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“Maybe,” Libby replied. The boutique had a colorful abundance of party clothes, and while she was afraid the tiered skirts might be too short, she found several that brushed her ankles. “What about this one? I love the big roses on the skirt.”
“That’s a vintage print,” Carmela interjected. “All the designers are showing floral prints for the fall. You could wear it with a pale sweater now and a dark green top later to pick up the color in the leaves.”
Libby stepped into a fitting room to try it on and came out to turn in front of the full-length mirror. “This is pretty, but now that I see it on, it’s too sweet for me. I think I’ll try on the aqua tie-dye. I could wear it with a black or aqua top.”
Carmela left them to see to a pretty young woman with long black hair who’d entered the shop, and Maggie used the shop’s padded bench to wait. She tugged on her sleeves to cover the telltale scars. When she looked up, Libby came out of the dressing room to make a quick twirl and again shook her head.
“This isn’t quite right, is it?”
“It’s pretty,” Maggie said.
“But if Patricia wants the rose skirt, this will look silly beside it. Maybe we should wait and shop with her.”
Maggie covered a yawn. “We could, and she might bring something she wants to wear.”
“She couldn’t make up her mind when I left, but if she does bring a dress, I’ll find something in the same color or close. Is there a place to get ice cream or yogurt nearby?”
“Yes, just up the walk.”
Maggie ordered chocolate ice cream and Libby raspberry sorbet. She licked the sweet icy treat from her spoon. The last few years, she’d only seen Maggie during the winter holidays and briefly during the summer. Her older sister had always been the serious one, but when she was with Rafael, there was a newfound joy in her expression and mood. She’d never seen her so happy, but Rafael’s history still gave her pause. “Is this really going to happen, Maggie?”
Maggie smiled with the sheer joy of it. “Yes, it is, regardless of what you wear.”
“I’m worried about you, not clothes. You’ve always been so level-headed and practical.”
“Not the type to run off with a matador?” Maggie swirled her spoon in her ice cream. “I know it’s an outrageous thing to do, but we’re doing it.”
“There’s no one is Arizona?”
Maggie shook her head. “I was dating our school counselor. I’ve talked to him a couple of times since coming here. He thinks I’ve lost my mind, but I wanted more than he could give.”
Libby raised a brow and leaned forward to whisper, “Rafael has more?”
Amusement lit Maggie’s eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, but in every way, Rafael and I are a better match.”
Libby hesitated briefly, then spoke her mind. “That’s what Mom thought about your father, but not for long.”
“She was nineteen, Patricia’s age. Can you imagine Patricia being married to anyone for long?”
“No. She has the focus of a mosquito, but I suppose eventually someone will catch her attention and hold it.”
“As long as it isn’t Santos,” Maggie sighed.
“Santos?” Libby concentrated on the last drop of her sorbet. “If he dated Ana Santillan, he must prefer more sophisticated women.”
“Yes, but he swears he’ll never marry, and after the way our father shuffled families, he must mean it.”
“He may, but wouldn’t most of the girls he dates try to convince him otherwise?”
“Probably, as long as you and Patricia aren’t among them.”
Libby shrugged and attempted to sound sincere. “I’m not staying in Spain long enough to bother.”
“I thought the same thing,” Maggie reminded her. “Rafael changed my mind.”
Libby set her empty cup and spoon aside. “Rafael would catch any woman’s notice. But if he’s been in prison, aren’t you worried he might become violent?”
Maggie leaned back in the booth. “No, he blames himself for not protecting his sister. He doesn’t walk around looking for a fight, and he’d never harm a woman.”
