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“A great deal, apparently,” Carmen murmured under her breath and flashed a brief self-satisfied smirk. “I wondered what you thought of your father.”
All eyes were now on Maggie, and she blushed as she fought to provide a meaningful reply that would reveal none of the anguish he’d caused her. “I’m sorry to find him so ill,” she responded.
“We are all praying for a miracle,” Carmen confided. “Did your mother keep her promise to raise you in the Catholic faith?”
Maggie shot Santos an anxious glance, but he appeared to be as startled as she. “Well, no. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
Carmen sighed impatiently. “It doesn’t surprise me, but it’s unfortunate when we are such a devout family.”
Maggie nearly laughed out loud and was amazed her grandmother could continue eating her dessert without choking. It was no wonder Carmen was so shortsighted when she looked down her nose at everyone. “You must have been heartbroken when my parents divorced.”
Carmen’s eyes widened slightly, inspiring Maggie to continue. “Or, for that matter, each time my father went through a divorce. You’re divorced as well, aren’t you, Aunt Cirilda?”
“Divorce is not a subject discussed at this table,” Carmen announced, and with a graceful rise and turn, she left the room without wishing anyone a good night.
Santos broke into a broad grin. “Score one for our side.”
Cirilda’s already proud posture stiffened. “You must pay no attention to Santos’s tasteless ramblings,” she cautioned. “He has the manners of a pig.”
“And you’re my favorite aunt,” Santos taunted, “but as you say, I have no taste.”
Cirilda’s hostile glare was nearly as malevolent as her mother’s, and just as swiftly, she exited the room. The twins held their napkins over their mouths to muffle their laughter, but Maggie couldn’t appreciate the humor in the situation.
“How can you stand living here?” she asked Santos.
“I don’t, usually. I have my own apartment, but now Father needs me to be close.” He finished the last bite of the berries and then smiled at the twins. “Want to go dancing? It’s early, and we can go to the Caves.”
“What caves?” Maggie asked. The fair teenagers reminded her of her half sisters in Minnesota. They resembled their mother rather than Miguel, and there was no family resemblance between them and Maggie.
“They aren’t real caves,” Perry replied. “It’s a restaurant with entertainment for tourists. Can Maggie go with us, Santos?”
Santos slid his arm around Maggie’s shoulders and gave her a fond squeeze. “Of course, she can.”
“Another time, perhaps,” Maggie apologized. “Father asked me to come talk with him again.”
Santos’s voice softened with his expression. “It’s still early for us, but he won’t be awake now, Maggie. Go up and check if you’d like. You’ll find him asleep, and you shouldn’t wake him just to chat. He’ll have time for you tomorrow. At least, we all hope he will.”
Maggie understood his admonition without needing to peek into their father’s room. She was tired but wouldn’t be able to sleep and joined in Santos’s plan. She’d changed into a simple black dress for dinner, but it hadn’t compared to her grandmother’s and aunt’s exquisite designer gowns, or the twins’ avant-garde garb. Still, she was comfortable and thought her clothes adequate for the rest of the evening.
“All right, then,” she agreed. “I’d like to come along, but I’m surprised you’d want to mingle with tourists.”
“Tourists don’t recognize me as easily as Spaniards do,” Santos explained. “I can be myself among them.”
That he did not curry the celebrity that came with his profession surprised her. As they left the table, she looped her arm through his and mentally confirmed her promise to stay in touch.
Built of glass and stone, the Caves overlooked the sea, and the midnight blue walls curved to create an impression of an ancient grotto. Moonlight reflected off the water imparted a sparkling serenity, but the music of the live rock band was thunderously loud. With arms raised, the couples crowding the dance floor were bumping hips and moving in time to a song Maggie recognized from home. Anxious to dance, Esperanza and Consuelo left them as soon as they had been shown to a table, but Maggie was content to watch.
Santos leaned close to be heard. “What do you think of our little sisters?”
“You’re right. They’re much too thin and wear too much makeup, but they’re charming girls, and I like them.”
“Good. Do you like me too?”
As Maggie gave him a playful shove, a familiar figure moved out on the dance floor. She was astonished to find Rafael Mondragon partying with tourists but even more so by her own inability to look away. He was dancing with a redhead with tightly coiled curls, while a blonde with long, flowing hair mirrored his motions from behind. It was a provocative sandwich and perfectly timed to the music.
Rafael wore a wide grin and with such a lighthearted expression, he was even more handsome than she’d thought him to be. He turned then to face the blonde, and without missing a beat, the redhead pressed close to his back, and the three continued dancing together.
Maggie stole a glance at Santos, but, apparently unaware of Rafael’s presence, he was waving to the twins who were on the dance floor’s nearest corner. Relieved she hadn’t been observed, Maggie resumed watching Rafael and his pretty partners. Flamenco dancing was wildly romantic, and she was accustomed to pacing her own steps to her partner’s, but with rock’s driving beat, the dancing was far more primitively erotic than anything she ever performed. Rafael danced with a relaxed flair, and when the others on the floor moved back to give him and his women more room, Maggie had a better view. All too quickly, the band brought the number to a booming close, and the drummer announced a short break.
