Cirilda swallowed a bite of strawberry. “Not yet. Alfonso wants to be certain his practice will be covered before we plan a trip. I’m thinking Tahiti. We might wait and be married there.”
“I’ve heard it’s a beautiful place,” Libby said.
Cirilda nodded and finished her last strawberry. She wiped her hands on her napkin and rose with a regal stretch. “It was so nice to meet you, Libby. I’ll see you again on Saturday for the wedding.”
Santos stood as she left them, then sank down into his seat. “She’s been on her best behavior since her mother went berserk.”
“How many times has she been married?”
“Only three. Alfonso is the prize of the lot, and they reconnected at my father’s funeral. He’s a pediatrician.”
Libby leaned close to whisper, “And he’s marrying her twice?”
“I know. The poor fool must really love her.”
“I’m all for love, but people ought to use some common sense.”
“Common sense?” His eyes flashed with a teasing light. “You mean analyze the pros and cons before beginning a relationship?”
She struggled to sound more mature than she felt. “Yes. Why do you sound so skeptical?”
Santos regarded her with a lazy grin. “Someone either sparks your interest or they don’t. Last night was a good example.”
As if she could forget. “True, but nobody wants to get scorched if that spark turns into a destructive inferno. If Cirilda is your favorite aunt, what are others like?”
“That’s a joke. She’s my only aunt.” He leaned forward. “Now let’s get back to scorching.”
Maggie walked around the corner of the house and found them whispering and so close they nearly touched noses. “I shouldn’t have left you last night, but it looks as though you and Santos are getting along.”
“Not nearly well enough,” he responded.
Libby gave his arm a playful shove. “I wish you’d been here to go sailing with us.”
Maggie took Cirilda’s chair. “There wasn’t time today.”
“Where’s Rafael?” Santos asked. “He’s usually trailing you like a bloodhound.”
“He does not,” Maggie denied. “He brought me home and went on to the university. There are papers to fill out, that sort of thing for his scholarship.”
“Couldn’t he pay on his own?” Libby asked.
“He’s not been a matador long,” Santos interjected. “He probably needs all the financial help he can get.”
“It’s more a matter of being accepted without the usual entrance requirements. We’ll be all right financially,” Maggie insisted. “I plan to teach. After we’re married, I’ll begin applying to the private schools.”
“You’ll be well paid for photos of the wedding,” Santos said. “Don’t overlook that source of revenue.”
“That El Gitano married Miguel Aragon’s daughter will be news, won’t it?” Maggie replied. “I’ll have to talk to Rafael about it.”
“At home, celebrities sell rights to photos all the time,” Libby reminded her. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
“It depends on who’s selling the photos.” Santos stood and rested his hands on the back of his chair. “I’ve got things to do and probably won’t see either of you until after the bullfights tomorrow.”
“Do you really have a blue suit of lights?”
His gaze brightened. “Would you like to see it?”
Libby looked at her sister. “Did he just invite me up to his room?”