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Lucas took the phone from his ear, stared at it as if he might see Felix’s face if he tried hard enough, then sank down in a chair.
“You know about the marriage contract,” he said, switching to Spanish.
“Of course.”
“But why?”
“You know the reasons, Lucas. You are not getting younger.”
“I am thirty-two.” Yes, Lucas thought, but right now, he sounded twelve. “I am thirty-two,” he said, more forcefully, “and before you make the speech you’ve made before, si,I know of my responsibilities. I know it is my duty to carry on the Reyes name. I know—”
“Perhaps it is better to say, I am not getting younger.”
“Grandfather…”
“She is of excellent stock. She is handsome. She is healthy.” Felix’s tone turned sly. “And I have been assured, she is a virgin.”
Lucas shot another look at the woman. A virgin? A woman who burned like a flame in a man’s arms? It was nothing but another lie.
“…ask, Lucas?”
Lucas cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, abuelo. I didn’t get that. What did you say?”
“I said, what more could a man ask?”
“The right to make my own choices,” Lucas said firmly. “I am sorry, Grandfather, No voy a casar a esta mujer!”
The words, “I am not going to marry this woman,” seemed to echo through the room. He shot a sharp glance at Alyssa McDonough. Her expression had not changed. Of course not, he thought with relief. She didn’t understand a word of his language.
“You are a grown man, Lucas. Do as you wish.”
“Fine. I will see you tomorrow, then, in late—”
“You understand, you are not to pay the lawyer—the executor—the balance of the sale price for the ranch.”
Lucas nodded. Felix was lucid. That, too, was a relief.
“Of course I understand. You overpaid the initial amount as it is.”
“It was part of the arrangement, Lucas. Did you read the contract? If you did, read it again, more calmly this time, and you will see that if the marriage does not take place, we owe nothing more.”
“Excellent.”
“Yes. Just as long as you understand…” Felix coughed. The cough was deep and wet; it went on for a long time while Lucas frowned.
“Grandfather? Are you ill?”
Again, he heard muffled conversation. And, again, his grandfather’s voice, not coughing now but somehow weaker.
“I am fine,” the old man said briskly. “Where were we? Ah, yes. You will not give Thaddeus Norton the money.”
“Trust me, Grandfather. I had no intention of it. As I said, you already gave them too much.”
“It went to Aloysius. To pay for half the back taxes on the ranch. The bank will take the place now, to make up for the rest. There’s a developer eager to plow all the acreage under.”
“What the bank does is not our concern, Grandfather.”
“I agree. The girl cares—she has some sentimental attachment to the land—but that, too, is not our concern.”
