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“No, but they cost thousands. Your dress wasn’t that much.”
“Then perhaps that was a poor example, but you don’t want expensive gifts either. Does that make sense?”
“No, neither of us has to buy the other’s love, so what difference does it make who pays for what?”
She’d said affections, not love, and his question threw her off-balance. “Let’s not debate the issue. I’ll handle the matter with Ana.”
“But she’s already been paid.”
“She can pay you back when I pay her.”
He scoffed at that prospect. “What makes you think she would?”
“What makes you think she wouldn’t?”
He kissed her to stop their disagreement before it became tiresome. “I swear you have a Gypsy’s passion, but save it for later.”
He was out the door before she caught her breath. Amazingly energized, she looked down at her bare feet and thought with the new shoes, she might be able to dance with Rafael after all. It had all begun with that first dance at the Caves. Or it could have begun years earlier when she’d first taken flamenco lessons. She didn’t really believe in fate, but she’d so easily danced into Rafael’s arms. She turned to give her new dress a dramatic swirl. She’d been such a serious person in Tucson, but here in Spain, she was someone new. Maybe the person she was meant to be all along.
Ana had supplied three pairs of dance shoes, and one was her size, the others close. Either the woman had an incredible eye, or she’d checked the shoes Maggie had left in her room.
There were taps on the heels and toes. Narrow straps crossed the instep so a dancer could stamp and kick without tossing an errant shoe into the audience. She danced into the bathroom to add another coat of mascara and was glad she’d packed her new castanets.
When she came downstairs, the others were seated in the living room. The furniture was large and comfortable, and woven rugs in rich browns and reds covered the hardwood floor. While they’d all changed their clothes for dinner, she felt overdressed.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Ana exclaimed. She’d been sitting on the arm of Santos’s chair, and she leaped up to walk to her. She wore a short, sky-blue dress that matched her eyes and a new pair of platform heels in a wild combination of animal prints. “Will you dance for us? There must be someone on the ranch who can play the guitar.”
Santos had stood when Maggie entered the room, and he opened the large wooden cabinet against the wall. “We’ve plenty of guitar music here on albums and a turntable that still works.”
“A turntable, like DJs have?” Fox asked, and he observed Santos closely to learn how to use it.
Rafael, standing by the window, sent Maggie a questioning glance. “You look very beautiful, but if you’d rather not dance, we don’t have to.”
Santos looked over his shoulder. “She doesn’t need you, Mondragon.”
“Wait,” Ana interjected. “I have my camera, so let me take some photos first.” She swung a straight-backed chair around. “Why don’t you sit down here, Magdalena, and Fox, will you bring that other chair for Santos? I want you seated back-to-back but looking over your shoulders at me.”
Fox was so eager to please her he nearly threw the chair into place. Maggie sat down, adjusted the drape of her skirt and waited for Santos to join her. “Please make a copy for me. I’d like to show everyone at home. I want a photo with you too, Fox. Maybe you could take one of Rafael and me while we’re dancing.”
“Now we have a whole photography studio,” Santos muttered under his breath, but he took his chair.
“Hush,” Ana said. “We want these to be good.” Taking her time, she worked from several angles and adjusted their poses accordingly. “Now, why don’t you stand right here with Fox, Magdalena? The landscape painting will make a nice background.”
Fox had dressed in clean sports clothes for dinner and spiked his hair the way he liked it. He shuffled his feet as though he were reluctant to pose, but he managed a smile for Ana. She took several photos, then turned to Rafael. “I want you two dancing. Flamenco is a starburst of energy, and you shouldn’t be posed standing still.”
“A starburst,” Rafael murmured. “Another challenge.”
Fox pulled the furniture out of th
e way and rolled up a rug to give them a dance floor. Rafael nodded to Santos to start the music, then waited for Maggie to set the pace with her footsteps and castanets.
Santos clapped the rhythm, and Fox joined in while Ana peered through her camera lens seeking perfect shots as Maggie and Rafael danced with their usual intensity and grace. “Yes, that’s it,” she called. “Pretend I’m not here.”
With Rafael bumping her hip whenever he caught the chance, Maggie found it a simple matter to ignore Ana. The room could have been crowded with ranch hands, and she’d still have seen only Rafael. He certainly stood in the center of his life with a bravado most men would envy. She knew her part in the dance, but her life was spinning like a top, with a constantly shifting center.
When the music ended, Rafael dipped her for an affectionate kiss, then hugged her to his side. She was surprised by the applause, but Refugio and his helpers in the kitchen had come out to watch. Mrs. Lujan, in a dark dress for the evening, stood in the dining room doorway, applauding enthusiastically. Fox was beside Ana, looking at her camera, but Santos’s angry frown made his hostile reaction to their dancing plain.
“We are ready to serve dinner,” Mrs. Lujan announced.
