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Peter shook his hand firmly. “What would you have done if I’d forbidden the match?”
“Maggie and I would have married anyway.”
Peter shook his head. “It wouldn’t be wise to confide that either.”
“I understand.” Rafael opened the door and stood aside. There was still a whole lot he wasn’t revealing, but for now, his murder conviction would be enough. Having survived that onerous chore, he left and would wait to see Maggie later.
Linda had brought a tailored suit in a luscious apricot shade, but she looked through the clothes at the boutique and pulled out the skirt with the floral pattern Libby had tried on. “This is pretty.”
Patricia was holding a dress with alternating bands of white and bright pink eyelet mixed with a pink floral fabric. “Why don’t you buy it? I want to try on this.”
“Is that too brigh
t, Maggie?” her mother asked.
“No, not at all. We’ll be on the beach with the ocean for a backdrop, and whatever Patricia wants will be fine.”
Carmela joined them at her enthusiastic best. “What a beautiful family you have. Are you dressing for a special occasion?”
“No,” Maggie insisted quickly. “We’re planning a dinner together.”
“How wonderful. Please let me know if you need another size.”
Linda waited until the clerk had walked away and then whispered, “Is the wedding a secret for some reason?”
Maggie answered just as softly. “Yes, Santos and Rafael are well-known, and we don’t want any tacky press coverage.”
“I see. What are you going to wear, Libby?”
Libby waited for Patricia to choose, and once her sister had bought the colorful pink-and-white dress, she chose a long lime-green skirt and scooped-neck top that would pick up the green in Patricia’s dress. She was so tall she usually stood out, but for the wedding, she wanted to fade into the background. There had never been a competition between the sisters, probably because their looks and personalities were so different. Now, knowing Santos had grown up in his father’s very long shadow made him easier to understand, if not resist. She smiled as they walked back up the beach, carrying their packages, but Santos was never more than a blink away from her mind. She remembered his luscious kisses and licked her lips. She’d never felt such a strong attraction to another man, and repeatedly warning herself he was Mr. Wrong just wasn’t working.
Santos joined the Gundersons for lunch. He took his place at the head of the table and slid his crutches under his chair. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Linda insisted. “I hadn’t seen Miguel since we separated in college, and I should have expected you to resemble him.”
Maggie praised the seafood salad to quickly guide the conversation away from Santos. “Tomas is such a wonderful chef, but I keep changing my mind about what to ask him to prepare for the wedding dinner.”
“How many of us are there going to be?” Peter asked.
“All of us, plus Rafael and a doctor friend who’ll be his best man. Our aunt Cirilda and her ex-husband—she’s marrying him again.” She glanced toward Santos.
“I’ve invited a few guests. Don’t worry, Tomas always prepares more than we can eat, and we never run out of champagne. I meant to offer to provide the musicians. They can play in the house if not on the beach. What about strings, maybe with a flute, something very elegant, perhaps a guitar if you’re inspired to dance flamenco.”
“I’d love to see you dance,” Linda said.
Maggie took a sip of tea. “I’ll ask Rafael to dance with me.”
Peter paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “He dances?”
“Yes,” Santos answered. “That’s why Maggie likes him.”
“It’s more than his dancing,” she assured him, “but he is spectacularly good.”
“I bet he’s spectacularly good at everything,” Patricia posed under her breath. “Why do we have to wait until Saturday to see you two dance? What’s wrong with tonight?”
“I suppose we could,” Maggie admitted, but she’d downplay her role as she had at Bailaora.
“What about flowers?” Libby asked.
