Linda was afraid she knew and hushed her youngest daughter. “Don’t worry. If we don’t like Rafael, your father will promptly convince Maggie to end their engagement.”
Peter Gunderson looked at his wife askance. “Magdalena is your daughter. You give it a try first.”
“Oh my God,” Patricia whispered, and her parents turned to see Maggie rushing toward them, her delighted smile wide, but their attention was immediately riveted on her handsome escort. Rafael smiled, but, dressed in his usual black attire, his height and muscular build spoke far louder than his pleasant expression.
Linda hadn’t expected such an imposing young man as a prospective son-in-law. Hiding her dismay, she drew Maggie into an enveloping hug. Catching herself, she reluctantly stood back to let Peter and Patricia greet her.
“We haven’t seen her since Christmas,” Peter told Rafael.
Rafael extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. Will you need help with your luggage? Our chauffeur is waiting with the car.”
“Wait until you see it,” Maggie interjected. “It’s a Hispano-Suiza.”
“Really, what year?” Peter asked, clearly impressed.
“It’s a 1934 Type 68 saloon,” Rafael replied.
“Even without a fancy suit of lights, you ought to be promoting tourism for Spain,” Patricia responded with a saucy grin.
Maggie wrapped her arm around Rafael’s. “
My sister began flirting with the doctors in the delivery room. I’ll forgive her if you will.”
“Of course, I’m flattered,” he replied.
Six feet tall, Peter maintained his trim build with cross-country skiing during Minnesota’s long winters and running in the summers. At forty-eight, his fair hair was still thick and curly, and Linda had always thought him handsome. He was an attorney with a gift for convincing arguments. “Maggie knows I have a thing for cars, but I didn’t mean to be rude. Your engagement came as a surprise, but Maggie has a high opinion of you, and we trust her judgment.”
Linda tried not to stare at Rafael. Blonde and blue-eyed like her husband and two youngest daughters, she wore her hair in a stylish bob. She relied upon yoga and Pilates to retain her slim figure and graceful flexibility and looked years younger than forty-five. “We have so much to plan. Will your family be helping us?”
“I have no family, but Maggie and I want only a small wedding. We could plan it at breakfast Saturday morning and have it in the afternoon.”
Linda sighed. “Let’s hope for something more memorable, shall we? Just because a wedding is small, it needn’t be without charm. Didn’t Libby come with you?”
Maggie squeezed Rafael’s hand. “My brother, Santos, is home with a knee injury, and Libby is keeping him company.”
“Playing nurse sounds like fun,” Patricia responded with a sparkling giggle, and her mother turned to see what she’d found so amusing. Patricia produced the innocent wide-eyed smile she relied upon to stay out of trouble. With a mass of fair curls and big blue eyes, she’d always had more fun than her two older sisters combined. Or at least she had until Maggie met Rafael.
The family had brought only carry-on luggage, and Rafael took Linda’s as they walked to the exit for arriving passengers. They had only a few minutes to wait before Manuel drove up in the Hispano-Suiza. Linda and Patricia were as fascinated by the beautiful long, low sedan as Peter.
“Do you rent the car out for movies?” Patricia asked.
Uncertain, Maggie turned to ask Manuel in Spanish, and he gave a long, thoughtful reply as he loaded the luggage in the trunk. She omitted her father’s name in her translation. “The family allows only still photos. We can take pictures when we get home. Rafael and I will follow you to the beach house in his car. The view of the coast is spectacular, and the house is right on the water.”
“The beach house,” Peter murmured under his breath.
Maggie hadn’t meant to brag when there was such little comparison between the comfortable home Peter provided and Miguel Aragon’s. “There’s a cattle ranch that’s thought of as home,” she explained and feared she’d only made things worse.
Linda kissed her good-bye, then climbed into the beautiful vintage car with Patricia and her husband following. Manuel waited for Rafael to drive up behind them in his Mercedes before he exited the parking lot. Patricia turned to wave through the back window, and Maggie waved back.
“Peter raised me, so he’s my father. I’m grateful he made this trip, but staying in Miguel’s house won’t be easy for him.”
“Nor your mother,” Rafael added. “Had she stayed with Miguel, you’d have grown up here.”
“My mother isn’t the type to tolerate a philandering husband.”
“Philandering? Is that word still used?”
“I don’t know. It’s a step beyond unfaithful, and that certainly applies where Miguel was concerned. He told me he’d cheated on all his wives.”