“Soon, I hope.”
“On fire?” Connie giggled, and she and Perry ran down the beach betraying their youth in every step.
Maggie paused to whisper to Carlos. “The twins are only thirteen, and if I see you with them again, I’ll have you arrested.”
His mouth fell agape, but he nodded, and he and his friends jogged away.
She reached for Rafael’s hand as they followed the twins. “Miguel is too sick to scold them; Grandmother and Cirilda don’t care. I hate to tell Santos they’re roaming the beach looking for trouble.”
“I think they found it.”
So have I, she thought to herself, but she hadn’t meant to remind Rafael of his sister. It was one thing for a Spaniard to be protective of his family and another for him to resort to murder.
“It sounds as through news of your popularity in Mexico is common knowledge here.”
“I didn’t spread it.”
“I didn’t say you had, but with satellite TV and the Internet, sports fans can follow anyone or team they choose.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “At least they aren’t following me here.”
When they reached the house, Maggie recognized Vida Ramos from the documentary the twins had shown, and while Maria Luisa and Enrique were nearly grown, they were easily recognizable too. The three were standing on the patio, arguing quie
tly. They moved aside to allow the twins to enter the house but didn’t glance toward Maggie and Rafael.
Maggie thought she ought to introduce herself, but Rafael backed away. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised softly and crossed the sand alone.
Maggie waited for Vida to stop for a breath and stepped forward to introduce herself. Maria was dark-haired and dark-eyed and shared Maggie’s resemblance to their father. They could easily be recognized as sisters, but Enrique had sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. He swept her with a dismissive glance.
“The American,” he exclaimed. “Come on, Maria, let’s get this visit over with.” Maria smiled shyly and followed him into the house.
Vida ripped a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes, taking care not to dislodge her false eyelashes. “Is Miguel summoning his children from the far reaches of the earth?”
“You could say that,” Maggie agreed. “Don’t you want to see him?”
Vida shoved her long, curly blonde hair out of her eyes to look up at Maggie. She was lovely, on the cusp of forty with big blue eyes and creamy smooth skin. “I’ll speak to him later.”
“It’s a shame we’re all here for such a sad reason,” Maggie replied.
Tears flooded Vida’s eyes at that unwanted reminder. “I wish I’d never left. Don’t ever threaten a man with divorce if you don’t truly mean it.”
As Maggie recalled, her father had two more wives after Vida, but the hurt sounded fresh in her voice. “You have some regrets?”
“Yes and no,” Vida insisted. “I wanted him to choose me over the parade of women following him like bleating sheep. He thought being his wife ought to be enough for me. I was a fool to disagree.”
“No, he was the fool to behave badly and let you go,” Maggie replied, even knowing she ought to stay out of her father’s twisted love life.
“Thank you, but you’re as wrong as I was.” She checked her diamond-encrusted watch. “I need to keep track of the time; our visits mustn’t be too long.”
“Will I see you at dinner?”
“No, we come and go without making a ripple in Miguel’s life. I hope you’re not sorry you made the trip. Miguel has so many heirs, he can’t be generous to us all. Although you’ll probably be mentioned in his will.”
Taken aback by the second mention of his will, Maggie was slow to respond. “I’m grateful to have met him.”
“I’m sure you weren’t disappointed. Have a safe trip home.” Vida’s tight white sheath barely touched her knees, and her platform heels were so high she tottered slightly as she entered the back door.
Vida was petite and nearly as beautiful as Maggie’s own mother. Her mother was a far stronger woman, though, and had divorced an unfaithful husband rather than suffer with his poor behavior. Still, her mother had kept Miguel’s photographs with treasured family keepsakes, and Maggie would never ask if she harbored any regrets.