“Isabel,” Emily said as they walked past, pausing at her table. “What a nice surprise.”
“Isn’t it, though,” Isabel remarked.
“Delia, you remember Isabel, don’t you?” Emily watched Delia’s eyes for any signs of discomfort at being in Jethro’s presence.
“Yes, of course. How nice to see you again, Isabel.”
“And this is my friend. We call him Jethro.” Isabel looked at him, then her gaze went to Delia. “Jethro, this is Delia McCall.”
Emily picked up on Isabel doing the same thing she was, watching for any signs of recognition in Jetho’s expression. Emily noticed a slight flash of recognition in Delia’s dark eyes, but when she glanced at Jethro, he was controlled and unflinching.
Delia put her hand out and he shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jethro.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. McCall.”
If there was surprise in his eyes, Emily missed it. It could be simply a coincidence they both had the name Banderas. Not every person who has the same last name is related to one another, Emily had to admit. However, if they did turn out to be father and daughter, or related in some way as suspected, there had to be a reason why they worked at keeping their relationship secret. She was anxious to get Isabel’s read on their interaction.
“It was nice to see you too, Emily,” Jethro uttered as the women walked away. Emily chose not to reply, acting as if she hadn’t heard him. The very sight of him brought visions of the man peeking into her windows, and likely being the person who had been breaking in, so it was all she could do to bite her tongue and not tear into him over it. When she had hatched the plan to invite Delia to lunch to monitor her response to him, she hadn’t counted on her own intense reaction.
“You know that man, too?” Delia leaned forward and whispered, taking her seat at the next table, facing toward Jethro.
Emily nodded casually, back to back with Isabel. She picked up her menu and began reading it, not wanting to give away her true feelings. Her cheeks grew hot and the blood pounded in her head sitting this close to her possible stalker. She hoped the heat had not turned her cheeks red. “Let’s see what’s on the menu. I’m starved.”
CHAPTER 10
Emily undid the plastic wrap on the baby back ribs she had brought home from Goodwood for her welcome-home dinner for Colin. She figured she could do an adequate job of baking the potatoes and making a green salad herself, but she knew that man loved his ribs. She rewrapped them tightly in foil and set them in the oven at a low temperature to stay warm.
She had borrowed a box overflowing with strings of white twinkle lights from Camille and strung them around the deck and the garden. This was the first time she had invited anyone out into her backyard since Evan’s death. Until now, she couldn’t bear to be out there in the garden they had designed together, planted together, and lovingly tended together. A beautiful white gazebo sat at the end of the garden, the gazebo that Evan had built for her as a wedding anniversary gift one year.
When Evan was killed, she could not bring herself to spend time out there anymore. It brought back too many painful memories. She had hired out the care and maintenance of the lawn and the flowering bushes and trees. For the past year, it had been meticulously maintained by The Green Thumb, but no one except the landscaper ever took the opportunity to enjoy it.
A couple of hours earlier, Colin had phoned to let her know when he thought he’d be there. After stopping by his apartment for a quick shower, he promised to rush over to her house. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, he had said.
As she dashed around her house, finalizing last-minute preparations before dressing for dinner, Emily daydreamed about her man walking through the door and sweeping her up in his arms. Thoughts of everything else going on in her life would have to be put on hold. She wanted this evening to be perfect.
She pushed open the kitchen window over the sink to let the cool fresh air into the bungalow before assembling the salad and storing it in the refrigerator. She had already scrubbed a couple of plump baking potatoes, rubbed them with olive oil and sprinkled coarse salt on the outside before setting