Read Online The Bachelor and the Beauty Queen by Carolyn Hector - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn Hector
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business. As part of the Torres family through his mother, they were all subject to gossip. A major perk to living in Berkeley Lake was that he barely saw his neighbors. In Villa San Juan, you couldnât turn a corner without hitting a Torres.
Stephen reached for the set of keys, delivered to him yesterday, in the front pocket of his dark gray slacks. Despite the stares, the town truly was picturesque and moved him to the memory of when he first got excited about scouting out locations. Heâd been about eighteen at the time and visiting his grandparents in Puerto Rico when he met an ambitious producer by the name of Christopher Kelly. Christopher wanted to impress his TV studio executive mother with hidden vacation spots, and Stephen, knowing all the beautiful hideaways not on the maps, was the right man for the job. After the success of his travel show for Multi Ethnic Television, also known as MET, people sought out Stephenâs services. Using his shoulder, Stephen pushed against the wood frame of the door still bearing the name Divinity Bakery etched into the glass. Mounds of old newspapers nearly tripped him; dust floating through the beams of sunlight triggered a sneezing attack. The first thing he needed to do was start cleaning. The black-and-white tiled floor needed to go. Stephen preferred hardwood floors and office privacy. The only closed area so far was through the double doors leading to what he presumed was the kitchen, if he didnât count the short hallway to the left of the closed-off kitchen. Though the electricity was out, making it hard to confirm, Stephen bet the two closed doors down the dark hallway were bathrooms marked with the universal symbols.
Over the years Stephen had built a reputation people trusted and a knack of anticipating the trends in the real estate market. As a broker, he sold dreams. He sold extravagant homes to rich people who had money to spare and he sold homes to producers and directors in the film industry, who wanted authentic locations. At the high end of his real estate business, Stephen found exact replicas of movie mansions for wealthy people. Perhaps he had his mother to thank for his affinity for old movies because he had developed a keen eye for those types of homes.
Out of the three children Elizabeth Torres Reyes had raised, Stephen was the only one who managed to sit still without fidgeting through one of her beloved classic movies. Stephen never minded the rich films, which ended up helping him later in life, whether it was the dancing in Black Orpheus , the satire in Luis Buñuelâs Viridiana , or the understanding of differences in the architectural structures from the American classic Gone with the Wind . Over the years heâd found replicas of homes like Tara, the seaside house from Practical Magic , the Victorian home from Meet Me in St. Louis , as well as colonial and Georgian houses from Father of the Bride and Home Alone .
For all his experience, Stephen lacked the ability to decorate the interiors of houses. He could find a home but couldnât put anything inside. He stood in the darkened room with his hands on his hips, knowing he needed Nateâs expertise on where to construct walls. Stephen sighed and reached for his phone. There was nothing he could do right now without power.
Stephen lifted his phone in the air in an attempt to gain a bar. This morning Philly had played her favorite candy game on his device, but surely not enough to drain his battery. Light shone through the boarded-up windows of the bakery. With little effort, Stephen yanked a few of the boards and tossed them to the floor. He used his phone to snap a few pictures from each corner of the room. The icon for its battery was full and raring to go, but the internet connection said quite the opposite. He cringed at the thought of needing dial-up. In hopes of getting a better connection, Stephen stepped toward the door and held his phone toward the sun. A screen
Stephen reached for the set of keys, delivered to him yesterday, in the front pocket of his dark gray slacks. Despite the stares, the town truly was picturesque and moved him to the memory of when he first got excited about scouting out locations. Heâd been about eighteen at the time and visiting his grandparents in Puerto Rico when he met an ambitious producer by the name of Christopher Kelly. Christopher wanted to impress his TV studio executive mother with hidden vacation spots, and Stephen, knowing all the beautiful hideaways not on the maps, was the right man for the job. After the success of his travel show for Multi Ethnic Television, also known as MET, people sought out Stephenâs services. Using his shoulder, Stephen pushed against the wood frame of the door still bearing the name Divinity Bakery etched into the glass. Mounds of old newspapers nearly tripped him; dust floating through the beams of sunlight triggered a sneezing attack. The first thing he needed to do was start cleaning. The black-and-white tiled floor needed to go. Stephen preferred hardwood floors and office privacy. The only closed area so far was through the double doors leading to what he presumed was the kitchen, if he didnât count the short hallway to the left of the closed-off kitchen. Though the electricity was out, making it hard to confirm, Stephen bet the two closed doors down the dark hallway were bathrooms marked with the universal symbols.
Over the years Stephen had built a reputation people trusted and a knack of anticipating the trends in the real estate market. As a broker, he sold dreams. He sold extravagant homes to rich people who had money to spare and he sold homes to producers and directors in the film industry, who wanted authentic locations. At the high end of his real estate business, Stephen found exact replicas of movie mansions for wealthy people. Perhaps he had his mother to thank for his affinity for old movies because he had developed a keen eye for those types of homes.
Out of the three children Elizabeth Torres Reyes had raised, Stephen was the only one who managed to sit still without fidgeting through one of her beloved classic movies. Stephen never minded the rich films, which ended up helping him later in life, whether it was the dancing in Black Orpheus , the satire in Luis Buñuelâs Viridiana , or the understanding of differences in the architectural structures from the American classic Gone with the Wind . Over the years heâd found replicas of homes like Tara, the seaside house from Practical Magic , the Victorian home from Meet Me in St. Louis , as well as colonial and Georgian houses from Father of the Bride and Home Alone .
For all his experience, Stephen lacked the ability to decorate the interiors of houses. He could find a home but couldnât put anything inside. He stood in the darkened room with his hands on his hips, knowing he needed Nateâs expertise on where to construct walls. Stephen sighed and reached for his phone. There was nothing he could do right now without power.
Stephen lifted his phone in the air in an attempt to gain a bar. This morning Philly had played her favorite candy game on his device, but surely not enough to drain his battery. Light shone through the boarded-up windows of the bakery. With little effort, Stephen yanked a few of the boards and tossed them to the floor. He used his phone to snap a few pictures from each corner of the room. The icon for its battery was full and raring to go, but the internet connection said quite the opposite. He cringed at the thought of needing dial-up. In hopes of getting a better connection, Stephen stepped toward the door and held his phone toward the sun. A screen
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