Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

“Changing the subject, do I own a radio station?”

“Three of them. Specifically, your father and I—you and I—own one in Córdoba, and another in Santa Fe together, and you own another here.”

“Radio Belgrano?”

“Yes, Radio Belgrano. Why do you ask?”

“Just taking inventory.”

“You mean you’re not going to tell why you asked?”

“You don’t want to know why I asked.”

“What am I going to do about Alicia?” she asked.

“I will speak with her, of course, Claudia,” Welner said.

“She’ll come out of her room when she feels like it, and she will tell you whatever she feels like telling you,” Clete said. “Moral indignation will get you nowhere. She did nothing she’s ashamed of, nothing she should be ashamed of.”

“What makes you think you’re an expert on women? Or on questions of morality?”

“I’m my father’s son, of course,” he said, and before she could protest, added, “I have two sisters, Claudia. Well, two cousins, who act like sisters.”

“And if one of your sisters was involved with someone like Peter, would you have done the same for her? Arrange for her to go to spend the night with him in the Alvear apartment?” she challenged.

He met her eyes. “Yeah, I would,” he said. “Under these circumstances, I would. You ever hear ‘it’s better to have loved and lost, et cetera’?”

“Oh, come on, Cletus,” Welner protested. “That’s poetry, bad poetry, not life.”

“And did you ever hear, Father, that those that can, do, and those that can’t, teach?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Welner asked.

“I find it hard to pay a lot of attention to advice about love—sex—from someone who’s not supposed to know anything about it firsthand,” Clete said.

“Cletus!” Claudia protested, but she could not restrain a smile.

“Touché, Cletus,” the priest said. “Your father often said much the same thing to me.”

“Father!” Claudia said, shocked, and then laughed. Then she went on: “Since this indelicate subject has come up, can I ask a personal question, to satisfy my feminine curiosity?”

“You can ask,” Clete said, smiling.

“What did your aunt Martha and your sisters say to you when they found out about Dorotéa?”

“Don’t you really mean, ‘when they found out Dorotéa’s pregnant’?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, and smiled.

“Beth was delighted, according to Mom, and Marge and Mom—before they met Dorotéa—were afraid I’d been seduced by some hot-blooded Argentine tango dancer.”

“They weren’t!”

“Yes, they were. Their sighs of relief when they saw her for the first time sounded like someone let the air out of a truck tire.”

Claudia laughed. “I’d like a little cognac for my coffee,” she said. “And don’t tell me it’s too early. After last night—thanks to you—I deserve it.”

“There’s a button around here someplace to call a maid,” Clete said.