background and you're also bilingual. The position is for six months and pays extremely well. You won't…” Alicia's words trailed off as she averted her gaze to stare at a tiny lizard crawling up the screen.
“I won't what?” Vivienne asked, leaning forward on her lounger.
“You'll have to make yourself available 24/7. Diego's an international businessman, so if he's up at two in the morning talking to someone on the other side of the world he may need his assistant to be available, too.”
“So, I'd become a live-in personal assistant?”
“Yes,” Alicia said after a long pause. “I'm certain he'll hire you because you're confident and assertive. He fired the first applicant because she locked herself in the ladies' room, and refused to come out after he'd reprimanded her.”
Vivienne knew her friend made a living from the fees clients paid Alicia's placement agency. But lately, Vivienne found herself tired of sleeping late and hanging around the pool bemoaning the turn her life had taken. No one other than her attorney knew at the time of her husband's death that she'd planned to divorce Sean Gregory anyway. She'd told the reporter who'd managed to get around the police barricade that she'd come to Washington to attend a fund-raiser with Sean. But, the truth was she'd come to tell her husband that her attorney had filed documents to end their four-year sham of a marriage.
She sat up. “Set up the interview, Alicia.”
“Yes,” Alicia whispered as she pumped her fist in the air. Her company had grown from placing nannies and au pairs with wealthy couples who were either too lazy or disinclined to care for their own children, to providing executive and support staff for several Florida-based companies, of which ColeDiz International Ltd. was one.
When she'd heard that her friend had lost her husband, she hadn't hesitated when she booked a flight to Connecticut to be with Vivienne. The public viewed Vivienne Gregory as the beautiful grieving widow of one of Washington's young rising stars. But it wasn't the loss of her husband Vivienne grieved most, but that of a marriage that'd ended before it had a chance to begin. She'd been a political widow four years before she legally became one.
Diego Cole-Thomas closed the shades to shut out the blinding rays of the summer sun before taking his seat at a round table in the anteroom of his office with his cousin and confidant. He'd asked Joseph Cole-Wilson Jr. to meet with him over breakfast because he wanted to discuss a venture that was certain to change the family-owned conglomerate forever.
Diego had celebrated his first year as CEO in April, and it'd taken twelve months to gain the complete confidence of his employees, managers and board of directors to move the company in another direction. Diego's great-grandfather, Samuel Claridge Cole, had set up the company in 1925, and more than eighty years later not much had changed. The board of directors was expanded to include nonfamily members, but every CEO was a direct descendant of Samuel Cole. Martin and David, sons of Samuel, held the position before Diego's father Timothy Cole-Thomas took over the helm. He was now the fourth generation and fifth chief executive officer of a company with holdings that included coffee plantations in Mexico, Jamaica, Puerto Rico and Brazil, vacation properties throughout the Caribbean and banana plantations in Belize.
His first action upon assuming control was to become a cotton broker. He paid cash on delivery to a Ugandan cotton grower, making ColeDiz the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the United States.
Ignoring the cup of coffee next to him, Diego stared at Joseph. He knew his cousin was still smarting because he'd requested the eight o'clock meeting the day the corporate attorney was scheduled to begin a two-week vacation with his longtime girlfriend.
“What I want to tell you will not take much of your time.”
“Gracias, primo,” Joseph whispered in Spanish under his breath.
A slight frown was the only indication of Diego's annoyance with his younger cousin for the unsolicited aside. He'd brought the twenty-eight-year-old into the company, but after five months Joseph still hadn't shown any initiative. If their grandmothers hadn't been sisters, Diego would've fired him his first week on the job.
Even though his last name was Wilson, Joseph's looks were undeniably Cole. He'd inherited Marguerite-Josefina Diaz-Cole, his Cuban-born great-grandmother's, olive coloring and refined features. His close-cropped curly black hair, large dark eyes and sensual mouth had many of the single female employees openly lusting after him. However, once word got out that he was dating a girl he'd met in law school, a collective groan could be heard from his admirers.
“I wanted to tell you before you leave that ColeDiz will establish its first American-based company before the end of the year.”
Joseph sat forward in his chair. “What about the coffee plantation in Lares, Puerto Rico?”
Diego inclined his head. “I should've said a company on the mainland.”
“¿Dónde sobre la tierra firme, Diego?”
Diego's expression didn't change. “Carolina del Sur.” The only time he spoke Spanish at the office was when he and Joseph were alone. His mother didn't speak the language, but his abuela Nancy spoke only Spanish whenever he and his siblings visited with her. Nancy Cole-Wilson never wanted him to forget his African and Cuban roots.
“What the hell is in South Carolina?”
Planting an arm on the table, Diego cradled his chin on the heel of his hand. “Tea.”
Joseph's eyes grew wide. “Tea?” he repeated.
“Sí, primo. Té. ColeDiz is going to get into the business of growing and manufacturing tea, and I'm going to put you in charge of our first North American venture.”
The light that fired the jet-black orbs dimmed. “I know nothing about tea. I'm a lawyer, not a farmer, Diego.”
“I'm not a farmer, yet I know the entire process of growing and harvesting coffee and bananas.”
Joseph wasn't about to argue with his cousin, because he knew he would come out on the losing end. So, he decided to try another approach. “Isn't tea only grown in Asia?”
Diego lifted his eyebrows. “That's what most people believe. But, there's only one tea garden or plantation in America, and it's on Wadmalaw Island in the South Carolina low country.”
“Where do you plan on setting up this plantation?”
“I had someone buy a hundred acres between Kiawah and Edisto Islands. When you return from your vacation I want you to negotiate the transfer of the property to ColeDiz. We'll put in the tea shrubs late fall and hopefully we'll be able to get our first harvest next spring and the second harvest in the summer. And if the warm weather holds throughout the winter, then we can expect another harvest.”
Joseph stared at the man who looked enough like their great-grandfather Samuel to have been his twin. And, the family joke was that Diego was as driven as the man who was known as the consummate twentieth-century deal maker.
“Should I assume that you don't want anyone to know about the venture until you begin planting?”
Diego nodded. “You assume correctly.”
“Have you run this by the rest of the family?”
Silence shrouded the room, swelling
