Rafael flashed a wicked grin. “Not unless it were worth it.”
Maggie opened the backseat door for Santos and urged him in. “Let’s go, or we won’t even make the eleven o’clock service, let alone the early reception.”
He hung on to the door. “I should have brought my crutches. Will you go up to my room and get them?”
Maggie glared at him. “So you can punch Rafael just for the fun of it? No. Rafael, would you please fetch the damn crutches?”
He laughed. “It’s looks as though I’m the fox, Santos is the chicken, and you’re farmer.”
“I’m the farmer, all right. Now get going.”
“Someone has to tell me that joke,” Santos complained.
Maggie checked her watch and was surprised it wasn’t quite nine a.m. She waited for Santos to ease himself into the backseat, closed his door and got into the front seat. “We should probably leave while he’s upstairs,” she murmured under her breath.
“We can’t, he took the keys.”
“True.” She opened the envelope and found the promised photographs Ana had taken there at the ranch, plus several of Rafael and Santos strutting into the bullring in all their magnificent splendor. “These are amazing photos.”
“Great, but she shouldn’t have shared them with the press. She won’t be the only one with a camera today. I should have asked Anita for another mantilla for myself.”
She turned to face him. “Don’t worry; I doubt you’ll be criticized for shedding a few tears at your father’s funeral.”
“I’ll keep reminding myself that we missed the first one. That’ll help.”
Rafael opened the SUV’s rear door to store Santos’s crutches. “Anything else you need before go?”
“No,” Santos assured him. “I’ll direct you along the back roads to avoid the freeway, and we’ll reach the Tibur in plenty of time to strangle Carmen before the eleven o’clock mass.”
“Absolutely no violence!” Maggie cautioned, then realized these were men who dressed in embroidered suits to slaughter bulls for a living. She’d wasted her breath.
People hoping to attend Miguel Aragon’s funeral overflowed the Plaza del Pilar, but Rafael was able to slowly thread his way through the crowd to reach the hotel. He handed the car keys to the valet. “We’ll be here until early afternoon. Charge it to Carmen Aragon’s room.”
“Yes, sir.” He recognized Santos if not Rafael and elbowed the other valet. “Good to see you here today, Señor Aragon.”
Santos nodded rather than explain it wasn’t a good day at all. He used his crutches to reach the front desk, and they were again greeted warmly and directed to the Tibur’s ballroom. Deep red silk wallpaper and tall mirrors lined the room, and crystal chandeliers made it bright. Long tables held breakfast entrees, and there was a separate bar for drinks. There were perhaps a hundred people there, most of them men. All spoke in hushed tones.
The twins were with Marina, all three dressed in black. The girls’ mascara had run with their tears and made black trails down their pale cheeks. Their mother’s makeup was absolute perfection, however, and serene, she appeared to be attending an afternoon tea rather than an occasion as sad as this. Vida sat at a round table with Enrique and Maria Luisa. He turned a bored gaze on them, while his mother and sister grieved openly with abundant tears. Dr. Moreno sat with an elderly gentleman, who nodded at the physician’s every word.
Carmen stood at the bar, talking with a woman in a deep purple suit and feathered hat. Cirilda was on the far side of the room. Maggie wasn’t sure if their entry had gone unnoticed or if her grandmother and aunt simply didn’t care.
She gestured for her companions to come close. “I’m going to take Grandmother through the door closest to the bar. This should take me only a few minutes, but if I’m not back in ten, please come looking for me.”
“I’ll go with you now,” Rafael offered.
She touched his arm lightly. “Thank you, but no. I’ll do this on my own.”
She walked up to Carmen, who appeared startled to see her, as did her friend in purple. She took a firm hold of her grandmother’s upper arm. “Forgive us, we need a moment in private.” She urged her grandmother toward the exit, and while Carmen huffed with indignation, she kept up with Maggie’s longer stride.
Once they’d entered the hallway to the restrooms, Maggie released her. She then spoke in the beautiful Spanish she taught in her classroom. “You’ve been cold and rude to me since the moment I arrived in your home, but what you did to Santos this morning is unforgiveable. He’s devoted himself to the Aragon family in ways you don’t even approach. By insulting him as you have today, you’ve made a powerful enemy. Miguel loved his sons and daughters, and he’d be deeply ashamed of the way you’ve treated us. I won’t accept an apology and neither will Santos.
“We’re going ahead with the funeral planned for eleven, and I suggest if you attend, you pray for your own rotten soul rather than weep for Miguel.” She threw in a few immensely derogatory terms and left her grandmother staring at her bug-eyed in the hall. Rafael and Santos were waiting for her on the other side of the door. “That felt so good.”
Santos saluted her with a glass of orange juice. “You were only gone four minutes.”
“It was enough time. If she dares to come back in, don’t speak to her. I told her you’d never forgive her for this morning, and even if you will, make her wait.”
“I’ll make a point of it. You’ve no idea who these people are, do you?”