The Refuge

Chapter 37

To convince people don't try to reach their head try to reach their heart.—

A

mit Kalantri

Ramona fidgeted with her hands and tapped her feet in anticipation. After having checked in with security inside the outer gate, she, Gael, and Paloma had been escorted through the grand hallways of the mansion. Where most men would have hung paintings or photographs to beautify their walls, Mr. Ortega had hung framed copies of newspapers, all documenting his rise to the top of Newhill’s society.

Glancing over the headlines as she traversed the hallways, Ramona had gained a sense of appreciation for the hard work he had put in to attain the status he now enjoyed. His ambition had trumped the stifling bureaucracy that preceded him. 

Currently, she waited in a sitting room basking in the sunlight that washed in through the glass doors leading out to his balcony. The escorts had assured Ramona and her companions that Mr. Ortega would be out to meet them in his own time, but that time felt as if it would never come. Maybe he was actually as busy a man as he claimed. 

“Hey, you alright?” Gael asked from the armchair across from Ramona, pulling her from her troubled introspection. 

Ramona nodded, adding in a shrug for good measure. “Yeah, just trying to stay positive over here. The wait’s killing me.” 

“I know, it’d be nice to get on with it already.” 

“Right? And you know Mom’s pulling her hair out at home, dying that she hasn’t heard anything from us yet.” 

Gael snorted. “Sounds about right. Sure hope we get this sorted out before she pulls it all out.” 

Paloma leaned forward with an amused grin on her face. “In my family, it would probably be my dad worrying for us like your mom does. In fact, if we end out waiting too long, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him come here to see what’s going on for himself.” 

“I don’t really blame him.” Gael said, “No good dad’s just gonna blindly assume everything’s alright.” 

“Exactly! It can feel a little stifling sometimes, I guess, but I feel so much safer knowing–” 

Paloma stopped short upon hearing the door creak open. All three heads turned to see Bolivar Ortega strutting into the room, adorned in a well-fitted suit of navy blue hue. His tailored trousers matched the jacket, and he wore a white shirt underneath with a return to blue for the tie. His leather shoes and watch band accented the rest of the ensemble nicely. 

He looked their way and arched a brow in questioning.

Gael shot to his feet and gave Bolivar a hearty handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ortega. I’m Gael, Ramona’s brother.” 

“Gael…alright, it’s a pleasure,” Bolivar muttered, averting his eyes to gaze upon Ramona who had risen to her feet.  A smile spread across his face. “I do hope the wait never struck you as any lack of hospitality. I have a great deal to attend to.” 

“Oh, of course,” Ramona said, “I’ve never heard of anyone becoming mayor by sitting on their hands.” 

Bolivar kissed Ramona’s hand, making electrifying eye contact as he did so. Then he glanced at Paloma, who had just risen behind them. “That makes two of us. Who might this be?” 

“That’s my sister, Paloma. I hope you don’t mind the extra company; we were running errands and figured we’d all stop by.” 

“A sister to you will be a sister to me in due time. I may as well get acquainted now.”