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“She thought it would be better to approach you through me,” Maggie explained. “Coming here brought back so many sad memories, and she’s overwhelmed.”
Overwhelmed herself, Libby understood completely. She’d worn the pale orange top and the matching skirt that blurred orange to red to inspire an upbeat mood. She made herself comfortable on the sofa, crossed her legs, smoothed the skirt over her knee and bounced her foot. In a way, she welcomed a problem they hadn’t foreseen. “What’s the age of consent in Britain?”
“Sixteen,” Maggie answered. “We looked it up, but it’s only thirteen here.”
“We know.” Santos lowered himself into the vacant black leather chair. “What does your mother expect you to convince me to do?”
“Whatever you can to discourage Fox so he won’t be so eager to have Patricia come to London. That way, Patricia will think it’s his idea that she stays home rather than our parents’.”
Libby looked at Santos, who was clearly perplexed, and shook her head. “No one should ask Santos to break up a teenage romance. I think we should all stay out of it. Patricia can’t go to London if our mom and dad won’t pay for it. Can’t Patricia grasp something that basic?”
“Patricia has money saved,” Maggie said. “She couldn’t pay for school, but she could fly to London, stay in youth hostels and find work there.” Rafael refilled Maggie’s wineglass, but Libby hadn’t taken a sip from hers.
“And spend the weekends in bed with her Brit boyfriend?” Santos raked his fingers through his hair. “Fox is only seventeen, and he’s too young to lose himself in an American girlfriend. He’ll go to university because his mother expected it of him. She didn’t care whether it was Oxford or Cambridge, but he can’t let his schoolwork slide next year. I’ll talk to Patricia and make her see how badly she’d hurt Fox if she went to Lond
on and he did too poorly in school to enter university next fall.”
“What are you going to say to Fox?” Rafael asked.
“Nothing. He can’t know we were talking about him behind his back, so I won’t admit to knowing anything about what’s happening between the two of them. I won’t offer advice unless he asks for it, but I probably won’t see him again until Christmas.”
“He’ll find out you were in on it someday, and he’ll be furious then,” Libby interjected.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Santos argued.
Libby lifted a brow, regarded him with a knowing smile, and he rolled his eyes rather than acknowledge she already had. She continued, “I’ll tell Patricia what high expectations Fox’s late mother had for him. If she really cares for him, she won’t want to ruin his future.”
Maggie looked up at her husband. “It does make more sense for Libby to call Patricia. Fox doesn’t consider himself part of the Aragon family, and I’d hate to see his relationship with Santos ruined. If Patricia thinks she’s doing what’s best for Fox, she’s the heroine of the story. Now what’s happened here? Have the police caught whoever held the mirror?”
“There’s a good chance they have,” Santos answered. “We have reservations for a seafood restaurant up the coast. Let’s go and talk about Granada while we eat. I’ve had enough problems for the evening.”
Libby finally tasted her icy-cold wine. “This is awfully good.”
“I’m glad you like it. The Aragon Trust invested in the vineyard. They just sent us a case,” Santos replied. “There were vineyards in Spain when the Romans arrived.”
Libby took another sip. “I don’t believe ‘arrived’ is a strong enough word.”
Santos nodded toward the door. “They stormed across our land intent upon slaughtering the Carthaginians. Is that better?”
Rafael winked at Maggie and took her arm as they left the den. Ready to follow, Libby placed her glass on the coffee table. “Convincing Patricia to behave responsibly might not be as easy as I made it sound, but I’ll keep working on it.”
“Thank you,” Santos replied, “but you don’t have to keep me out of it.”
“What sort of advice have you given Fox in the past?”
Chagrined, he shook his head. “Obviously nothing valuable.”
The restaurant was on the coast, and they had a glorious view of the sea from their booth. The seafood on the menu had been caught that day, and while Maggie and Rafael ordered the paella, Tomas made the seafood rice dish so well, Libby wanted something different. “What about the parrillada de mariscos. Is that good?” she asked.
“It’s a variety of shellfish grilled on a barbecue,” Santos explained. “It’s always good, or the suquet. It’s a fish and seafood stew with saffron, wine and tomatoes. Why don’t you order one, and I’ll order the other, and we’ll share?”
“Fine, both sound delicious.” Libby waited until the waiter had taken their orders and served their wine before she spoke to Rafael. “I didn’t have a chance to say how much I admired you for telling our parents about your past. It could have cost you dearly.”
“No, it couldn’t,” Maggie quickly denied. “I would have kept talking until they realized how much I love him.”
Rafael hugged his wife. “Prison time is too important to hide, and I would have kept talking too.”
Santos leaned back and gazed out the window. “Rather than complimenting your honesty, she’s trying to force me to say more than I want to tonight.”
