When the Wind Chimes - Mary Ting Page 0,46

wonderful. You have someone to talk about it with.” He chuckled.

His ears must be full of unicorn talk daily.

“Can I invite Kate, too? I’m going to invite Tyler.”

My cheeks heated. I didn’t want Leonardo to be put on the spot.

“Sure, If Miss Sum—”

I cleared my throat. “Kate.”

“Kate.” He nodded my way after he corrected himself. “Has time. I’m sure she’s busy, but no pressure.”

“I’ll see, but I don’t know if I’ll be around.” I rolled up the soft tortilla.

“Oh?” Leonardo set down his wine glass with a light clink.

“I don’t live in Kauai. I’m here for the holidays with family. Unless I find a job I can’t live without, I’ll have to go back to Los Angeles.”

“I see.” Leonardo made another taco for himself—this time with a hard shell.

“Did you bring me something from work?” Bridget asked her dad with a mouthful.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Leonardo reached inside his front pocket and handed something to Bridget.

“It’s beautiful.” Bridget held up a magnet to show me—The Hollywood sign that had I Love LA on it.

“You were in Los Angeles?” I asked.

“Yes. I went to wrap up a business deal. My client bought a hotel in Santa Monica overlooking the ocean.”

I could only imagine how much that cost. I wondered if that mysterious woman was the buyer who’d had her hand on his shoulder. I shook that thought away. None of my business.

“I don’t know much about your company. Do you deal with only large properties?”

Leonardo wiped his mouth with a napkin before he spoke. “We have several sub-brands. We sell houses, apartments, commercial buildings, and land. My role is more executive oversight but I handle the clients that request me specifically.”

Like that woman. Again, none of my business.

“Medici Real Estate Holdings belongs to your parents?”

I wanted to take the question back. It came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. It was an innocent question, but I didn’t want him to think I was fishing for information on his finances.

“Partially.” He crossed his arms on the table and gave me his full attention. “My parents started the business, but they’re retired. It’s in my hands now.” Leonardo poured more wine for me and then refilled his, all the while eyeing me suspiciously. “Are you interested in becoming a real estate agent?”

“Oh, no.” I finished chewing and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I’m a graphic designer, but if I could paint all day I would.”

“Then why don’t you?” Leonardo folded his hands, his elbows on the table.

“Painting doesn’t provide a steady income.”

“Well, an art piece is subjective. What one thinks is junk, another thinks is treasure. Your sister is a painter too. What an artistic family. Your parents paint as well?”

“My father is an accountant and my mother is a teacher. My mother painted, but more as a hobby. She’s really good, though. She was the reason Abby and I got into art. We loved watching her paint and going to galleries when we were young. We both went to USC to study art.”

“Oh yeah?” He added beef to a tortilla. “Great college.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Any more siblings?”

“Nope. Just me and my sister. How about you?”

“I have a younger brother, who has been absent for a while. But that’s a story for another day.” He took a big bite that closed the subject firmly.

We chewed quietly for a few moments. Bridget pushed some tomatoes around her plate.

“You have a lot of art pieces in your house,” I said. “You have an eye for it.”

“I took lessons for a little while, but I’m not good at it. Besides, I don’t have time for hobbies.”

That piqued my interest, but again I didn’t ask for details. Instead, I thought about my painting hanging in his bedroom.

“I was wondering why you bought the painting in your bedroom?” I handed Bridget a napkin.

He stiffened and his eyes darkened. I shrank in my seat. Had I said something wrong?

Bridget, who had been patient and glancing between Leonardo and me during our conversation, said, “Mona doesn’t let anyone in Papa’s room.”

I flushed with mortification. I had to think of something fast. “Mona gave me a quick tour when I interviewed and I forgot. I’m sorry if—”

“It’s fine.” He offered a tightlipped grin. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

My heart regained a steadier beat, and silence took over when Leonardo checked his phone and texted someone.

“I’m finished with dinner. I’m going to put this magnet away.” Bridget got out of her seat and