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“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” Maggie asked.
Perry blushed. “Sure, be careful and use condoms, we know that. But who’d want to sleep with Fox?”
“He’s cute,” Connie said, “but he’s our brother even if he won’t admit it. Now tell us what happened with Rafael. Don’t hold out on us.”
“He took me to a place with talented dancers, and then we came home. Unless you love flamenco the way I do, there was no excitement at all.”
The twins shook their heads. “There’s got to be more.”
“That’s enough for you. Now hurry on to bed.”
They race
d up the stairs ahead of her and were already in their room when she reached the landing. She closed her bedroom door and leaned back against it. Her lips still tingled from Rafael’s endearing affection. Clearly he hadn’t been equally touched because when Santos had interrupted them, he’d quickly reverted to his usual abrasive, cocky self.
She checked the time. It was already late Monday morning in Tucson and she’d missed her chance to call Craig. She was tempted to leave him a voice message. Her father was dying, her relatives could not be easily described, and she’d met a Gypsy matador whose motives were suspect. It wasn’t a call worth making when he’d be busy with the last couple of weeks of school, but she wished she’d thought to bring a journal. She’d noticed a desk in the den, and, hoping to find some of her father’s stationery, she went back downstairs. She turned on the lamp on the desk and opened the middle drawer.
Cirilda stepped into the room. “Miguel’s will is in a safety deposit box at his bank, not here.”
Maggie looked up. “I wasn’t snooping. I just wanted a few sheets of stationery.”
Cirilda turned around and walked out without commenting, and Maggie swore softly. There was no point in trying to befriend her aunt when the woman was mean-spirited to the core, like her mother. Compared to them, Miguel was a veritable prince.
She found the stationery still in its box in a side drawer, took some and turned out the light.
She joined her father for breakfast the next morning. She hadn’t slept well but couldn’t just lie in bed until noon. There were delicious little muffins and fresh fruit, and she was surprisingly hungry. “Would you tell me something about your father?” she asked. “You mentioned he was a matador, but what sort of man was he?”
“Ah yes, of course, you’d be curious. I’m a pale shadow compared to Augustín. He fought only a few years and retired to our ranch in Zaragoza. He refused interviews but worked on a memoir he never completed. He taught me all he knew of the ring and life and encouraged me to be my own man.”
He paused to swallow a drink of freshly squeezed orange juice. “I’m sorry to say he and my mother weren’t a good match. I never heard him speak a cross word to her, but there was no love shown between them, no laughter nor joy. She was from a fine family, and they welcomed him, but you’ve met my mother so perhaps you understand why they weren’t a happy couple. A heart attack killed him when he was still in his fifties. Cirilda should show you the family photographs, but most of his things are at the ranch.”
“I’ll ask to see them.” She wanted to discover whatever she could about her father’s side of the family. Carmen was such a caustic person, Maggie’s sympathies were already with Augustín. If he’d written a memoir, she definitely wanted to read it. She swallowed the last berry on her plate and licked her lips. Perhaps it was the sea air, but everything tasted delicious here.
“What else would you like to know?”
She sat back in her chair and grabbed what might be her only chance to ask about Rafael. She told him they’d danced together. “What do you think of him?”
Miguel leaned close to take her hand. “He’s a promising talent but doesn’t take criticism well. He could be among the greatest or never move past the remarkably good. He has the ambition, and it’s a shame he didn’t work with me when he was younger. Now, what do you think of him?”
She squeezed his hand. “I haven’t decided yet.”
His smile turned sly. “You must feel something or you wouldn’t have asked about him.”
The ocean’s rumbling melody in the distance made the conversation no easier. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, but I should probably avoid him.”
He laughed. “I’ve avoided few tempting women, so you don’t take after me. Antonio should be here soon. Why don’t you find Cirilda and ask for the photos you’d like to see?”
She kissed his cheek, noted his marvelous scent and feared Rafael Mondragon would be very difficult to avoid. She’d left her bed a pile of twisted sheets as ordered, but when she stopped by her room, the maid had already been there, and the bed was neatly made. She was used to a busy schedule with teaching. Having no plan for the day left her at loose ends. There were the photos or dance lessons for the twins; she could walk on the beach, read the books she’d brought along, but nothing struck her as urgent.
After last night’s brief exchange, she’d prefer to wait and speak to Cirilda at mealtimes rather than seek her out. She was too restless to remain indoors, and a different nurse than the one she’d seen on Saturday passed by her as she left her room. Perhaps they rotated often. Maggie wondered if they were really needed. They would be ready to serve in a medical emergency, but she dreaded one happening while she was there. She’d arrived thinking poorly of her father, but the real man was far more appealing than the one she’d created in her mind. He seemed resigned to his illness. If only he’d fight for his life rather than let it gradually slip away.
As she left the house, Rafael stood where he’d waited for her the previous day. His T-shirt and jeans showed off his trim build better than the looser dress clothes he’d worn last night for dancing, and she could have stood there and looked at him all day and not grown bored. His slow smile brought a warmth that swept from her toes and ended as a bright blush. Embarrassed by how strongly she reacted to him, she pretended only a mild surprise. “Are you here every morning?”
He shook his head, took her hand and led her toward the water. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t expect you to defend me. No one ever has. I should have thanked you, even if your help wasn’t needed.”
“Maybe I meant to protect Santos.”
“Then I misunderstood.”
