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HOT PIECE OF ASH
MILLY TAIDEN
 CONTENTS

Hot Piece of Ash

About the Book

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue

The Daeria World

The Crystal Kingdom Series
About the Author
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
Also by Milly Taiden
HOT PIECE OF ASH
 PARANORMAL DATING AGENCY

NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

MILLY TAIDEN
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or
have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

Published By
Latin Goddess Press
Winter Springs, FL 32708
http://millytaiden.com
Hot Piece of Ash
Copyright © 2020 by Milly Taiden
Edited by: Tina Winograd
Edited by: Sheri Lyn
Proofed: Jane D.
Cover: Willsin Rowe
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
Property of Milly Taiden
August 2020

Created with Vellum

 ABOUT THE BOOK

When Valentina Lombardi jokingly asks Gerri Wilder to hook her up

with a sexy man or two, she doesn’t expect for Gerri to make it
happen. Boy, does she deliver. In the warm beaches of Costa Bonita,
Valentina is romanced by two gorgeous men. She can’t possibly date
them both at the same time, can she? It’s wrong. It’s dirty. It’s
what’s gonna happen.

Ash Jonz and Smoke Price need a mate to complete their triad and
renew their island’s magic or their clan could be wiped out. When
curvy, shy Valentina shows up, they know she’s the one. They want
to keep her, mate her, and cement their marks on her. But how will
she react to knowing they’re planning on sharing her. At the same
time.

Fire Mountain’s in trouble. The volcano’s spewing steam that scares

the islanders, and if Ash and Smoke don’t finalize their triad, the
whole island could blow. That’s the least of their worries when one
of their own decides they don’t want Valentina getting in their way.

Alpha and beta need to find their mate before she’s sacrificed for a
pirate’s treasure.
 —For my girl Valentina,

Your amazing personality and professionalism during our trip made

our stay unforgettable and gave us a new friend. I hope that you
can also find your true mate to give you your happily ever alpha.
 CHAPTER ONE

Gerri leaned against a tree outside the local animal shelter

observing families and listening to the happy screams of children as
overzealous puppies licked ice cream from their messy young faces.
This was one of her favorite charity events every year. Watching
the kids’ eyes light up when they see the pet, they’ve been dreaming
of their whole lives brought a tear to her eye and joy to her heart.
This year’s adoption outing would be just as emotional. Times
like this had her wanting to adopt every animal in the shelter, but
her lifestyle wouldn’t allow for that. Not with her zipping back and
forth between planets and her apartment, which she had just
remodeled in all-white.
A microphone screech from closer to the building grabbed her
attention. A young woman tapped the mic head making a loud thud,
thud. After an adjustment, the woman stood in front of the crowd
and smiled. Gerri’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the familiar face.
She was the same person who coordinated the event last year.
Gerri would never forget such a big-hearted human. The young
woman had to be late twenties or early thirties. Perfect age. She was
just growing into her career and knew where she wanted to go in
life. Gerri wondered if this was the path the girl truly desired.
“Welcome everyone to our annual adoption charity.” Her voice
rang out crisp and clear. She was confident and sure even though
the way she covered up her curvy body said she might be self-
conscious about how others saw her. If she wasn’t already
comfortable in her skin, she would soon learn to be. “I’m Valentina
Lombardi, and I would like to thank you for coming out to find your
new family member.”
A small white flash zipped in front of Gerri’s feet. Following that
blur was a running teenager bent over with arms extended. She
heard him whisper, “Get back here, you furry butt.” Yes, he needed
to catch the rabbit before it reached the dogs’ section. What a riot
that would be to see twenty dogs chase a scared-shitless bunny
around the parking lot. And then all the handlers chasing after the
dogs.
Gerri shook her head with a smile and turned her attention back
to Valentina. The hostess had stepped to a large wire cage that had
a log and foliage inside. Valentina put her hand on the wire cage. “I
would like to introduce everyone to our most recent addition. Larry.”
The girl opened the top hatch and stuck her hand inside.
Immediately a dark critter with a slender body and long tail raced up
her arm to her shoulder, poked its nose around the back of her neck
through her thick brown hair to peek out on her other shoulder. She
leaned forward a bit.
“This is Larry the Lizard.” She rubbed a finger over its head.
“Larry, say hi to the audience.” The lizard whipped out its serpentine
tongue and sucked it back in. “Larry, that wasn’t very nice. You’re
not supposed to stick your tongue out at people.” The group
chuckled.
Gerri was shocked by how comfortable the woman was with a
three-foot-long reptile hanging on her shoulders. Not a typical scene
by any means. She wondered…
After the short presentation, the animal meet and greet
continued. Gerri made a beeline for Valentina. She had to know
more about this woman.
“Excuse me,” Gerri said, standing behind Valentina as she put
Larry back into his cage.
Valentina turned and gasped, putting a hand on her chest. “Ms.
Wilder, oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you.” She grabbed Gerri’s
hand and shook it. Gerri was almost as shocked as the girl at being
identified by the stranger.
 “I’m sorry,” Valentina replied. “I know you from our newsletters
that have the photos of our larger donors. You are our biggest, and I
can’t thank you enough for how you’ve helped so many animals.”
Gerri smiled. “Beasts of all kinds share a space in my heart.”
And she did mean “beasts”—shifters, of course. She smiled to
herself.
“I agree,” Valentina said. “There’s just something about them
that allows them to see through the physical image and straight into
your soul.” She rubbed her skin. “None of that matters. It’s what’s in
here.” She tapped a fist over her heart. “Unconditional love.” She
sighed.
Hmm. “Hard-core romantic?” Gerri asked.
“Till the end. All I read are romance stories where love always
wins, no matter what was thrown at them.” Valentina slipped her
hands into her pockets and looked down. “It would be so nice to
experience that kind of love.”
“No significant other?” Always PC and all that shit, that was
Gerri.
Valentina shook her head. “Most men don’t take the time, or
even want to get past the first glance. I’m not exactly a size two.
Plus, what you see isn’t always what you get.”
Gerri frowned. This was not the same woman with the
microphone who’d humored a crowd and was so sure of herself.
What had changed?
“You’re good in the spotlight,” Gerri said. “You looked great, and
your smile’s beautiful.”
Valentina dipped her head, embarrassment floating from her.
“Uh, thank you.” She poked at a piece of grass with her sandal. Gerri
wondered if she was dealing with a split personality. Night and day
with this woman. “But it’s all an act,” she continued quietly.
“An act?”
Valentina shrugged, keeping eyes lowered. “When I have to do
things like this, which is often, I pretend to be somebody else.
Somebody outgoing and fun. Somebody who looks confident and
comfortable.”
 Gerri was shocked. She scooped up Valentina’s hands and
leaned in close. “You listen to me,” Gerri said in a whisper, “you are
not pretending on that stage. That confident woman is you. You just
have to convince yourself of that.”
Valentina nodded, her eyes turning shiny. “Well, you know…”
She let out a big breath.
Gerri had to help this woman see who she was. But what could
she do?
“What was your college degree in?” Gerri asked. Maybe there
would be an opportunity there.
Valentina laughed. “Believe it or not, public relations and
advertising.”
“Well,” Gerri replied, “you certainly chose a profession that
requires lots of exposure and networking.”
“Don’t I know it,” Valentina mumbled.
“Do you not want to do PR or advertising?”
“No, I do. I love the creativeness and using my brain to be more
inventive and fun. It’s just the people part of it I can do without. If I
could work behind a desk with just a computer, I’d be happy.”
“How do you expect to find the love of your life from behind a
desk?” Gerri asked.
Valentina shrugged. “I really don’t expect to find Mr. Right. It
would be ideal to find a man that tells me he loves me. I don’t know
that I’ll ever hear those words. I’ve had poor luck with getting a man
to say them. People stay telling me that beggars can’t be choosers.
But if you can find me a good man or two, I would be more than
willing to go on a blind date.” She gave a short nervous laugh while
wringing her hands together. “I’m kidding.”
Gerri was flabbergasted at the woman’s poor outlook on her life.
How beaten down did someone have to be, to believe such
negativity?, That just wouldn’t do. Gerri now had her own adoption
case to take charge of.
Gerri glanced at her watch. She had a meeting with a new client
in half an hour. “Well, darling, I need to hurry along.” She pulled an
envelope from her purse. “Since I’m not able to adopt, I’m donating
to the society to use however they want.”
 Valentina took the packet and stared at it. “Thank you so much,
Ms. Wilder. People like you remind me that there is still good in the
world.”
Gerri squeezed her arm with a smile. “I’ll be in touch. Good luck
with placing all the animals.”
When Gerri stepped away, she saw a ragged young man with
his shirt halfway out of his pants, hair a wild mess, grass stain on his
knees, and scrapes on both elbows. But he wore a massive smile as
he carried a white bunny in his arms.
 CHAPTER TWO

From the resort’s white sugar beach, Ash picked up a dead frond
from the tropical palm tree. It was limp in his hand, draping down
like a broken wing. Several more leaves were showing signs of a
slow death. Never in the years that he had lived on the island—as a
whelp, then again as a mature dragon—had he seen one of their
palm trees die that way. They had gone through hurricanes and
severe storms which had destroyed plant life, but this was different.
Nothing died on Costa Bonita. The forest had always been lush
with plant life. Now the trees had dropped their leaves as if winter
had arrived. Even the white beaches had begun to look dingy.
A slight vibration rattled through his shoes and up through his
legs. A rumble that he instinctively knew was deep underground
shook him. He craned his neck around to check on the inactive
volcano.
Steam rolled over the top of the crater, like vapor from a witch’s
cauldron. He wasn’t too concerned. It had happened before they
hired his sister to work on the island. After she’d arrived, the steam
had stopped, no rhyme or reason. Why was it doing it again? Why
was their tropical paradise going to shit?
Even though the sun had been up for several hours, only a few
tourists had made their way to the beach. Now, they all stood
pointing at the resurrected mountain on the island. Dammit, that
was the last thing they needed. For some reason, the number of
visitors had been down the previous month. Neither he nor his beta
had a clue why.
He stomped his way over the brown patches of grass to the
resort’s office. Smoke had better be there, or this alpha was going to
go batshit crazy on his beta. The man had never grown out of his
childish stage of life. How he managed to do his duties so well was
beyond him.
“Morning, Isa,” he managed to grumble, passing the human
who had worked there longer than he and Smoke. The first time he
walked by her without saying good morning was the last. Isadora
had followed him into his office and proceeded to chew him another
hole. She was like a mother to them so she had no qualms telling
either of them off. This resort was known for its happy employees,
including the alpha and beta.
“Wonderful morning to you, Ash,” she called out. He stormed
through the doorway and past her desk. His mood lifted a bit from
her aura of positivity.
Surprisingly, Smoke was at his desk and working on the
computer with his keyboard pulled out from under the desktop.
Ash plopped into the upholstered chair across from Smoke and
sighed. The view out the picture window behind the desk was
beautiful. The forest filled the sight with the mountain in the far
background. The steam he had seen earlier was no longer there.
When Smoke didn’t even look at him, he grumbled in his chest.
“Just a minute,” Smoke said, “I’ve never made it past this level,
and I’m close to dying.”
What the hell? Ash reached out, spinning the monitor around to
see an animated computer game.
“Hey,” Smoke growled, “I can’t see it.” His hands came from
under the desk to reveal a game controller in his hand. And Ash
thought he was actually working. He wanted to throttle the dragon.
“Dammit,” Smoke said, jerking the computer back. “If I die—” After
punching a button several times, he dropped the controller with a
clunk. “I could’ve made it if you hadn’t interfered.”
“Smoke, we have a problem we need to figure out.”
 “What problem could there possibly be on an enchanted
paradise island?” Smoke sat back in his chair, his brows raised.
“Haven’t you noticed any changes?” Ash asked, trying not to
grind his teeth. If his beta was clueless, then he would…
“I have,” Smoke replied, shocking him. “The coral in the cove is
dying. The colors used to be vibrant but are dull and ashen now.
And the variety of fish aren’t there. Plus, fewer females are coming
to the island.”
Ash rolled his eyes. He hated being antsy over everything that
had to do with the island. His beta always talked about females, but
when it came down to it, he barely talked to the opposite gender. He
wondered if Smoke was hiding a shy side. He almost laughed.
Smoke and shy didn’t go in the same sentence.
Smoke continued. “I think we need to hire a new PR person.
Someone to drum up business and let others know there’s a place
other than the Virgin Islands to visit. And we’re ten times better.”
Maybe his beta did know what was going on.
“A new PR person is a good idea. Ever since Noelle moved we
haven’t really addressed that position,” Ash stood and paced, unable
to sit still. “We could use a new brochure. Maybe increase our online
presence.”
“Great,” Smoke said, “how do we go about finding this guy?
Headhunter?”
“Whoa,” Ash held up his hands. “Not so fast. Other things are
more important right now.”
Smoke’s brows pinched. “Like what?”
A vibration ran through Ash’s body.
“What the hell is that?” Smoke jumped to his feet. “This is the
second time.”
“Turn around,” Ash told Smoke.
“Why?” Smoke slowly faced the window. “Fuck. Do we need to
evacuate the island?” He whipped his head back to Ash. “Wait. Stuff
like this doesn’t happen here. Why is the island suddenly falling
apart?”
“Excuse me.” Both men turned to see Isadora at the doorway. “I
couldn’t help but overhear what you are talking about, with the door
open and all.”
Ash smiled. “It’s fine, Isa. Please, come in.” The older woman
took the second chair, and Ash sat beside her.
She glanced at both men. Ash waited for what she had to share
with them.
She smiled. “Are you two serious about not knowing what’s
happening to the island?”
Ash glanced at his beta, who shrugged and shook his head. In
unison, they said, “Yes.”
Isa’s eyes widened. “Your parents didn’t tell you how the island’s
magic worked?”
“Island’s magic?” Smoke questioned.
Ash searched his memory banks. “I remember something from
a long time ago. Mom said the magic was related to the alpha and
beta, and I didn’t have to worry about anything until it was my
time.” That conversation came back to him. He was kid at that time
and hadn’t paid much attention to the older people, including that
conversation. He had been too busy trying to be leader among his
friends.
“Anything else?” Isadora prompted.
“Yeah,” Ash said, “there was a lot of that talk when I was a kid.”
Isadora sighed and rolled her eyes. “Of course, there was.” She
shook her head, and Ash heard her mumble something about men
and paying attention. “As the story goes, your ancestors fled the
European continent during the early medieval times to escape the
slaughter of dragons.
“They landed here as the volcano had just erupted, and they
needed a place to incubate the eggs about to be born. Of course, at
that time, the Caribbean wasn’t the Caribbean we know today. Back
then it was only the indigenous groups.” She waved a hand in the
air. “You know the rest of that story, but what you’ve forgotten is
that your kind has been here so long that your magic has seeped
into the ground.”
Smoke’s eyes opened wide. “You mean the island’s taking our
powers?”
 “Seriously?” Ash wanted to slap Smoke up the back of the head.
“No,” Ash grumbled. “It means that our magic has soaked into the
island itself, and it’s what is keeping everything so perfect here.”
That made complete sense to him. He hadn’t thought about it much,
since the whole Caribbean was pretty much ideal in climate and
amenities. But Costa Bonita had always been a step better than any
other place.
From the corner of his eye, he caught his beta winking at their
assistant to make her blush. He held in his sigh. That was typical of
his second-in-command. Always trying to make the ladies smile and
irritating the hell out of him—on purpose.
“Pardon me, Ash,” Smoke said, putting on an air of royalty. “You
are correct. I had forgotten those particulars.”
“Liar.”
Both Isa and his beta laughed at his seriousness. He agreed
that sometimes he was over the top when it came to worrying about
things. He couldn’t help it. That was a natural thing for an alpha. His
father was the same way. Fortunately, his mom—his Dad’s true mate
—had been the perfect match to keep him from losing his shit
completely.
“So, Isa,” Ash said, “what does that have t to do with anything
right now?”
“It means dear boy, the island is tied to the well-being of the
clan,” she replied.
Ash glanced at Smoke, wondering if they, or he, was out of
touch with his people. No one was sick or dying. Everyone seemed
happy and comfortable.
“More specifically,” Isadora continued, “the alpha triad.”
“Us,” both guys said.
“It’s time for you two to find your mate. From what I know,
you’re a triad and need a third. Without her, you are not complete,
and the magic is suffering.” Isadora wrung her hands together. “And
by the way, the magic is losing control over the island’s natural
inclinations, you better find her fast.”
 CHAPTER THREE

Later that afternoon, Ash couldn’t get the issue out of his mind.
“We need a mate,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his
neck. “If we plan on helping our people survive and keeping the
island alive, this takes priority.” Were they a true triad? How would
they know? Would their dragons tell them?
He knew he and Smoke were an alpha and beta team but did
that extend to everything else? There hadn’t been a trio in hundreds
of years. A while back when they had traveled the world they had
happily shared women. Once they’d come home, they’d chosen to
do their own thing separately.
Smoke nodded grimly from his seat in their office at their resort
on Fire Mountain. “I know. I’m sorry, Ash. Things wouldn’t have
gotten this bad if I hadn’t been so focused on rebuilding the town
after the storm.”
“It’s okay,” Ash shrugged. “I guess we just have to refocus now.
Figure out what to do.”
“We’ve had no luck,” Smoke told him, and glanced at his desk.
“Some friends told me of a matchmaker.”
Ash raised his brows, curious over what his beta was talking
about. “A matchmaker?”
“Yes. Like a paranormal matchmaker. Gerri Wilder. She runs the
PDA or Paranormal Dating Agency. She’s got a 100 percent success
rate and has found mates for even the hardest of shifters,” Smoke’s
voice became enthusiastic as he spoke. “Maybe we should call and
give her a try.”
Ash frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve never known any matchmaker
that can help in our type of situation. We might be better off doing
this ourselves.”
“Yeah, how’s that worked so far?” Smoke met his gaze. “We
need help. We have to try. Our people will dwindle if we don’t find
our mate.”
Ash growled and slammed a hand on the desk. “Why do we
have to be cursed!”
Smoke stood and grabbed him by the arm. “Bro, we’re not
cursed. We’ve just been delaying the inevitable.”
“I kept hoping we’d find our mate on our own,” Ash sighed.
Smoke snorted. “We’re not going to find a mate when we’ve
stopped traveling the world and meeting people. She’s not suddenly
going to appear out of nowhere.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Isadora walked in with a tray
of drinks. “Are you boys back to talking numbers again?” She
laughed and put the tray down, glancing from one to the other. “I
would think finding a mate would be more important. You did
understand what I told you earlier, yes?”
“Yes, Isadora. No need to worry,” Smoke told her and marched
over to grab a glass of lemonade from her.
“I might not be a shifter,” she told him, “but I’m not stupid. I
heard you mention a matchmaker when I was at the door. The girls
all over the resort won’t stop talking about how you two need to pick
someone already.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “They’re
acting like there’s some kind of battle to be with you both.” She
fluffed her short, blonde bob. “If I was fifty years younger, they
would have serious competition on their hands.”
Ash choked on his drink, and Smoke chuckled loudly.
Ash couldn’t see Isadora as anything but a mom to them. She
was the reason they had such a thriving resort in Fire Mountain,
Costa Bonita. Without her help, they would have bungled the resort
takeover when Ash’s parents decided to travel the world.
 “We’ll figure it out, Isadora. No need to worry about it,” Ash
said. “Have you heard from your grandson today?”
Isadora shrugged. “He’s not answering my messages, so I’m not
sure if he’s made it out of bed yet. He was supposed to be here an
hour ago. Hopefully, he calls me back so I know what he’s got
planned today.” She gave a sad smile. “I haven’t seen him much
since he’s been here.”
Ash hated how Isadora’s kids had treated her throughout the
years. They’d distanced themselves from the moment they’d been
teenagers and chosen to live with their father’s family instead of
their mother. He couldn’t figure it out. He knew Isadora well enough
to know she was sweet, with nothing but kindness in her heart. So,
to see her family ignore her attempts to have a relationship, made
him angry.
Ash hugged Isadora. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure he’s nothing like his
parents.” He hoped , but the truth was that Mark had already shown
signs of only being interested in what he could get from his
grandmother.
She nodded and hugged him back, her small body turning into
nothing at his side. She was so fragile it scared him, but he knew
better than to say anything. At eighty, she was still strong enough to
argue with them on what she wanted to do with her life and
wouldn’t let anyone treat her with kid gloves.
“Thank you, Ash. I’ll see to the staff and make sure everything’s
running smoothly.”
“Thank you, Isa.”
He glanced at Smoke once she was gone and sat down. “We’ll
figure this out. I think we should go ahead and hire that PR person.
Maybe new marketing and promotion of the island will bring new life
to the land?”
Smoke nodded. “I think that it’s a good idea. Maybe Isa can
help with. I don’t know the first place to look.” He sighed, looking
out the door through which their assistant had exited. “She’s
amazing, I just hope her grandson realizes that and makes amends.”
Ash frowned. “I don’t know. To be honest, I feel like her family
doesn’t realize the gem they have as a matriarch.”
 Smoke stood. “That’s their problem, not ours. Let’s talk to her
about hiring someone.”
“What about finding our mate?” Ash asked. “Didn’t forget that
already did you?”
“Of course not,” Smoke grumbled. “I’m just focused on what we
can find easier, I doubt our mate will be easy.”
“Why do you say that?” Ash asked. His parents didn’t have a
hard time getting together. “All we need to find are other dragons
and ask them to visit. We can do that while the PR guy gets
comfortable here. It won’t be too difficult.”

GERRI WILDER FROWNED and stared at her cell phone, waiting for the call
to come in. Finally, her cell phone rang, and she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Is this Gerri Wilder?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?” she asked, knowing full well who it was.
“Hello, my name is Isadora Kenlin. I’m calling because I need
your help.”
“You do?” Gerri asked with a smile. “Or someone you know
does?”
There was silence for a moment. “How did you know? Oh, it
doesn’t matter,” Isadora sighed. “My boys Ash and Smoke need your
help. They have to find a mate, or they won’t be able to keep their
dragon line alive.”
Gerri sighed. “Ash Jonz and Smoke Price?”
“Yes!” Isadora exclaimed. “How did you know?”
Gerri shrugged. “ I knew their parents a long time ago. Tell me,
do the boys know you’re calling?”
“No,” Isadora said with exasperation in her voice. “They
mentioned your name and then dismissed asking for help. They’re
set on finding a mate on their own. But really, that hasn’t worked,
and I want them to stay alive and their clan to thrive. I really want
grand babies.” There was a small sigh. “My family won’t
acknowledge me, they’re the only kids I have left at this point. I
want to see them happy.”
“I can understand that, Isadora. What you are doing is very
noble. Tell me something,” Gerri said, glancing down at a list of
names. “Do you have any job openings at your resort?”
Isadora gasped. “We do!”
“Wonderful. I know just the girl. She’s worked in tourism and
would be an asset to your resort. I’ll send you her resume. Look at it
and let me know what position you feel she would be best for, and
I’ll contact her and send her your way.”
“That’s it?”
“The rest will come all by itself,” Gerri grinned. “Trust me.”
“If you say so,” Isadora said, sounding incredulous. “I really
appreciate your time and help with this. These boys need a mate,
and I want to see them thrive with a family.”
“They will. You just wait.”
“If you can make it happen that they find their mate, please
consider yourself a VIP guest for the rest of your life, and I hope you
come to visit us.”
“I may take you up on that,” Gerri told her with a laugh.
Gerri ended the call with Isadora and immediately sent her the
email with Valentina Lombardi’s resume. Less than half an hour later,
she was ready to call the young woman with some news.
“Hello?” Valentina said, answering her phone.
“Valentina, Hi! It’s Gerri Wilder. We met a few weeks ago at the
animal facility on adoption day.”
“Oh, Ms. Wilder! Of course. How are you doing?”
“I’m great. Remember how I told you I would let you know if I
heard of any openings to help you get your career going?”
“Yes,” she said, tentatively.
“I’ve just sent you a job offer from a resort in Fire Mountain,
Costa Bonita. They’d like to hire you as their Public Relations Vice
President.”
“What?” she shrieked. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious. Read the email and give Isadora Kenlin a call when
you can. She’ll do a virtual interview with you, but she’s already sent
me an offer which I’ve just forwarded to you. Does that look good?”
There was a moment of silence and then a scream. “Oh my
God! This is a joke, right? You’re messing with me, Ms. Wilder. Why
would they offer me the PR VP position when I haven’t gone past
Guest Relations Manager?”
“You have the drive, education, and experience. Plus, you bring
a fresh face to that position. Go forth and develop those skills.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled.
“Say yes.”
“What? Oh, yes! Yes!”
Gerri laughed. “Not to me. Give Isadora a call. She’s waiting.”
“I’ll call her right now,” she said quickly. “I can’t even begin to
tell you how amazing this is. Oh my God, I’m shaking. I look like a
giant mountain of wiggly jelly.”
Gerri laughed. “Relax Valentina. It’ll all be fine.”
“Oh, Ms. Wilder, remember at the event when I asked you to
find me a good man or two?”
Gerri grinned. “I do recall the conversation.”
“Um, I think you should forget I said that. I mean, I was
kidding. Plus, It was super inappropriate of me, and you probably
don’t have men knocking down doors to be matched to a curvy girl
who loves cake way too much.”
“Honey, if I had a dollar for every time someone said that to
me. Don’t worry about anything. Just go and do the job. The right
men will come your way.”
She gave a short laugh. “Men. You’re hilarious.”
“But, I’m curious, do you not want to find love?”
“Of course I do,” Valentina sighed. “But let’s be real here, if this
job pans out, I won’t have time to go on dates any time soon. And
what can you do, set me up over there?” She chuckled. “That’s
crazy.”
“Right, crazy.”
“Anyway, thank you so much for everything, and I’ll call Ms.
Kenlin right now. You don’t know how happy I am.”
“I’m glad this opportunity is just what you were looking for.”
“Thanks so much!”
 Gerri hung up and smiled at the setup. Maybe she would check
out the resort at Fire Mountain. After all, she hadn’t been to the
tropical islands in such a long time. And maybe she would find a few
other people who needed her services while there.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Valentina got off the plane and winced at the wave of heat that
smacked her in the face. Crap, this place was really hot. Instantly,
perspiration gathered on her upper lip, and her T-shirt clung to her
as if she had blown up in those few seconds. She’d been emailing
back and forth with Isadora and knew that Costa Bonita was a large
Caribbean island that sat close to the Bermuda triangle, which was
already enough to creep her out, but not enough for her to not take
the job.
Her excitement grew the more she glanced at the tourists. Most
of them wore shorts and tank tops with obvious vacation looks. She
noticed most were couples and guessed a lot of them were on their
honeymoon, like the two who sat across from her on the plane.
She’d never ridden first class before and was surprised that Isadora
had sent her a plane ticket that expensive. Still, it made for a great
six-hour flight. She’d gotten to relax on her much bigger seat and
feel super pampered every time the flight attendant walked by and
offered her a drink or snack.
In her regular life, she’d had to pay for snacks or bring
something to eat on the plane and hope she didn’t get stuck next to
a talker or have a kid kicking the back of her seat. But not this time,
she’d had a huge seat, and only adults were in her section. Everyone
was nice and quiet, and she was able to read a book, watch a
movie, and even take a nap. It was like she was on a paid vacation.
 When she got to the luggage pick up, a young guy with a polo
shirt displaying the name of the resort caught her attention. He had
a sign with her name on it.
“Hi, I’m Valentina Lombardi,” she grinned.
“Hi, I’m Mark. I’m supposed to drive you to the resort,” he said
with a smile. “Do you have any luggage?”
She nodded and looked for the baggage claim number her
suitcases were coming out of. The belts were already moving, and
she immediately caught sight of her two orange suitcases. She’d
learned a long time ago to get luggage easy to see and not confuse
with anyone else’s. She’d had an unpleasant experience where a
person walked out of the airport with her bag because they’d the
same type. Luckily, they’d returned and exchanged it, but she did
not want to go through that again.
“The orange ones are mine,” she said, and they both rushed
over to get the bags before they went back around. They each
grabbed one, and together they headed out of the airport.
“This is it?” he asked with surprise. “Most women have tons of
suitcases full of makeup, clothes, and shoes for a weekend trip.
You’re going to be here for the season, right?”
She laughed. “I’ll forgive you because you’re still young. How
old are you?”
“Eighteen,” he laughed. “But it’s true. Back home, my mom and
sisters never travel without tons of luggage.”
“Well, I shipped some stuff, but most of my things are in
storage. I can’t fathom shipping everything here in case things don’t
work out, you know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been working here for a week, but the
resort is really nice. It’s broken up into sections, depending on the
type of guest we have.”
She rolled her suitcase and matched his quick steps to the new
Mercedes SUV he stopped at. Eyes wide with surprise, she stared at
the vehicle and then at Mark. “Why would they send this just for
me?”
He chuckled and shrugged. “Beats me. Grandma said you were
VIP, and we needed to treat you as such.” He slipped one bag into
the trunk and then turned to take the other from her hand. “Why are
you so important? Are you the owner’s wife or something?”
“What? No!” She handed him the bag with confusion. “I have no
idea why she feels I’m a VIP, I’m actually not. I’m the new PR Vice
President, but I’m nobody that important.”
He watched her for a moment and then held the vehicle door
open. “Well, you might not think you are all that important, but I
was ordered to treat you like a VIP, and that’s what I shall do.” He
grinned. “So please get in and let’s get going. There’s water and
snacks ready for you.”
She slipped into the back seat and groaned at the cool leather.
She swore her skin sizzled when it hit the cold air. The SUV was nice
and comfortable, and as promised, chilled water bottles and snacks
had been placed between the two back seats.
Too excited and nervous to eat, she instead drank from a bottle
of water and looked out the window at the palm trees and the city
as he drove them onto the highway.
“So how are you liking Fire Mountain?” she asked Mark, trying
to make some conversation.
“It’s all right. My grandmother persuaded me to work here for
the summer and see how I like it. I didn’t actually have any plans
but wanted to make some money,” he said.
“Who’s your grandmother, exactly?”
“Isadora Kenlin. She’s a sweet old lady, but I don’t know that
this job is for me. I know she wants me to spend time on the island,
but we’ll see. I just met one of the guys there who seems pretty
cool.” He shrugged.
She frowned. “Does the job not pay well enough?”
“It pays all right. But I’m looking for something that’ll make me
rich quick. She just made it sound like I’d be making more money.”
He quoted his pay, and her jaw fell open. “You’re making that
much?”
“Kind of low, right?”
“I’m not sure what type of pay you’re used to, but that is
management-level pay you’re being given. What do they have you
do?”
 “The job is kind of boring. All I do is pick up people at the
airport and take them to their section of the resort and whatever.”
“That’s it?” She blinked and couldn’t stop the surprise in her
tone. The kid was making more than she made at most of her jobs
and all he had to do was drive guests to the resort, and he wanted
more money. He clearly had no idea of what people got paid in the
real world.
“Yeah, why?” He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Should I
be asking for more?”
“No. I,” she cleared her throat. “I think you should wait it out a
little bit and see how you feel about the job. Maybe something else
will open up that is more to your liking, but don’t quit because you
feel you’re not making enough. I mean,” she blew out a breath,
“you’re earning more than most hotel assistant managers. You
should try to hold on to the job. Grow into the company.”
“Meh. We’ll see,” he said noncommittally.
She had to fight the urge to smack the kid upside the head.
How could he even think he would make more money in any other
job without any experience or education? He was only eighteen and
being paid more than a bunch of the managers at the last hotel
she’d worked at and he was only a driver. The boy had no idea how
good he had it.
“So, how different are the sections of the resort?”
“Oh, they actually did some amazing things at Fire Mountain.
There are overwater bungalows at the beach as well as couple and
family sections. Someone really smart knew to keep newlyweds and
couples away from loud kids.”
She agreed. That was probably one of the biggest issues she’d
heard about every hotel she’d worked at. “My understanding is that
there is a couples-only resort called Private Spark and then a family
one called Open Blaze.”
“Right.” He agreed, “ So Private Spark has a private beach
section that includes the over water bungalows. Then there are the
forest cabins for the couples that are more into hiking and zip-lining.
And the third is up close to the edge of the sugar beach, and that is
a super private set of cabins that overlook the trees and volcano.
Those guests have a private helipad and continuous use of the
resort helicopter to take them into the village for shopping.”
Goodness. This had to be one of the most VIP hotels she’d ever
heard of. She knew that the couples who stayed up at the edge of
the beach were usually celebrities and those who could afford to
spare no expense for a vacation. It wasn’t easy dishing out tens of
thousands per night just to say you slept at a “five-star” cabin by a
volcano.
“The forest cabins all have private golf carts, and beach
bungalows get driven up to the mountain if they want to go hiking
or on a private tour.” Mark continued.
She nodded. One of the first things she’d planned on doing was
go on each of the tours offered by the resort to make sure she knew
the ones she wanted to feature on social media, as well as hiring
someone to handle the social media accounts of the resort. Each
section needed its personal brand promotion, and she couldn’t do
that all on her own.
“For someone who has only been here a week, you already
memorized a lot of information,” she told him.
“It was easy. I’m pretty good at remembering things.”
They arrived at the staff offices, and he drove behind the
building to a beach bungalow with a stunning view of the ocean. She
frowned. He got out of the SUV and started taking out her luggage.
“Hey,” she climbed out and went to help him with her bags. “I’m
supposed to be in the staff housing.”
He shook his head. “That’s for regular folks like me. You’re a VP,
so you get your own bungalow. There’s only a handful of these, so
you’re lucky you got one.” Then he motioned to the bungalow with
his head. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it. It’s really nice inside.”
She bit her lip and sighed. “I guess we should take my stuff
inside.”
He handed her a key card and rolled her bags while she opened
the door. The bungalow was gorgeous. It was bigger than her one-
bedroom apartment back home.
“Grandma said for you to relax the rest of the day, and she’d
call you to see if you wanted to have dinner later.” He met her gaze
and curled his lip in distaste. “I don’t wanna have dinner with her.
It’s embarrassing when the girls come in, you know? Not real manly.
I have my own plans, so please go. This way she’ll stop bugging
me.”
Manly at eighteen? The boy didn’t have a clue. Valentina blinked
and pressed her lips together. “Thanks for bringing in my stuff,
Mark.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. At the door, he turned to her. “I
won’t hold you to a tip today since you just got here. You’ll get a
jeep tomorrow when you do your tour of the resorts with Kristin, the
Operations Director. Good night.”
She watched him run over to the SUV and take off. That was
one troubled boy. He really had no idea about jobs and income. Get
rich quick did not exist unless it was something underhanded. His
grandmother had gotten him a great starting position, and he was
already looking to find something better. It boggled Valentina’s mind.
Not wasting any time, she rolled her suitcases to her bedroom,
loving the glass wall that allowed her full view of the beach. She
quickly put her stuff away, she’d just thrown on a pair of shorts and
a tank top when the phone by the bed rang.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Valentina stared at the phone as it rang. Who would be calling her?

Nobody had her number. Hell, even she didn’t have the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Valentina,” she recognized Isadora’s voice, “welcome to Fire
Mountain! I’m so excited you’re here.”
Valentina blushed under the praise. “Thank you. This bungalow
is beautiful, and the view is spectacular. I don’t deserve all these
privileges.”
“Nonsense!” Isadora chastised. “Of course you do. You’re our
new PR head. I want you to feel both happy and welcomed here. I
was wondering if you have any dinner plans? Or are you too tired
and want to turn in early?”
“Surprisingly, no. I’m not tired and have no plans. I kind of
expected to get to work right away, so my mind was already set that
it would be a long day.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that to you after such a long trip. We
could go to Inferno, but I think we’ll save that for another day.
Tonight, let’s have dinner at Sabrosura. It’s a Latin restaurant in the
Private Spark resort.”
“Ooh, sounds great. I love food. All food. Speaking of, I’d like to
go food shopping, and I’m not sure if there is a supermarket or
someplace I can get the stuff I need?”
“Write out whatever you need, and I’ll have the chef pick it up
tomorrow when he goes to the village market in the morning. He
can drop it off at your bungalow when he returns.”
“Oh, that would be awesome. Okay, so dinner. What time do
you want to meet up?”
“How is six for you? Too late or early?”
She glanced longingly out at the beach. “Nope, that’s perfect. I
wanted to take a walk on the beach, and that allows me some time.”
She cleared her throat and picked up the card next to the
flowers at her coffee table. They were from Isadora. She smiled at
the sweet gesture. “Thank you so much for the flowers.”
“You’re very welcome. There’s a fruit platter in your fridge,
along with some essentials. That’s why I had you send me that list
of your favorites. Cereal, cookies, and the like. Didn’t want you to
arrive with nothing in your cabinets and fridge.”
Valentina opened the freezer side of the fridge to a glorious
sight. “Seriously? Did you actually put ice cream in my freezer?”
“Of course! I can’t welcome you to a Caribbean island without
some good ice cream to eat while you watch the sunset.”
“You’re the best ever! Thank you so much! I don’t even know
what to say. This whole job opportunity and your kindness with
everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Nonsense. No need to thank me. I know how it is to go to a
new job away from home and not have any of your favorite things
available. I want you to feel right at home,” Isadora said softly.
“I do. I really do.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six then. And don’t worry. Your
company car will be given to you tomorrow when Kristin takes you
on a tour.”
“Yeah, Mark told me.”
“I hope he behaved,” Isadora asked, her voice full of concern.
“Yeah. He seems like a good kid, just has some unrealistic
expectations,” she laughed.
“Oh God. Did he complain about his pay to you too? I don’t
know what to do with that boy.”
“It might be a good idea to talk with him. I don’t think you’ll
want others who do more work but make less than him getting
upset over his higher pay.”
 “That’s not possible. That is the entry pay for everyone at his
job grade. He just doesn’t realize how lucky he is.”
Holy fuck. The resort must be doing amazing for entry levels to
make that much. “That is very generous.”
“The owners like employees to feel welcomed. Costa Bonita
wouldn’t be what it is, if not for them.”
“Speaking of the owners. I only found a corporation name when
I tried to research the resort. Do you have any information I can
read on the owners or something? I would like to have some details
in case they ever show up.”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll get to that in time. Right now,
you settle in and focus on becoming acquainted with the resorts and
the staff.”
Isadora was right. Valentina just liked being prepared, but no
sense in taking on too much. Besides, owners usually made it known
when they were visiting their hotels. The flashy Mercedes, expensive
suits, watches, the staff getting freaked out beforehand.
After hanging up with Isadora, she went to the kitchen and
opened the fridge. There was fruit, milk, juice, and salad fixings,
along with cold cuts. There was fresh bread on the island, along with
more fruit. Cereal, cookies, and other snacks in the pantry. Way too
much stuff, which she probably wouldn’t eat, since she’d been told
most of the staff living in the resort ate in the employee cafeterias
and grills.
She took out an ice cream bar since she had a few hours before
dinner, shut her door, and slipped her key card into her pocket. She
left her sandals in front of her bungalow and walked barefoot to the
beach. The cold ice cream bar was a great treat after her long travel
day. The sand was cool, and she loved feeling it smush between her
toes.
The stretch of sand between Private Spark and Open Blaze
allowed the employees to have their own slice of paradise. She saw
some people lying on towels, others on chairs, and a few walking
like she was. She stopped to stare at the horizon. The water was
beautiful. There was a gentle breeze that helped keep the heat to a
tolerable level. She loved how many palm trees there were
everywhere.
Thinking back to Gerri Wilder, and her crazy request that the
matchmaker find her a man or two, she was glad she had asked
Gerri to cancel that. Her focus should be on her career and not
trying to find love. She was divorced, for crying out loud. She knew
what it took to make a relationship work, and the truth was that a
lot of people weren’t ready for that.
Her string of failed relationships and a massively failed marriage
made her wonder if she was the problem. Maybe she’d expected too
much? That thought reminded her of Victor, her ex-husband. He’d
told her that a woman her size wasn’t supposed to make so many
demands. How could she expect faithfulness when there were so
many young, slim, beautiful women out there?
How could she think he would be happy with her long term,
when she had let herself go, to the point that he was no longer
attracted to her? And how could she think to compete with women
that had charisma and outgoing personalities? She was too fat, shy
and too much of a wallflower for any man. She still remembered.
Word for word. Was Victor right?
What if she expected too much? What if men would only be
faithful to slim, beautiful, sexy women that wanted to have sex all
the time and never had problems with them being out late or
hanging out all the time with their friends. She felt nauseous
suddenly. If she was not one of the lucky women who could expect a
man to treat her right, then maybe she was better off alone—
The jogger coming her way, whom she had ignored, ran into her
shoulder, knocking her off her feet, but a strong pair of hands held
her and pulled her close, stopping her fall onto the sand.
She screamed and grabbed onto the man, her gaze shooting up
to meet a pair of blue eyes that left her breathless. Holy crap.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes filled with concern as he
steadied her on her feet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Swiping her tongue over her lips, she sucked in a breath and let
it out slowly. “I’m okay.” Maybe. Physically, she was fine. Her mind,
on the other hand, was having a hard time dealing with this
gorgeous, mostly naked man, holding her so close. “You can let go.”
He didn’t seem worried about how close they were. “Are you
sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” That’s it? Yes? But no other words came out of her lips. It
was like she’d forgotten how to speak. The guy was huge, with a big
buffed body, gorgeous suntanned skin, and blond hair, which made
her want to slide her fingers through the wheat-colored strands.
“I’m very sorry,” he repeated. “Someone waved at me, and I got
distracted,” he pressed his lips together. “I should have been paying
more attention while running.”
“It’s fine,” she cleared her throat and pulled back a few steps,
needing the distance so her brain could get back into working order.
Come on girl. You’ve seen handsome men before. Sure, none ever
really noticed you, but you’ve seen them.
“Are you new?”
She frowned then remembered this was the employee beach.
“Yes. I’m Valentina. Nice to meet you.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then it was
gone. A slow, predatory grin spread over his lips, and she almost
fanned her face. “Beautiful name. I’m Smoke. Nice to meet you.”
The way he stared at her face made her feel weird. Men didn’t
ever look at her in such a sexual manner. It made her want to cover
up. His gaze scanned from her face down to her chest and continued
farther until he did a full perusal of her body. Awareness grew in her
chest, making her breath quicken. “Really, I’m okay. No injuries. You
can continue your run.”
He glanced at her lips and then back at her eyes. His steady
gaze bore into her eyes. “I’m done for today. Were you going
somewhere specific?”
“No. Just wanted to take a walk. It’s my first day here, and I
wanted to make sure I got to visit the beach a little bit before I
begin working.”
“The beach at this time is great. Not too hot, and you get a
great view of the sunset.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
HERE AND THERE IN MARYLAND
BY EDWARD G. McDOWELL.
Near Pen-Mar, Western Maryland Railroad.
Old Mill Race, Walbrook.
Near Annapolis.
In Green Spring Valley.
The Old Liberty Road.
Tred Avon River.
On Gwynn’s Falls.
Smith’s Lane, Walbrook.
 HOW RANDALL GOT INTO THE
SALON

It was fully a minute before Joe Randall could summon up his

courage to knock. He was ordinarily a phlegmatic Englishman, not
easily moved, but to-day he was out of breath from an exceptionally
long walk, and the excitement which invariably attends the first visit
of an inconsequential young art student to the studio of a world-
renowned painter. At length he resolutely pulled himself together and
rapped. He received in reply a command, rather than an invitation, to
enter. In obedience to the imperative summons he slowly pushed the
massive door ajar and the next instant perceived he was standing in
the actual, awful presence of the famous Master. The shock
produced on him by the sudden change from the comparative
darkness of the hall to the fierce, out-of-door light of the studio,
blinded and troubled him nearly as much as did the contrast of his
own littleness and poverty with the evidences of oppressive
affluence and power before him. In his confusion a large, weather-
beaten canvas, ill-tied and wrapped in an old journal, which he had
carried under his arm all the way over from the Latin Quarter to far-
away Montmartre, slipped from its flimsy envelope and fell with a
resounding bang upon the floor, thereby adding to his already great
embarrassment. He stooped nervously to pick it up, giving vent at
the same time to a half audible “Bon jour!”
He had timed his visit so as not to interfere with the Master’s
morning work, and noticed with a feeling of satisfaction and returning
confidence, that the model had gone, and that the Master himself
was languidly engaged in cleaning up his palette. The Master, on his
part, was evidently used to visits of the kind from other shabbily-
dressed young men, for he promptly roared back, “Bon jour,” and
even added “mon ami!” in tones in which it would have been difficult
to detect a single friendly note. The unexpectedness of the second
part of the greeting served partially to reassure Randall, and enabled
him to explain the cause of his intrusion.
“I have come,” he began in halting, broken French, “to ask you if
you will criticise a picture which I intend to submit to the Salon jury
next month? I am not a pupil of yours at present, although I have
studied for a short time under you at Julian’s,—before I entered
Monsieur Rousseau’s class at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, where I am
now working. I have been told that you are always willing to give
advice to young men of your profession, and especially to those
who, like myself, have once been members of your school.”
The Master, who was a fat, energetic little man of about sixty,
glared at the intruder from under a pair of bushy eyebrows, as
though he were trying to look him through and through and read if he
had any other motive in coming to call upon him; and then, with a
movement bordering on brusqueness, whisked the canvas from his
trembling hand and placed it on a vacant easel by his side. He
intended no unkindness by his action, as Randall soon found out for
himself. He was only authoritative, and this was his habitual manner
towards friend and foe alike, as well as the secret that underlay his
success and power in the artistic world. For power he certainly had;
not the kind perhaps that comes from fine achievement or a noble
personality, but a sort of brutal, political,—and as he put it,
“administrative”—power, which caused him to be courted and feared,
and enabled him to make and unmake the reputations of countless
of his fellow craftsmen. It was an open secret that he managed the
only Salon then in existence practically as he pleased, and put in or
put out all those whom he happened at the moment either to like or
dislike; that he medalled, or left without recompense, whomsoever
he chose; and that on more than one occasion (it must be confessed
to his shame) he had even unjustly withheld the official honors from
those who were most eminently entitled to receive them.
He regarded the picture with the stony stare of the Sphinx for what
appeared to Joe Randall to be an eternity, and then, turning
suddenly towards him, said, with astounding candor—perfected by a
long and constant cultivation,—“Personally, I don’t like your picture at
all: It is a landscape, even if there are two unimportant little figures in
it, and landscapes, however well done, are of little consequence and
prove nothing. This one, with the exception of the distance, which is
passably good, is not comprehensively treated; the foreground is not
at all right in values and doesn’t explain itself; it is, in fact, a wretched
piece of work and spoils whatever small merit there may be in the
picture. Can’t you yourself see that it does so?”
Randall had thought his picture fairly good when he had taken it
away from his poor little studio in the Latin Quarter that morning, but
here, in the midst of all these gorgeous surroundings, he had to
admit that it looked insignificant enough.
“If I were in your place,” the Master continued, “I should not waste
any more time on that production, but would paint a figure piece—a
Jeanne d’Arc, or some classical, or Biblical subject: pictures of this
kind always create a sensation in the Salon, and—get three-fourths
of the recompenses besides,” he added shrewdly.
“But it is too late to do that this year,” answered Joe; “there is
barely a month before the pictures must be sent to the Palais de
l’Industrie.”
“That is true,” admitted the Master wearily.
“I must send this picture in,” continued Joe, “or nothing.”
“Then,” replied the Master promptly, “I would send in nothing.”
 Randall was silenced and thoroughly discouraged by this
rejoinder. He thought bitterly over his want of success. He had sent
pictures to the three preceding Salons, and all of them had been
declined. If he followed the advice just given him he would have to
wait a whole year before he would have another chance to make his
bow to the public as a real, a professional painter. It was too
maddening and the more he thought about it the more miserable he
became. He showed this state of feeling plainly in his face, and the
Master forgot himself long enough to notice it, and to his own very
great astonishment was touched.
“Is it very important that you should exhibit something this year?”
he inquired in a kinder voice.
“Yes,” replied Joe, nearly bursting into tears, “it is of the utmost
importance to me. I have been refused for three years in succession,
and if I do not get something into the Salon this spring, my father will
think that my picture has been rejected again, and will probably send
for me to come home and make me give up art.”
“In that case,” said the Master firmly, “we must get you in.”
He walked over to his Louis XV desk and picked up a small red
note-book, bound in Russia leather, which was filled with the names
of his private pupils and alphabetically and conveniently arranged.
“What is your name, young man?” he asked; and on receiving his
reply, he turned the page reserved for the R’s and wrote down
hastily, “Randall, J.—landscape.” “Now,” he went on, “do what I tell
you! Go home and paint up that foreground more carefully. Even I
could not get my associates to vote for it as it stands. I will see to the
rest—don’t worry! You can count on me!”
Randall, light-hearted once more, expressed his thanks profusely
for these highly comforting assurances, and was on the point of
departing when the Master abruptly demanded, “Why didn’t you go
to the Pere Rousseau, instead of coming to me? He is your teacher
now, not I!”
“I did go to him.” admitted Randall, blushing deeply, “and he said
my work wasn’t half bad, and⸺”
 “But did you ask him to speak a good word for you to the jury?”
inquired the Master maliciously.
“Yes,” nodded Randall, smiling but blushing still more deeply. “I felt
that so many of the professors protected their pupils that it was only
fair that I should receive the same treatment.”
“Well! what then?” demanded the Master, ill-concealing an
irrepressible tendency to laugh.
“He became very angry and ordered me out of his place,”
responded Joe. “He said that any man who was not strong enough
to get into the Salon on his own merit, ought to be thrown out.”
The Master was rolling over and over on his divan in a most
indecorous way, holding his plump hands on his plump sides, in an
explosion of merriment. Then, suddenly realizing how undignified his
behavior must appear, he recovered his composure with a jerk, and
remarked thoughtfully, with just a tinge of pity in his voice, “The Pere
Rousseau—the dear old man—always acts like that when he is
requested to protect anyone! He is a sort of modern Don Quixote
and can’t understand how matters are arranged to-day. If it weren’t
for me—his best friend—he wouldn’t see the work of many of his
pupils in the Salon; and let me add, young man, that it is a mighty
good thing for you that you could say just now you were a pupil of his
and not of some of the other so-called artists I could name to you if I
chose.”
The Master’s eyebrows became ominously contracted again, and
he only deigned to snap out a ferocious “Bon jour!” to the departing
Randall, omitting the more cordial “mon ami” of the first salutation.
The annual banquet given by the Alumni and the present students
of the Atelier Rousseau, was offered to that distinguished artist, as
was usual, just before the opening of the colossal Parisian picture
show. It was also, as usual, a very gay affair. The Pere Rousseau
himself, affable and stately, appeared punctually on the scene of the
festivities and was promptly ensconced in a huge armchair,
thoughtfully placed half way down a long vista of coarse, but snowy,
tablecloth. Opposite to him, in another similar armchair, sat his best
friend—the Master, to whom Randall had so recently gone for
advice. He was radiant and happy; a sense of duty well done
pervaded his entire personality. The dinner—a truly marvelous
production at the price—was eaten with avidity by the younger men,
who were not used to such luxury every day, and with a good-
natured tolerance by Monsieur Rousseau, the Master, and those few
of the guests who had been born with silver spoons in their mouths,
or whose feet were, by their own creditable endeavors, firmly planted
on the highroad which leads to fame and fortune. Such small
formality as existed at the commencement of the feast gradually
disappeared and, when the inevitable champagne was finally
brought forth, there were not over a hundred individuals with a
hundred diverse interests present, but one great human family,
presided over by a dearly loved and affectionate father. Then
speeches were made, and Lecroix, the most irrepressible, fun-loving
man in the school, became bold enough to produce a Punch and
Judy booth from a room nearby and proceeded to give an audacious
parody on the Atelier and its illustrious chief.
Randall not having heard from his picture, and dying to know its
fate, managed, under the pretence of seeing the performance better,
to work his way up close to the Master’s chair. The Master saw him
and smiled: “It is all right,” he whispered, “you are well placed, nearly
on the line in the Salle d’Honneur. Why, however, did you change
your picture so much? The distance was fairly good when you
showed it to me at my studio, and you ought only to have worked on
the foreground. The changes you have made in the composition
were so badly done, and ill-advised, that I had to fight hard, I can tell
you, against a pack of over-conscientious fellows, before I could get
them to vote for it at all. If it hadn’t been lunch time, and so many of
them were hungry and wanted to leave, rather than to dispute over
pictures, I don’t think that even I could have managed them
satisfactorily.”
“But,” interrupted Joe in astonishment, “I didn’t change the
composition a bit. I only altered the foreground as you told me to do.”
“Then there must be some mistake,” said the Master uneasily. “But
no! Here we are.” He produced his faithful note book from his pocket
and fumbled its pages until he came to the one devoted to the R’s,
and pointed to the words he had written over a month before,
“Randall, J.—landscape;” after which he had scribbled with a blue
pencil the words “Accepted” and “John.” “You did not give me your
first name when I wrote this here, so I copied it down afterwards from
your picture when I saw that it was safely and desirably hung. You
see that it’s all right after all: you almost made me feel for the
moment as though there were some error.”
“But there is a mistake!” groaned the young man in his agony, “my
first name is Joseph, not John, and you have protected some body
else whose last name and initial happen to be the same as mine.”
“’Cre nom de nom!” whistled the master profanely.

John Randall—an American from Vermont—returned from the

Salon on Varnishing Day. He sat down and wrote to his people
across the water, telling them triumphantly the news of his
acceptance—the bare fact of which he had cabled to them the week
before. He described graphically the memorable opening day, and
thus ended up his letter:
“You have heard no doubt long ago that I have passed the difficult
test of the Salon jury, and that my very first picture has been
accepted. I am all the more pleased and proud over the result
because it was received solely on its own merits. I painted it by
myself, without any outside advice or criticism, and did not solicit the
protection of the professors of the school, as I found, to my disgust,
so many of my comrades were engaged in doing. Besides the fact of
getting in under these circumstances, I am also pleased to be able to
tell you that the hanging committee have seen fit to give me one of
the very best places in the whole Salon—in the Gallery of Honor.
Having done so well with my first picture, I feel that I am fully justified
in anticipating a like measure of success with my second.
Give my love to all at home, and believe me,
Most affectionately your,
JOHN RANDALL.”
—Clinton Peters.
 A VALENTINE.
I send my heart across the years to you!
With all its humanness and all its waste;
With all that yet is tender and is true,
Though time has triumphed and youth’s hope disgraced.

What though the snows are gathered on the ground,

And bare the bough within the aching chill?
I think of you—and in my ear a sound
Breaks, and enraptures with its April thrill!

I hear the trailing hem of laggard Spring,

And daffodils seem leaning to my hand,
And on the air I glimpse the eager wing
Of birds that wander from a softer land.

And I forget—forget the world of loss,

The drift and change of things, the pain of age:
For dreams have turned to gold life’s gifts of dross;
A sweetness lingers on time’s yellowed page.

I send my heart across the years to you

As missive of the season’s hallowed day,
To you who make the heavens seem so blue—
Make love forget its livery’s grown gray:

—Maurice Weyland.
 ELENA’S DAUGHTERS
BY D. RAMON ORTEGA Y FRIAS
From the Spanish by L. Solyom.

CHAPTER I.
DOÑA ELENA, DOÑA LUZ, DOÑA ESTRELLA.

Never, either in the times when the Spaniards were ruled by a

King who was the best of cavaliers and worst of poets—yet still a
poet—a King who paid too much attention to pretty women, and
none whatever to affairs of state,—nor yet up to the present time,
has any one known or hoped to know the history of the famous
Elena and her three daughters who have acquired a fame scarcely
inferior to her own. Yet it has become known. We know it, and the
reader shall know all that afterwards happened to these three
women and to their mother, who made them worthy of the celebrity
which they acquired.
Doña Elena used to affirm that she was the widow of an “Alcalde
de casa y corte” (a sort of justice of the peace), and that she was
able to live decently and at ease on the property consisting of her
marriage portion and what her husband had left her; and certainly
she did live in this style. She was very devout, went to mass every
day, to confession and communion every Sunday, and there was
never a religious festival at which she was not present. She received
no visitors except a Dominican friar, a very virtuous man; a
gentleman who was very rich, old, and belonged to the order of
Santiago, who never left the cross except when he went to sleep,
and then only because he had another at the head of his bed; and a
retired captain, lame and one-eyed, who had once held an important
position in the Indies. Neither their age, characters, nor condition
could give rise to any suspicion, or give any reason for censure.
The widow had three daughters, grown to womanhood, and
brought up in the fear of God, as they must have been with such a
mother. It was supposed that they wanted to get married, which was
very natural, yet as they never gave any cause for scandal, it was
impossible not to recognize their virtue. As far as could be
ascertained, the family was as honorable as any other, and led a
saintly life, yet the widow and her daughters were looked upon with a
certain avoidance, some distrust and some fear. Why? Nobody
knew. The suspicions, though apparently unjust, were instinctive.
People persisted in their determination to see something
mysterious in the family, and that was enough. When the occasion
arises, we shall repeat some of the grave and extraordinary things
that were said about them, things touching the miraculous and
supernatural; but, as no one could affirm that he had actually seen
anything, it was all hearsay, and there was reason to suppose that
an evil-disposed, hidden and despicable enemy had spread these
reports, in order to harm the widow and her daughters with impunity.
Many people came to this sensible conclusion, but still there was
always some doubt left, and a lack of confidence was justifiable
because the vox populi might be right, and it has always been
considered better to err on the side of prudence than that of daring.
If the enemy was some discarded suitor, who was resolved that no
one else should have what he could not obtain, he might well have
rejoiced at the success of his scheme, for it was not an easy thing for
these three girls to find husbands while such doubts and rumors