Santiago Sol Read Online Free PDF

pocket and extended it toward Tansy. She hesitated, but he pushed it into her hand. She used one corner to dab at her nose, and refusing to hand it back to him, tucked it into her bag. “I’ll wash it for you.”
    He grinned, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone like you, Miss Chastain.”
    She dipped her head, feeling a blush heat her face and wondering if he’d meant that as a compliment, or not. Before she could think of something to say, he grabbed her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
    “Come along, we’re almost there, and the line will be getting long at this time of day.”
    Café Melba was located on a narrow, tree-lined street, occupying space on the ground floor of what looked like another apartment building. An outside patio sporting wide umbrellas at each table extended almost into the sidewalk. Sebastian opened the door to the cosmopolitan restaurant where elite businessmen in expensive Italian suits brushed arms with dread-locked hipsters wearing thick-rimmed, black glasses. Energy surged through the warm, noisy space. Papers, fliers, posters, and advertisements pinned to a corkboard fluttered in the slight breeze from a ceiling fan.
    Tansy moved to peer at the various ads for roommates, jobs, meetings, items for sale—the usual bulletin board fare, only in multiple languages. Her gaze roved across the board, her writer’s mind expanding and expounding on the lives, the stories, of the people who had posted things at Café Melba. Were they so different from the folks she knew at home who pinned similar notices on the bulletin board at the local Denny’s? She thought not.
    Her gaze landed on a magenta flier near the bottom right-hand corner of the board. Iglesia Espiritu Santo. She pursed her lips. Holy Spirit Church. That had been the name of the St. Johns’ ministry outreach. She unpinned the sheet of paper from the board.
    “Our table is ready,” Sebastian’s mouth was close enough that she felt his breath against her hair, and she shivered, unnerved again.
    She turned and waved the paper at him. “Do you go to church?”
    His brows drew together. “Not often, why?”
    “The woman whose memoir I’m writing. She was a missionary. This is the name of the ministry her family founded when they were here. There’s no guarantee it’s the same...”
    Sebastian directed her to a black-topped table for two near the front windows, then pulled out her chair.
    “There’s a worship service tonight. Would you be interested in attending?”
    A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she wished she hadn’t asked him.
    “I haven’t been to a church service in some time,” he said, “but for the sake of your tour, I will be happy to escort you.” Then he whisked the paper out of her fingers and blinded her with a smile. “Café Melba has excellent French toast, with fresh bananas and pineapple. Do you like French toast?”
    “That sounds good.”
    He raised a hand and a server appeared. He requested two orders of French toast and two coffees. “Is there anything in particular you would like to see today?”
    She pondered his question. Everything she knew about Santiago she’d learned during her work on the memoir.
    “There’s the Presidential Palace, the Plaza de Armas, Santa Lucia Hill...” Sebastian prompted.
    Tansy shook her head. “I’d like to see the Parque Forestal.”
    A muscle in Sebastian’s jaw twitched, and she felt the need to explain. “It’s one of the places the woman I’m working with speaks of often. She would go there to pray, and to read her Bible, and just to get away.”
    “Anywhere else?”
    “Not that I can think of. I don’t really know very much about all the landmarks and such. The Parque Forestal sticks out in my mind because she has mentioned it so often.”
    Sebastian dipped his head. “Then we shall go there.”
    The server reappeared, distributed their plates and left.
    Tansy leaned forward and spoke softly. “Do you mind if