Tender Triumph

Katie paid for the sheets and coverlet she had just bought, while Gabriella delicately removed herself from the procedure that involved Katie's requesting duplicate bills, each for one-half the amount of her purchase, then paying for it using equal parts of Ramon's money and her own.

"I think Ramon will like the colors I chose for the bedroom, don't you?" Katie asked gaily as they slid into the car.

"He should," Gabriella said, turning in the seat to look at Katie with a smile. Her thick black hair was beautifully windblown and her eyes were bright. "Everything you buy is to suit him and not yourself. I would have bought the coverlet with the ruffles."

Katie, who was driving, glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling into the slow traffic, then she fired a wry look at Gabriella.

"Somehow I can't quite see Ramon surrounded by dainty ruffles with pastel flowers.''

"Eduardo is as manly as Ramon and he would not object if I chose to make our bedroom feminine.''

Katie had to admit to herself that what Gabriella said was true; Eduardo would probably acquiesce to Gabriella's wishes with one of those faint, amused smiles he frequently gave her. In the last four days, Katie had revised her opinion of Eduardo. He didn't look at the world with stern, disapproving eyes—he only looked at Katie that way. He was always unfail­ingly courteous to her, but the moment she walked into the room the warmth left his expression.

It might not have been so uncomfortable for Katie if he were small and homely or big and slow-witted, but the truth of the matter was that Eduardo was a very impressive man, which immediately made Katie feel that she was somehow lacking. At thirty-five, he was extremely handsome in a darkly Spanish way. He was three inches shorter than Ramon, with a power­ful build and an attitude of confident male su­premacy that alternately annoyed and intrigued Katie. He was not Ramon's equal in either looks or polish, but when the two men were together there was an easy comradery between them that made Katie acutely aware that she, and only she, failed to meet some unknown standard of Eduardo's. He treated his wife with indulgent affection; Ramon with an odd combination of friendship and admiration… and Katie with nothing more than courtesy.

"Have I done something to offend Eduardo?" Katie asked aloud, half-expecting Gabriella to deny anything unusual in his attitude.

"You must not pay any attention to him," Gabri­ella said with amazing candor. "Eduardo mistrusts all American girls, especially wealthy ones such as you. He thinks they are spoiled and irresponsible, among other things,"

Katie assumed that "other things" probably in­cluded promiscuous. "What makes him think I'm wealthy?" she asked cautiously.

Gabriella flashed an apologetic smile at her. "Your luggage. Eduardo used to work at the desk of a fancy hotel in San Juan while he was going to school. He says your luggage costs more than all the furniture in our living room."

Before Katie could recover, Gabriella turned grave. "Eduardo likes Ramon very much for many reasons, and he is afraid that you will not adjust to being a Spanish farmer's wife. Eduardo thinks, be­cause you are a wealthy American woman, that you lack courage, that you will leave when you discover that your life here is sometimes hard; that when the crop is poor or prices are low you will flaunt your money in front of Ramon."

Katie flushed uncomfortably and Gabriella nod­ded sagely. "That is why Eduardo must never dis­cover that you are paying for part of the furniture. He would condemn you for disobeying Ramon and he would think you are doing this because what Ramon could buy wasn't good enough for you. I do not know why you are paying for things, Katie, but I do not think it is because of that. Someday you can tell me if you wish to do so, but in the meantime Eduardo must not find out. He would tell Ramon immediately."

"Neither of them will find out unless you say something," Katie reassured with a smile.

"You know I will not." Gabriella glanced up at the sun. "Do you want to go to the auction at that house in Mayaguez? We are very close."

Katie readily agreed, and three hours later she was proud owner of a dining set for the kitchen, a sofa and two chairs. The house had been owned by a wealthy bachelor who, before his death, had obviously developed an appreciation for fine wood, ex­cellent craftsmanship and solid comfort. The chairs were wing-backed, deeply tufted in a nubby cream cloth with rust threads. There were two ottomans to match. The sofa was rust with wide rolled arms and deep thick cushions. "Ramon will love it," Katie said as she paid the auctioneer and arranged to have the furniture delivered to the cottage.

"Katie, will you love it?'' Gabriella asked anxious­ly. "You are going to live there, too, yet you have not bought one thing just because you want it."

"Of course I have," Katie said.

At ten minutes to four, Gabriella stopped the car in front of Padre Gregorio's little house. It was on the east side of the village square, directly across the street from the church, easily identified by its white paint and dark green shutters. Katie took her hand­bag off the seat, threw a nervous smile at Gabriella, and slid out of the car.

"Are you certain you don't want me to wait for you?" Gabriella asked.

"Positive," Katie said. "It isn't a long walk to your house from here, and I'll have plenty of time to change clothes afterward and go to see Ramon at the cottage."

Reluctantly Katie walked up to the front door. She paused to smooth the skirt of her pastel green cotton shirtwaist dress and run a shaky hand over her light red hair, which was caught into a soft chignon with tendrils at her ears. She looked, she hoped, very prim proper and composed. She felt like a nervous wreck.

An elderly housekeeper answered Katie's knock and admitted her into the house. Following her down the dim hall, Katie felt like a condemned pris­oner walking the last steps to meet the executioner— though why she felt so upset was something that baffled her.

Padre Gregorio stood up when she entered his study. He was thinner and shorter than she had thought last night, which was absurdly reassuring considering that they weren't going to engage in physical combat. Katie took the seat he indicated across the desk from him, and he sat down.

For a moment they regarded one another with po­lite wariness, then he said, "Would you care for some coffee?"

"Thank you, no," Katie replied with a fixed, courteous smile. "I haven't a great deal of time to spare." That was the wrong thing to say, Katie realized as his bushy white brows snapped together over his nose.

"No doubt you have more important things to do," he said curtly.

"Not for myself," Katie hastily explained, by way of a truce. “'For Ramon.''

To her immense relief, Padre Gregorio accepted the truce offering. His tight lips relaxed into some­thing that was almost a smile as he nodded his white head. "Ramon is in a great hurry to have everything finished, and he must be keeping you extremely busy." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out some forms and picked up his pen. "Let us begin by com­pleting these forms. Your full name and age please?" Katie told him.

"Marital status?" Before Katie could answer, he glanced up and sadly

said, "Ramon mentioned that your first husband died. How tragic for you to have been widowed in the first bloom of your marriage." Hypocrisy had never been one of Katie's faults. Politely but firmly she said, "I was 'widowed' in the first bloom of our divorce, and if there was a tragedy, it was that we were ever married at all."

Behind the spectacles the blue eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"I divorced him before he died."

"For what reason?"

"Irreconcilable differences."

"I did not ask you for the legal grounds, I asked you the reason."

His prying struck sparks of rebellion in Katie's breast, and she expelled a slow, calming breath. "I divorced him because I despised him."

"Why?"

"I would rather not discuss it."

"I see," Padre Gregorio said. He shoved the papers aside, laid down his pen, and Katie felt the fragile truce begin to crumble. "In that case, per­haps you would not object to discussing Ramon and yourself. How long have you known each other?"

"Only two weeks."

"What an unusual answer," he remarked. "Where did you meet?"

"In the States."

"Senorita Connelly," he said in a chilling tone, "would you consider it an invasion of your privacy if I asked you to be a little more specific?"

Katie's eyes flashed militantly. "Not at all, Padre. I met Ramon at a bar—a cantina, I think you call it here."

He looked stunned. "Ramon met you in a cantina?"

"Actually, it was outside."

"Pardon?"

"It was outside, in the parking lot. I was having some trouble and Ramon helped me."

Padre Gregorio relaxed in his chair and nodded his complete approval. "Of course. You were hav­ing automobile trouble, and Ramon assisted you."