Mrs. Lopez leaned closer. “Guests do not look after themselves in this house. Is that clear?”
Maggie paused to consider the fact she would soon be gone and reluctantly nodded. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your household routine.”
“Good.” She turned and walked away with a crisp military stride.
Santos had overlooked Mrs. Lopez when he’d described the household, but Maggie thought the woman should definitely be included in his warnings. Of course, he had not one kind word to say about Rafael Mondragon, and she’d chosen to disregard it. That was either an example of her usual streak of independence or one of the worst mistakes she’d ever made. She checked her watch and began counting the hours until she saw him again.
Chapter Six
Late that afternoon, Maggie nearly floated in her over-size bathtub, awash in jasmine-scented bubbles. Her earlier bravado had completely deserted her, and while she may have decided to push her own boundaries, Rafael Mondragon had to be the wrong target.
Whenever her sisters or friends had gushed over some new man, she’d offered coolly logical advice. She counseled restraint during the initial dazzle of an infatuation and preferred to take things slowly. She and Craig had first exchanged greetings in passing in the school halls and then gravitated to the same round table for lunch in the teachers’ lounge. The crowded room was noisy and had never provided a romantic interlude, but from the start she’d been drawn to Craig’s relaxed manner and gentle humor.
He was an attractive man, but as their friendship progressed, she’d felt ever more strongly that an important ingredient was missing. As in the past, she’d suspected she was the one lacking the vital element rather than Craig, and he’d said so in their last angry conversation.
Now Rafael had captured her attention as no man ever had, and while she would enjoy dancing with him, the question was how to behave when the music stopped. He couldn’t press her for more than she wished to give and risk alienating her father. But still, agreeing to go out with him had to have been a mistake in the first place. Maybe she should take the twins along, and Fox too, and everyone else she could find in the household willing to go.
She wiggled her toes. The bathroom’s dolphin fixtures were undoubtedly real gold. The walls were sea-foam green, as was her spacious bedroom. The twins shared the room next door. David Hyde-Fox slept somewher
e down the hall, and she assumed Santos must have a room there too. Santos wouldn’t be pleased she’d accepted Rafael’s invitation, but she hadn’t seen him again that day, so perhaps he wouldn’t have to know. Then again, she wasn’t a teenager sneaking out to meet a boyfriend her parents had forbidden her to see, not that she’d ever done it.
She was also not so naïve as to believe Rafael’s motives were pure either. He admired her father and could be courting the whole family, for all she knew. She wondered what her grandmother and aunt thought of him. When neither of them had made her feel welcome, she imagined they must look right through Rafael without seeing him. Santos had plenty of reasons for disliking him, and Fox didn’t appear to like anyone. But her father liked Rafael, and this was his home, after all.
The bathroom’s marble floor was heated and the white towels thicker than birthday-cake frosting. She wondered if the twins noticed or if they’d always lived such a lavish lifestyle with their mother that their father’s home struck them as merely ordinary.
She kept her towel tightly wrapped while she searched her wardrobe for something appropriate for both dinner and dancing. She’d packed the separates she wore to teach, and while they mixed and matched in numerous combinations, nothing struck her as fancy enough for her grandmother’s taste or dancing. She wouldn’t go shopping for something new when she’d soon leave for home.
She donned red lingerie for courage and a black sundress with a sheer black jacket. She was dressed, at least, and started down the hall for the front stairs but heard a woman weeping outside her father’s door.
She rushed to her. “What’s happened?” she whispered, fearing her father might have taken a turn for the worse.
The young woman was tall and slender with beautiful peach-toned skin and huge green eyes. The soft curls of her honey-blonde hair bounced past her narrow waist. She was dressed in beige pants and a matching tailored top as though she wished to pass by in a caramel blur, but Maggie was sure the remarkable young woman could never escape anyone’s notice.
She quickly dried her tears on the back of her hand and straightened up. “I’m sorry. I thought I could visit Miguel without making a fool of myself. You must be Magdalena.”
“Yes. Would you like to come downstairs and have something to drink? Miss…?”
“No, but thank you. I’m Ana Santillan, one of your father’s former favorites. There are so many of us, I’m surprised we haven’t worn out the carpet with our visits. Forgive me; I shouldn’t have said that.”
Maggie recognized her now. “You’re even prettier than you are on magazine covers. Please don’t apologize. I know my father hasn’t led an exemplary life.”
“Oh, but he has, only it hasn’t been the type of example most would admire.” She shifted her tooled leather bag on her shoulder. “Be careful with Santos. He’s falling in love with you.”
Maggie was too stunned to reply and watched silently as Ana hurried toward the back staircase. She’d only arrived yesterday, so what could Santos possibly have said to give Ana such a ridiculous notion, and when had he done it? Did her father pass along his girlfriends to Santos when he tired of them? Even worse, until he’d fallen ill, did they share the same women? Surely fathers didn’t become involved in a ménage a trois with their sons. Unfortunately, with Miguel, she couldn’t be certain.
Santos didn’t appear for dinner, but Fox joined them. He was dressed in a gray suit with a red tie, but his scowl marred his handsome appearance. He sat beside Maggie, spoke not a word and remained focused on his plate for the entire meal. One of the twins studied him rather than eat and Maggie assumed she must be Connie. Maggie didn’t feel much like eating, either, but the cook had produced a delicious roast, and she needed protein for courage.
Her grandmother ignored Fox but repeatedly cautioned the twins to watch their posture. Cirilda spoke at length on a charming English play she’d seen with friends that afternoon. “We were lucky to find tickets available at the last minute,” she explained and smirked proudly.
Maggie rested her fork across her plate. Apparently her aunt lacked the manners to include her, but she was relieved not to have to spend any more time than she absolutely must with her. “I love the theater,” she offered.
“Do you?” Cirilda remarked. “I doubt I’ll be going to another production any time soon.”
“How unfortunate,” Fox muttered under his breath. “I’m finished, Señora Aragon; may I be excused?”
“Of course. You’ve added so little to the evening, you’ll not be missed.”
The twins looked at Maggie, their eyes wide. Maggie shook her head to warn off a revolt. Cirilda’s fork scraped her plate. Maggie hadn’t heard how her grandfather had died, but it wouldn’t surprise her to learn he’d leapt from the roof rather than stay married to Carmen.