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Eight children. Holy Goddess. And here I’d thought Calvin was part of a big family because he was the middle child of five.
“My grandparents still live here,” he went on. “They built a casita on the property and moved there after my mom and dad had my oldest brother and needed a bigger house to live in. But don’t worry,” he added quickly, as if he’d detected a flash of concern on my face, “my grandparents aren’t coming to dinner tonight. I know better than to inflict my entire family on you at once.”
I managed to smile, even though I had to admit inwardly that this piece of information made me feel a bit better about life. All I said, though, was, “I’m not sure ‘inflict’ is a word you should use when you talk about your family.”
His teeth flashed again. “You might want to wait and reassess that opinion until after you’ve dealt with the whole gang. When my brothers and sisters and all their kids get together, it can be kind of overwhelming…and I’m saying that as someone who’s used to them.”
Well, he had a point there. I’d sort of lost count of how many of them there were — especially since there seemed to be new babies either arriving or on the way at any given time — but we were probably talking about at least a group of thirty or more.
I reflected it was a good thing the San Ramon Apache had plenty of land. At the rate their people were going, they were going to need all of it.
Calvin slowed the Durango. Up ahead, lights glimmered in the darkness, and in the next moment, we came out onto a large open area, covered in gravel, where an older-model Ford F-150 and a dusty Subaru were parked. As far as I could tell, the house didn’t seem to have a garage.
But it was an impressive-looking place despite that, low and sprawling and built in the traditional Southwest pueblo style like Calvin’s house, although obviously much bigger. A wreath of autumn leaves adorned the door, and a couple of pumpkins sat in the red-tiled entry, where a pair of wrought-iron lamps glowed, warm and welcoming.
I hoped they were a harbinger of the reception I would meet once I was inside.
Calvin glanced over at me. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
Whether or not my tone convinced him, I wasn’t sure, but he opened the door and got out, and I followed suit. Our footsteps crunched against the gravel as we made our way to the front door. Calvin paused there, knocked, then called out, “We’re here!” before letting us in.
Gleaming Saltillo tile stretched out in front of us. The walls were white, but you could barely see the plaster because they were covered in gorgeous full-size canvases of various Southwestern themes — cacti and canyons, wild horses running on a mesa, solemn, beautiful Native American women in traditional dress.
I must have made some sound, because Calvin said in a murmur, “Those are my mother’s pieces.”
“They’re amazing,” I replied, somewhat astonished. Not that she should be so talented, but that I knew I’d never seen any of her work before. Surely paintings of this caliber should have been displayed in one of the local galleries.
“Thanks.”
We didn’t have a chance to say anything more than that, however, because in the next moment, Calvin’s parents came down the hall to meet us. I saw the resemblance right away — Calvin had his father’s height and strongly marked brows, although his more elegant nose and sculpted mouth had definitely been an inheritance from his mother.
“Hello, Selena,” Calvin’s mother said. She was wearing a black wrap dress and a multi-strand necklace of heishi beads and carved bird fetishes. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Delia, and this is my husband Raymond.”
I awkwardly put out a hand to shake since I didn’t know what else to do. Offering a hug seemed sort of inappropriate, especially considering how dignified and almost intimidating both Calvin’s parents had turned out to be. You’d think he would at least have told me his mother was a world-class artist.
But I didn’t have time to be too annoyed, because Raymond greeted me then, and I told both of them that it was very nice to meet them as well, and how kind it was for them to have invited me to dinner.
They smiled, although something about those smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes. Delia said, “Dinner’s just about ready. Let’s all go into the dining room.”
Calvin and I followed them down the hall, passing rooms that looked like a family room, the living room, even a library and a small, nearly empty space with an easel that I guessed must be Delia’s studio. All the doors opened on one side of the hallway, while the other boasted a series of windows that looked out onto a courtyard. Because it was so dark, I couldn’t see much, but I thought a number of trees grew there, and low landscape lighting showed glinting movement that I guessed was a water feature of some sort.
The dining room itself was a large chamber with a long table that boasted twelve chairs. Even so, it probably wasn’t big enough to accommodate all of Calvin’s immediate family. The children would most likely have to sit at a kiddie table.
A large chandelier of wrought iron hung over the table, and was studded with real taper candles that cast a flickering light around the room. More of Delia’s paintings hung on the walls here, although they were interspersed with Mexican punched-tin mirrors and sconces from which more candles flickered.
“You two can sit over there,” Delia said, pointing to two place settings next to one another on the right side of the table.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked. Even though most of the time those sorts of offers got shot down, I always wanted to make the gesture.
As I’d expected, Delia gave me another of those cool smiles and shook her head. “No, I just need to carry out a couple of dishes, and Raymond will help me with that. You go ahead and sit down.”
I nodded, and Calvin and I took the two chairs she’d indicated. A bottle of cabernet was already airing near the center of the table, which was otherwise dominated by a long wooden candleholder from which a half-dozen pillar candles glowed.
Clearly, Delia Standingbear liked her candles. Maybe she would turn out to be a kindred spirit, even if I had to admit she seemed too reserved for that kind of friendliness.
Calvin and I went ahead and put our napkins in our laps. A moment later, Raymond and Delia returned. He was carrying a platter with a large slab of smoked brisket on it, and Delia had a bowl of salad in one hand and a bowl of some kind of beans in the other.
