Santos watched her walk toward the shore. “With those legs, I wish Libby would always wear shorts. You know what bothers me?” he added.
“Your knee, probably,” Rafael posed.
“Yes, that too, but my father spent most of his life chasing women who closely resembled Maggie’s mother. He must have regretted losing her.”
Rafael shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I swear I could have a better conversation with this table.”
“You like to be surrounded by people. I don’t.”
“Some doctor you’re going to be. Have you considered going into pathology?”
“No. Don’t you believe I’ll have much of a bedside manner?”
“No.”
He flashed a wide grin. “Maggie would disagree.”
Santos glared at him, but clearly Rafael had won that exchange. “I wish I still had my condo. I didn’t realize how awkward it would be to have Maggie’s parents here. They’re so damn blonde and, I don’t know, American, I suppose. Do you realize what you’ll be getting into?”
“We won’t be having Sunday dinner together every week.”
“No, but they aren’t like us.”
Rafael turned toward the sea. “You and I aren’t alike either, and look how well we get along. Patricia has made a friend. Do you recognize the girl with her?”
Santos leaned forward to get a better look. “No.” Patricia and Libby were talking with a petite young woman with flowing waist-length black hair. A black bikini showed off her golden tan and left little of her spectacular figure to the imagination. “I know a few of the people who live along the beach, but she doesn’t look familiar.”
The three young women started toward them. “She isn’t armed,” Rafael murmured under his breath, “so she doesn’t appear to be a threat.”
“She’s not my type.”
“Mine either,” Rafael responded, but he smiled as though he was pleased to make her acquaintance.
“This is Victoria Rubio. When I said I was staying with the Aragon family, she didn’t believe me. Do you believe me now?” Patricia asked her.
Victoria regarded both men with a glorious smile and, with a saucy dip of her head, gave her hair a gentle sway. “I’d heard you had a home near here, Santos, but I never expected to meet you. To find El Gitano here too is overwhelming!” She backed away. “I won’t bother you. Maybe I’ll see you again on the beach.”
Patricia watched her go. “Is everyone in Barcelona as friendly?”
“Yes,” Santos assured her, “but don’t use my name or Rafael’s again.”
“I’m sorry, we just started talking, and she seemed nice.”
“I’m sure she is,” Rafael said. “Just be careful.”
Libby understood his warning even if Patricia failed to. She was going to have to make a list of everything they’d rather her parents didn’t know, murder attempts being right below prison time.
Mrs. Lopez showed Linda and Peter to their room and had Patricia’s luggage placed in Libby’s. Linda took in the beautifully furnished room with a widened gaze and stepped out onto the balcony.
“Where’s your room, Maggie?” she asked.
“Just down the hall. Come, I’ll show you.” She took her mother’s hand and pulled her away from Peter. “I want to show Mom my dress for the wedding.”
Once they were out in the hall, she whispered, “Nothing has been changed since Miguel died. Would you like to see his room?”
Linda looked over her shoulder to make certain Peter hadn’t followed. “I’m not sure, but I suppose I’ll regret it later if I don’t.”