delicious.”

  She shuddered at the prospect but agreed to at least try it.

  “You seem very familiar with this area,” Lindy said. “Do you come here often?”

  He tilted his head charmingly, then said, “My work brings me here at least once a year. I’m not always looking for locations, but sometimes I’m producing a show, and more than a few British actors have homes in this area.”