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, Se?ora 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.
She checked her watch frequently. Spaniards dined later than she was used to, and it was nearly eleven before her grandmother left the table to signal the end of the meal, leaving her only a few minutes to freshen up before Rafael arrived.
She dashed upstairs to brush her teeth, and the twins were right on her heels. "You ought to wear perfume," Connie urged. "Then if you get all sweaty dancing, you'll still smell good."
"I don't usually wear perfume," Maggie responded. Her teeth were sparkling white, and that would have to be enough.
"I'll get you some!" Perry cried, and she dashed next door to their room and returned with a tiny atomizer and sprayed the scent over Maggie's hair before she could stop her.
Maggie let the fragrance settle, then brushed out as much as she could. "Please don't do that again," she begged. "Rafael wears enough scent for us both."
"He smells like Papa," Connie offered. "So does Santos when he takes the time, but I've never seen anyone faint from desire around here."
Maggie laughed. "Are you sure you're only thirteen?"
The girls leaned close to brag in unison, "We're a very mature thirteen."
"Yes, you are." She paused only a moment to primp in the mirror and then left the twins to go downstairs by herself. Mrs. Lopez had just welcomed Rafael in, and the housekeeper turned to send Maggie a harshly disapproving glance.
Rafael's black silk shirt and trimly tailored pants were perfect for dancing, and she again wished she had something more appropriate to wear. "Are we just going to watch others dance tonight?" she asked as they walked down the front steps.
"We can watch or dance too, whatever you would like." He held the door as she slid into his black Mercedes sedan.
She thought it an odd choice for him. It was comfortable, but more suited to a family man than a bachelor who wished to impress his dates. "You're not married, are you?" she asked and immediately regretted it. "Not that I think you are, but we weren't really introduced, and I..."
He laughed. "No, I have never been married. No woman in her right mind would marry a matador before he'd earned his fortune. The funeral costs alone would be prohibitive."
"You think that's funny?"
"Of course, but unless a bull is loose in the streets, neither of us is likely to die tonight."
"I hope not," Maggie agreed. "At least not before we've seen the dancing."
He reached over to squeeze her hand. "Don't worry. I'll take very good care of you."
His hand was warm and left hers too soon. She drew in a deep breath, thought about the time difference between Spain and Arizona and realized she hadn't bothered to call Craig since she'd arrived. He probably wasn't expecting her to call anyway. Still, she felt strangely untethered from her usual life.
"Did you leave a man at home?" Rafael asked.
"What?" She gasped. "I'm sorry, you simply startled me. What makes you ask?"
"I want to know you. Is the question too personal?"
"No, not at all." She paused, uncertain how to be both truthful and concise.
"A simple yes or no will do. Perhaps you have many men?"