Read Online Santiago Sol by Niki Turner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Niki Turner
Tags: Christian fiction
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logged on to his computer and opened two browser tabs to begin simultaneous searches for Tansy Chastain and Eva St. John. He read until his eyes blurred with fatigue, then he yawned, stretched, and pushed the massive leather chair from the desk.
Everything Tansy had said about Eva was true. The woman was a saint in every sense of the word. And Tansy’s name had popped up on the bylines of half a dozen articles. She was a good writer. She would do well with Eva’s memoir.
His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the display. His grandfather. It was late for the old man to be calling. Sebastian tapped the button to take the call, hoping nothing was wrong. “Abuelo? Is everything all right?”
“Hmph. No. My grandson, my heir, is almost thirty years old. He is not married, and he has not found the walking stick his mother stole from our family. Everything is not all right.”
“I’m working on finding the walking stick, Abuelo.”
“So you’ve said. Are you working on finding a wife?”
Sebastian suppressed a groan. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“Diego tells me you are seeing an American woman. Do you plan to marry her?”
“Diego needs to keep his mouth shut,” Sebastian growled. “Anyway, I’m bringing her to meet you tomorrow, at the shop. Is that good enough?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before his grandfather answered. “You only bring the ones you think you’re serious about to meet me at Los Dominicos. Now I’m curious.”
Sebastian clenched a fist. What had compelled him to offer to take Tansy to the artesanal ?
“I’ll be there tomorrow, as always, Sebastian, but I must remind you, your birthday is this week. I want you to take over Sandoval Industries, but you must be willing to fulfill the family traditions, not continually kick against them.”
“It’s not a matter of being willing.” Even as the words left his lips, Sebastian’s conscience poked him. He loathed his grandfather’s obsession with dried-up, useless traditions.
“I expect a bride on your arm and the walking stick in my hand at your birthday party.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but his grandfather had already ended the call.
He pressed his palms against his eyes. In the last year, with the walking stick still missing and Sebastian still unmarried, he had fallen from his grandfather’s good graces. The descent had been excruciating. Eduardo Sandoval had been grandfather, father, mentor, and friend for as long as Sebastian could remember. He’d felt the subtle shift in their relationship as he would have felt a death.
He stood and turned to look out the window. During the day he enjoyed an unparalleled view of Cerro San Cristóbal and the gleaming white statue of the blessed Virgin. The view—day or night—often soothed him, but tonight he was agitated.
He could have provided the old man with a daughter-in-law and a few grandchildren by now if he’d been willing to marry without love. But he wouldn’t sacrifice the possibility, however slim, of finding the love of a lifetime.
As for the walking stick, his repeated searches had failed to unearth so much as a splinter of the prized heirloom. That Eva St. John’s home had been one more dead end discouraged Sebastian, even if it hadn’t been his idea to search there. He grimaced.
Ben would tell him to pray, to petition God’s help to locate his grandfather’s precious treasure, but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to ask God to rectify his mother’s offense.
A siren somewhere penetrated the glass barrier that separated him from the rest of the city. He listened to the shrill noise heralding some human trauma, then left his office, shoulders hunched under the familiar weight of familial responsibility and his fear of failure.
7
Tansy snapped awake at the first hint of dawn creeping through the curtains. Her skin flushed hot with the memory of their almost-kiss. “Stop it, Tansy,” she said aloud. “This isn’t
Everything Tansy had said about Eva was true. The woman was a saint in every sense of the word. And Tansy’s name had popped up on the bylines of half a dozen articles. She was a good writer. She would do well with Eva’s memoir.
His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the display. His grandfather. It was late for the old man to be calling. Sebastian tapped the button to take the call, hoping nothing was wrong. “Abuelo? Is everything all right?”
“Hmph. No. My grandson, my heir, is almost thirty years old. He is not married, and he has not found the walking stick his mother stole from our family. Everything is not all right.”
“I’m working on finding the walking stick, Abuelo.”
“So you’ve said. Are you working on finding a wife?”
Sebastian suppressed a groan. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“Diego tells me you are seeing an American woman. Do you plan to marry her?”
“Diego needs to keep his mouth shut,” Sebastian growled. “Anyway, I’m bringing her to meet you tomorrow, at the shop. Is that good enough?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before his grandfather answered. “You only bring the ones you think you’re serious about to meet me at Los Dominicos. Now I’m curious.”
Sebastian clenched a fist. What had compelled him to offer to take Tansy to the artesanal ?
“I’ll be there tomorrow, as always, Sebastian, but I must remind you, your birthday is this week. I want you to take over Sandoval Industries, but you must be willing to fulfill the family traditions, not continually kick against them.”
“It’s not a matter of being willing.” Even as the words left his lips, Sebastian’s conscience poked him. He loathed his grandfather’s obsession with dried-up, useless traditions.
“I expect a bride on your arm and the walking stick in my hand at your birthday party.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but his grandfather had already ended the call.
He pressed his palms against his eyes. In the last year, with the walking stick still missing and Sebastian still unmarried, he had fallen from his grandfather’s good graces. The descent had been excruciating. Eduardo Sandoval had been grandfather, father, mentor, and friend for as long as Sebastian could remember. He’d felt the subtle shift in their relationship as he would have felt a death.
He stood and turned to look out the window. During the day he enjoyed an unparalleled view of Cerro San Cristóbal and the gleaming white statue of the blessed Virgin. The view—day or night—often soothed him, but tonight he was agitated.
He could have provided the old man with a daughter-in-law and a few grandchildren by now if he’d been willing to marry without love. But he wouldn’t sacrifice the possibility, however slim, of finding the love of a lifetime.
As for the walking stick, his repeated searches had failed to unearth so much as a splinter of the prized heirloom. That Eva St. John’s home had been one more dead end discouraged Sebastian, even if it hadn’t been his idea to search there. He grimaced.
Ben would tell him to pray, to petition God’s help to locate his grandfather’s precious treasure, but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to ask God to rectify his mother’s offense.
A siren somewhere penetrated the glass barrier that separated him from the rest of the city. He listened to the shrill noise heralding some human trauma, then left his office, shoulders hunched under the familiar weight of familial responsibility and his fear of failure.
7
Tansy snapped awake at the first hint of dawn creeping through the curtains. Her skin flushed hot with the memory of their almost-kiss. “Stop it, Tansy,” she said aloud. “This isn’t
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