A Well-Structured Life

By L. M. Gonzalez

Claudia Molina lives a calendar-driven life, every day the same, to protect her heart. A broken marriage and her son's death have made her wary of men. She has her pristine house, her book club, and her accounting job—which includes a most untypical client.
Blake Campos lost his management position three years ago after a nasty divorce, and now he's a truck driver. Women are only a momentary pleasure and motorcycles are for fun and for helping others while he's set on getting another corporate job.
Until the day they meet…

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jul 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509231713

L. M. Gonzalez

L.M. Gonzalez writes about the loves and lives of women and the challenges of romance the second time around. Her stories, set against a backdrop of strong Latino culture blended with an American lifestyle, are refreshing and capture the essence of everyday Hispanic life.

Book preview

Inc.

Hi, Claudia. Lucinda ran to her and hugged her. Her friend had her black hair up in a ponytail and wore a short red dress and denim jacket. Claudia envied her sense of style. You’re here. We’ve been waiting over there by the bar. You know that’s where we would be.

Claudia disengaged herself from her friend’s arms. It’s okay. I barely arrived. She spotted Joe. Lucinda’s husband, more subdued than his wife, wore jeans and a purple long-sleeved tee, his grayish-black hair a bit mussed. He walked up and hugged her.

We want you to meet someone, Lucinda said.

Oh, Luce, Claudia said. Please don’t tell me you’ve set me up again. Who is he this time? Will you ever run out of men to introduce me to? You said you wanted me to have excitement in my life, not complications.

He’s not complicated, but he could be exciting if you let yourself go. Lucinda grinned. He’s a man. And you need one.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Claudia looked up to see her problem client strolling toward them, a bag in his hand, no bandana or helmet. Oh, no! Not him. It couldn’t be.

Here he is. Lucinda rushed to greet him and hug him. Come here, Blake. I want you to meet a friend of mine.

Claudia stared up at Blake’s face. A look of disbelief glimmered in his eyes.

This is— Lucinda began.

We’ve met. He grinned. Haven’t we, darling?

Praise for L. M. Gonzalez and…

TOO LATE FOR ROMANCE:

Love can happen at any age and this story proves it!

~Krista, Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance

~*~

I enjoyed the realism in the story, it wasn’t all a bed of roses.

~Mimi, Night Owl Romance Reviews

A

Well-Structured Life

by

L. M. Gonzalez

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

A Well-Structured Life

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Lupe M. Gonzalez

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Champagne Rose Edition, 2020

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3171-3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To my family

for their continued support of my writing

Chapter 1

Claudia parked in her usual spot and strolled to the office, absently glancing at the sign on the door, Stanton Accounting, Martin Stanton, C.P.A. Claudia had worked for him for the past three years as an accounting clerk.

The chill in the air signaled it was still what passed for a January winter in San Antonio, Texas, but she liked it. She could wait for the muggy heat of summer.

Good morning, Ellen, she greeted.

The office manager, Ellen Chavez, smiled and waved, already on the phone. She’d worked with Martin for over ten years.

The door Claudia walked through led to the back office, where eight cubicles were arranged by twos, four on each side of the room. Hers was the one at the left end. Unlike most accounting offices, Mr. Stanton had opted for a back office with windows. Not that she ever had time to glance out, but at least she didn’t feel so closed in. At her desk, Claudia put her purse in the bottom drawer and sat down. She turned her computer on with a press of a button.

While she waited for it to boot up, Claudia glanced at her calendar and double-checked her appointments for the day. At 8:30, Blake Campos—she always took note of her schedule. She didn’t like surprises. Afterwards, she would have an appointment every two hours. Lunch was at one for her.

Lolly Westover, another of the four accounting clerks, walked in, or more accurately, stumbled in. Oh, these shoes. I should throw them away. I always forget one of the soles came unglued. I’ll be tripping about all day long.

Good morning to you, too. Mary Ramon grinned. She’d followed Lolly in.

Who has time to see if it’s morning, or not? Since the kids got home from school yesterday, I haven’t stopped moving. I’m not sure I even slept. Lolly, her curly auburn hair in disarray, flopped down on her chair.

Claudia couldn’t help seeing her, as Lolly’s cubicle stood directly opposite hers. Sometimes, however, the young mom was too much for Claudia to handle in the mornings. Those were the times she would go to the kitchen and make a second cup of tea. Smiling and trying not to look as if she were running away, Claudia took her mug and walked away. The sound of Lolly’s story of one of her kids thinking he could get away with not doing his homework faded away.

In the kitchen, Claudia sighed and closed her eyes. Immediately, she saw Tommy and heard his voice, Mama, I can’t tie my shoe. She quickly opened them and poured hot water into her mug from the filter machine. By the time she returned to her desk, Lolly had settled in and begun to work. How could she possibly get anything accomplished in all the chaos? The other woman had stacks of papers all over her desk, lopsided piles threatening to spill onto the floor.

Mr. Stanton didn’t normally come in until after lunch; his morning was usually tied up in meetings with potential clients. Thursday mornings, though, were the exception and her boss should be in his office, but he wasn’t in yet. She wondered where he was. However, Claudia had more important things to do. Like get ready for her 8:30 appointment, who should arrive in the next five minutes.

Eight-thirty came and went, however. Late appointments were almost unheard of for Claudia. Where was Blake Campos? She called Ellen, but she hadn’t heard from him.

And suddenly, he arrived. She heard the jingle of the front door opening and Ellen’s normally sedate greeting elevate to a high pitch. Why, Mr. Campos, we were beginning to worry about you.

Claudia frowned. What was the matter with Ellen? She was a married woman, after all. And no one had worried about Mr. Blake Campos. She preferred order in her life.

Claudia. Ellen walked in leading the man toward her desk. Your 8:30 is here. Here, Mr. Campos, have a seat, and Claudia will help you.

The man strolled in with a huge black backpack he held with one brawny arm; with the other hand, he carried a helmet. He wore faded jeans, torn at the knees, a bandana tied around his head, and shades with reflective lenses—and sweat glistened on his face. He threw the backpack, which bore the phrase Los Ninos Perdidos (The Lost Children) on the front of it, on the floor by the side of Claudia’s desk. She jumped away, and her hand brushed her tea mug. It toppled over and liquid began sliding toward the forms she’d set aside to complete for her 8:30 appointment—this man’s appointment.

Hey, I’m sorry, darling, he said, and his deep velvety voice reached her ears. Let me help you.

No, thank you. Claudia wished she could tell him to go away. He didn’t belong in her world. Her well-structured world.

I haven’t had a very good morning, but it’s no excuse to ruin your day, is it? He continued to clean up the mess on her desk with the papers she needed. Now she’d have to go get more. Her days did not go like this.

Will you please sit down, Mr…Mr… She stopped. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember his name.

Blake, he said. His voice surrounded her, like the jazzy strains of a saxophone crescendoing to a heart-wrenching musical triumph, which always made her cry. And she hated it.

Campos! Mr. Campos, she emphasized. "Please