difficult to offer only a trembling smile. "Let's go. I know you're in a hurry."
"I'm not in a hurry to leave you." He gave her a final squeeze and took her hand as they walked down the stairs to his car. When they reached Santos's apartment, he escorted her to the door.
Santos and Fox were cooking breakfast. "Want something to eat before you go?" Santos asked.
"No, thank you," Rafael replied. "If you're going sailing, should I meet you at the beach house later?"
"That's fine. I don't want Grandmother and Cirilda to think I'm avoiding them," Santos replied.
"I am avoiding them," Maggie declared, "but they don't own the beach." Rafael gave her a quick kiss, and she closed the door after him. She turned to find Santos and Fox staring at her. "What?"
"I just don't see you two as a couple," Santos declared. "You can't know much about him. We should hire a detective to find out who he really is."
Now that she'd discovered their father's motives, she couldn't use him as a reference for Rafael. "All I have to do is live through today. Please don't give me more trouble than I already have. What are you cooking?"
Fox waved a dishtowel. "We're trying to make waffles. Is there a secret to it?"
"Yes, the iron has to be greased and sizzling hot." She led the way into the kitchen and helped them produce golden brown waffles, but she couldn't swallow a bite. She checked her watch. It would be a very long day, and she was still sorry she hadn't thought of a better way to tell Rafael good-bye.
Santos rested his hands on her shoulders. "I asked a friend who'll be in the arena to call me after Rafael fights his second bull. You needn't wait until you see him to know he's all right."
"Thank you. Now tell me how you learned to sail."
"Spain once had the greatest fleet in the world. We're born knowing how to sail."
Her brother never lacked confidence. "We're not sailing a galleon from the Spanish Armada, are we?"
Santos laughed. "No, it would take too many hands. We'll rent a sailboat Fox and I can handle, and you'll be able to relax and wave to people on the beach."
She'd dressed in cropped pants and a knit top over her bikini and brought her hat. "It's such a beautiful day. Is there enough wind to sail?"
"You worry too much," Fox complained. "Would you rather rent kayaks and paddle up and down the coast?"
"No, not today. Let me help you with the dishes."
"You didn't eat," Fox said. "We'll do the dishes. Santos won't leave the apartment with dishes in the sink. Go look at a book."
She leaned against the counter. "I found your books about Father. Are we mentioned in any of them?"
Santos filled the sink with soapy water. "I'm in the most recent one because I'd started fighting and Father claimed me as his son. He didn't talk about you or the year he spent in Arizona with journalists. He must have wanted to protect your privacy."
"Not admitting she exists is a little too private, isn't it?" Fox asked.
"No, it's all right," she insisted. "I wasn't here to be a part of the family."
She went into the living room and shuffled through the Sunday paper. Bullfighting was covered in the arts section rather than sports, but she'd rather not read about the matadors who'd be joining Rafael in the arena.
The folder with Augustin's papers still lay on the coffee table. She went back to the kitchen. "Did you finish reading through our grandfather's folder?"
Santos rinsed off a mixing bowl. "I did. I couldn't believe he'd spend so much time longing for a woman he'd only known a few weeks. Father wouldn't have remembered her name, let alone written love poems for her years later."
Fox dried the bowl. "He remembered my mother's name."
"Of course he did," Santos agreed, and, warned he was on dangerous ground, he shifted to a new subject. "I wish we had time to sail to Mallorca. It's a beautiful island, like a little country in itself. I should stop complaining about the fact our father sold his sailboats and buy one for myself. Not a grand yacht that takes a dozen to crew, just a nice boat I could take out by myself."
"Women like boats, don't they?" Fox asked.
"Yes, I believe they do," Maggie answered, and Santos turned to wink at her.
"Maybe we should look at boats that are for sale before we go sailing,"