Free Blessed are the Meek by Kristi Belcamino

ledge. I’m about to go pull up the chair beside her when I notice another guy, a man with dirty blond hair and a rugged attractiveness.
    It looks like he is paying too much attention to Annalisa, but it is hard to tell exactly where he is looking because his gaze is hidden beneath dark glasses. He stands out from the crowd because he’s the only one dressed, and I don’t remember seeing him here earlier. He’s sitting with his feet in the water, wearing a tight T-­shirt and rolled-­up cargo pants. He has an intense look on his face, his lips clamped together.
    After a few seconds, he says something to a woman in the pool directly in his sight line between him and Annalisa. The woman swims over and stands between his knees. He leans down and gives her a long kiss. He must have been staring at his date, not Annalisa.
    I search the other faces, but nobody seems to stand out. What made Annalisa so agitated? I start to head over to the lawn chair, but the woman in the black bikini is gone. I search the heads in the pool but can’t find her anywhere.
    Grabbing a towel, I head toward the house, pretending to use the bathroom while I snoop for the black-­bikini woman. The house isn’t big, so I try every door on my way to the bathroom. Off the kitchen is a hallway with about five doors. All closed. I try the first one. As soon as I see the stairs leading down, probably to a wine cellar, fear spurts through me. I shut the door. No way.
    All the other rooms are empty. Where did she go? When I come across the bathroom, I decide to take advantage of the facilities. When I come out, I fling open the door and scream.
    The man from the pool in the dark sunglasses is standing there. He’s Robert-­Redford handsome with dirty blond hair brushed back and a strong jaw with a cleft in his chin.
    A low chuckle erupts from his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Isn’t this the bathroom?”
    I burst into nervous giggles. “You scared the daylights out of me.”
    He looks over his shoulder. “I’m surprised the whole party didn’t rush in to see what was the matter. You’ve got some pretty good lungs on you.”
    Even though he wears dark glasses, I feel his gaze rake over me, taking in every inch of my bare flesh. It sends a shiver down my spine. I grab my towel from my arm and wrap it snugly around my torso.
    He gives me a wry smile, the side of his mouth curling up. He takes a step closer, and I involuntarily shrink back.
    â€œThat’s too bad. I was enjoying the view.” His voice is low and seductive and sends a tremor through me. His body blocks the doorway. I swallow and look down.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œGabriella.”
    He is silent for a moment, then steps to the side.
    Rushing by, I barely catch his murmur: “Nice to meet you. I’m Mark.”
    N OT LO NG AFTER, Grant asks for our attention. After everyone quiets, and a maid passes out flutes of champagne, Grant whips away a black velvet cloth to reveal a five-­foot-­long white marble sculpture on a huge pedestal. The art piece is much like the smaller ones by Annalisa at the gallery, but this one’s a fountain. It features a voluptuous woman with long flowing hair leaning back with her back arched. The figure is lying on the edge of a pool of water, with one hand dipping into the water. It takes me a minute to figure it out, but the fingertips are resting on what looks like a whale’s head emerging from the water.
    â€œWhen I first met Annalisa, she told me a beautiful story from her childhood in Mexico that warmed my heart,” Grant says. ­People grow quiet. “I asked her several months ago to bring that story to life in a sculpture for me, and I’m honored to unveil it today. And I’m honored that Annalisa is here to share that story again.”
    Annalisa moves to Grant’s side.
    â€œWhen I was a little girl, my mama told