“Shades of Zorro,” Mark said with a chuckle. “I never looked closely inside the hearth, and when Enrique pulled me through, I was unconscious … but I’d like to have another gander at it after the roof is pulled away.”
Behind them, a telephone rang, almost as loud as the church bell. As Corinne recovered from the start it gave her, Gaspar appeared, heading straight for a massive writing desk under her mother’s portrait, and answered it.
“I always thought that the measurements of the fireplace and hearth were overdone,” Mark went on. “Too much space for—”
“Pardon me, Señor Mark, but your brother wishes to speak to you,” Gaspar announced. “There is another phone in Doña Violeta’s room, if you wish to speak in quiet.”
“I’ll show you.” Corinne jumped to her feet, glad for the interruption. Mark was tired, despite his can-do show for everyone. “I really think, since the interview is over, that you gentlemen should let Mark rest awhile … although you’re welcome to stay and partake of my grandmother’s hospitality,” she added, every inch the hostess she had observed her grandmother to be.
“As you can see from the activity on the patio …” Corinne glanced to where Diego and Violeta sat at a table, conversing with the guests. “She is holding court.”
Although Carlos Aquino looked disappointed not to hear more of Hacienda Ortiz’s secrets, he was gracious. “But of course, you are tired,” he told Mark.
“I will return tomorrow to take the boy’s official statement after he has calmed down a bit,” Vincente chimed in, rising to take his leave. “If I think of anything else, perhaps I can ask you then.” He shook Mark’s hand. “Adiós, señor, señorita.”
“We’ll take the call in the other room,” Corinne told Gaspar, who passed the message along to Blaine on the other end of the line and put down the handset to show the Aquino brothers out.
The moment Corinne and Mark entered the privacy of her grandmother’s bedroom, Mark pulled Corinne into his arms with a rejuvenated vigor, backing her against the closed door. “Alone at last.”
“Mark.”
He kissed his name from her lips, letter by letter, and when he drew away, his breath was shallow and fast as her own. “Did I tell you that I loved you?”
“Yes, but I want to hear it again and again … after you speak to Blaine.” Although duty first was the last thing she really cared about. He gave her a wicked wink. “Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he led her, twickled to the tips of her toes, to the antique black phone by Violeta’s high poster bed. With his free hand, he picked up the receiver, tucking her into the curve of his arm with the other.
She nuzzled the curve of his neck with her head.
“Hello, Blaine.” Moving the mouthpiece aside, he whispered behind her ear. “Think Grandmother would object to our honeymooning in this?”
Honeymooning?Was she hearing right? Corinne looked up at him.
“It’s been quite a night,” he admitted, all business for Blaine. “I’m afraid the hacienda is lost.”
“I don’t recall being proposed to,” Corinne said, sidling closer.
“Yeah, I know there’s insurance.” He stole a quick kiss from her earlobe and whispered, “If I did, would you?”
His words tickled, stirring Corinne’s confusion. “What? The wedding or the bed?” She tried to wriggle around to face him, but his arm locked her waist against him.
“Frankly, I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“What?” she hissed in impatience. Was he talking to her or Blaine? Somehow the idea of sharing a proposal with her future brother-in-law didn’t ring her romantic bell.
Mark covered the mouthpiece. “Did you know the insurance money plus what we already have will build exactly what the orphanage needs?”
It was great news. But at the moment, her reactions were skewed with an urge to snatch the phone from Mark and beat him with it.
“Blaine wants me to draw up the plans and see the project through.”
“That … that’s good,” she managed, still hung up on honeymoon. Honeymoon meant marriage. Corinne made a face. She didn’t want to honeymoon in her grandmother’s bed.
“Caroline wants to know about the honeymoon.”
“Caroline is on there too?” Corinne gasped. Her proposal, such as it was, was being broadcast all the way to Pennsylvania.
“She’s running on about colors.”
Colors? She hadn’t said yes yet. Heat shot up Corinne’s neck, fueled by anger and embarrassment. “Have you lost your mind?”
“And about how lucky you are to have a guy like me.” Mark grinned.
Glaring at him, Corinne tried to grab the phone, but he held it out of her reach, laughing.
“Easy, Muffet …” Switching it to the other hand, he spoke. “Blaine, Caroline, I have to go. I think this woman is trying to say yes to my marriage proposal, and she means business.”
Corinne gaped. “Oh!” If he was for real … if they were in on this … she … she’d …
“They want to say congratulations,” he told her, handing her the phone.
Corinne jerked it to her ear. “I haven’t said yes, and after this stunt, I may have to think about it.” When Blaine made no reply, a cloud of suspicion gathered in her mind. “Blaine, are you there?”
Mark hopped up on the raised mattress without the aid of the antique steps kept by the bedside. “Will you marry me, Miss Muffet?”
Corinne slammed the handle into the cradle. “Before or after I strangle you?”
“I love a woman with fire.”
She winced. “Don’t say that word.”
“Right.” Mark sobered. “But I am serious.” He motioned her closer with his finger. “I promised myself that if I ever got out of that inferno, I’d make you my wife and soul mate.”
“Soul mate?” It made her heart ring.
“I know I’m not perfect,” he said, “but knowing you has changed me for the better.” Mark slid off the bed, folding her hands to his chest. “Corinne Diaz Quintana Vega, et cetera, et cetera … will you marry me and be one with my heart …” He brushed the knuckles of one hand with his lips and placed it behind his neck. “My body …” he said, doing the same with the other. “And my soul?”
His gaze reached into hers, kindling the light of a million stars within. “With this kiss,” he whispered, cupping her chin and raising it so that their breath mingled between them, “I vow to make the struggle too.”
He covered the twitch of Corinne’s smile with his mouth, dissolving her amusement over the Indio turn of phrase with an infectious fervor that lifted her off her feet—or was that the strong arms around her, molding her to him so that their hearts beat in counterpoint?
Her heart and body shouted yes a thousand times over, but it was Corinne’s spirit that penetrated the dizzying storm with its calm affirmation. God asks no more of anyone but to make the struggle. To do so with the man she loved was a no-brainer.
EPILOGUE
Red peonies of fireworks burst in gay profusion against the background of a fiesta moon over Mexicalli’s new orphanage. From the windows of the structure, the little round faces of the younger orphans watched with wide-eyed delight. On the grounds, the villagers murmured in approval while Corinne applauded with the local dignitaries and other gringos from Pennsylvania, who’d gathered for the official opening day ceremonies. Blaine and his family sat on the other side of the stage with Father Menasco, while Neta Madison and her daugher, Jeanne, sat behind Corinne and Mark.
Now that the brief formalities were over, the celebration looked more like a carnival than anything official. Half of the town’s new prefabricated stage had been moved up from the village proper for the daylong affair, along with many of the portable vendors’ booths. Some of the orphanage’s older children ran game booths to raise money for basic sports equipment, handing out prizes to the winners from a treasure chest of promotional toys donated by Madison Enterprises.
By the time the fir
eworks started, almost every child in the village and orphanage sported glow-in-the-dark somethings somewhere on their bodies. Corinne could see them running in and out of the onlookers, who watched the show seated on petate mats, swathed in woolen serapes. The January days were warm enough, but winter waited with frosty breath for night to fall on the mountainside.
“Your friend Pyro did it again,” Corinne shouted in her husband’s ear as pinwheels came to life a safe distance away from the new structure. She rubbed the arms of her woolen-silk–blend jacket and tried to move closer. What was she thinking, choosing something with a short, fringed skirt?
“He knows the best in the business for the buck.” Mark slipped his arm around her. “Although I’d like to make a few of our own a little later.”
His devilment sent a tidal wave of twickles warm enough to make her forget the nip in the air. But then her husband of one year had not lost his knack for starting romantic fires and satisfying them beyond a woman’s wildest dreams.
Sixteen months ago, the smoke drifting on the mountain air had come from Hacienda Ortiz instead of a fireworks display. Lorenzo Pozas and Dr. Krump had been sent to prison for multiple sentences of attempted murder and kidnapping, since the death of the boys’ parents was officially ruled an accident. Don Rafael got the consideration that Vincente Aquinos mentioned for reporting their crimes. The former mayor served two years in a minimum security institution, while Diego reluctantly served Mexicalli in his stead until the elections. Talk was that Juan Pablo—Plumber Juan—might run for the office.
Two months after the fire, Soledad married Juan Miguel. Corinne couldn’t help but think that the breakfast the housekeeper made him on his first day at work must have been something else. Soledad moved to his small abode above the village with Toto, although she did accept a job as a commuting housekeeper for Doña Violeta.
As Mexicalli’s only enchanted pig, Toto, now a full-grown hog, continued to live a dog’s life, which included going to market with Soledad and enjoying food given him by the villagers. Corinne wasn’t certain what scent he used these days.
Because flying was out of the question for Corinne’s newfound abuela, who considered her upholstered donkey cart a modern convenience, Corinne and Mark had chosen to get married in Mexicalli by Father Menasco during the holidays, so that all their families might attend. As if she were the mother and grandmother of the bride combined, Soledad fussed through tears of joy to make the grand reception held in Violeta’s villa courtyard as elegant as any Mexicalli had ever seen.
After a honeymoon in Hawaii, Corinne returned with Mark for the construction of his first solo project. Due to the remote location and working on Mexicalli time, the project of building the new orphanage on the Ortiz location took nearly a year to complete, even without the hindrance of “witchcraft.” Of course, old Primitivo and his cronies smoked over each stage of the project, making the struggle up the hill on a weekly basis to see that all was going well.
Corinne scanned the crowd, looking for the hard hat that Mark had given the old Indio for his service as an unofficial supervisor, but with the flashing fireworks it was almost impossible. Primitivo had confided in Corinne upon completion of the final phase that he’d thought a lot about praying to angels and assorted Aztec spirits, and had come to the conclusion that it was a waste of time when he could petition the Creator directly. But the incense he sold was like that the wise men brought to Jesus, and the candles were a light of faith in a dark world, so the canny village sage continued to sell them along with his advice on healing and protection.
“Señora Corina!”
Seated at the edge of the stage, Corinne blinked, half-blinded by the explosions of light, in the direction of the voice. Antonio Pozas Altman ran toward the podium from the area of the game booths, a cluster of glowing bracelets in his hand. He and Enrique had moved to England with their new parents, although the Altmans still spent winter breaks on Lake Flores at the lakeside B and B, where Corinne and Mark had breakfasted with them and Father Menasco earlier that day.
“Look what I won for you!” the boy said, his breath frosting the night air.
“Don’t you think you should save some for your mother?” she asked, hoping she didn’t snag her hose on the plywood as she knelt to receive her gift.
“No, Enrique already won more than she can fit on her wrist.”
Mark snorted. “Humph, I don’t know if I like some dude giving my woman jewelry.”
Antonio produced a grin missing two front teeth. “You are so silly, Señor Mark. I already have a girlfriend at home. Her name is Gloria.”
“Did you save a bracelet for Gloria?” Corinne inquired.
“That is what I am going to do next. Adiós.”
“Thank you, Antonio,” Corinne called after the boy as he darted back through the crowd of sky gazers. Taking Mark’s offered arm, she eased back into her seat and shook the glowing bangles on her wrist. “Wasn’t that sweet?”
“I think I’m jealous,” Mark growled in her ear.
“But you still have Toto,” she reminded him.
“Nah, whatever attraction I had for Toto is over,” Mark told her. “You saw him. He didn’t even know me anymore. Besides, as I recall, he snores and has bad breath.” He gave her a playful nudge. “And you’re much nicer to sleep with.”
Corinne coughed, partly from her husband’s mischief and partly from the tickle of a wayward drift of sulfur smoke. “Talk about a left-handed compliment.”
Mark pulled her under his arm, as if to squeeze the tickle out.
“Mark, have you forgotten that your mother is sitting behind you?” Jeanne Madison piped up from behind them.
Mark’s “little sister” was almost as tall as he was and had earned a doctorate at age twenty-six, but was as unassuming as they came. Her golden brown hair and tawny eyes drew men’s attention like a magnet, but Jeanne was oblivious in that area as well.
“Mind your own business, kid, or you won’t see those letters I promised you.”
“That’s low, and you know it.”
“He’s incorrigible,” Corinne told her sister-in-law. It was part of his charm.
Mark knew Jeanne was chafing at the bit to read the letters and ship’s log from the Luna Azul, which had been found in a chest in the chamber beneath the hacienda. Diego Ortiz’s family had owned the Spanish merchantman, which took on water during a storm in 1702 and was abandoned, sinking with a fortune in gold and silver coins.
If Jeanne could interest backers, this could be her golden break … as well as another break for the orphanage, since the contents of the hacienda belonged to it. An investment company was already at work to mine the caracoles. The orphanage would receive a share as owners of the property, with the Mexican government and the new corporation as partners. But the treasure of the Luna Azul, if it could be found, promised to be far more lucrative than the fossils, which to date were not as valuable as first thought.
Above them the grand finale erupted like machine-gun fire versus cannon. As the last white streams of light spiraled to the ground, Diego announced the conclusion of the celebration. Blaine’s family immediately dispersed, Karen and Annie running off with their little brother, Berto, to try their luck at the games before they closed. With Mark on Doña Violeta’s other arm, Diego helped his grandaunt into the cart hitched to the rear of the stage.
Enchanted by the lady and her mode of transportation, Jeanne and Neta joined her for the ride to her villa, where a Mexican supper catered by the orphanage cooks awaited Mexicalli’s guests. At the front of the cart, Chiquita, wearing a chic straw hat bedecked with ribbons to match Violeta’s dark blue dress, bobbed her head, ready to go.
“If you will excuse me,” Diego said, handing Violeta the reins with a short bow. “I will join you momentarily with María.”
Corinne wasn’t sure when Diego had begun courting María Delgado at the orphanage, but it delighted Doña Dulce.
“Just look at that moon,” her gran
dmother sighed, shifting her sparkling gaze from the retreating alcalde to Mark and Corinne. “Do you remember what I call it?”
“A fiesta moon,” Corinne responded. How well she remembered the night. It was the first time that she and Mark connected, not just with a kiss, but with troubled souls reaching out for one another.
“When Blaine and I met, I thought it looked too perfect to be real,” Caroline said, snuggling up to her husband. “Like one of those paper-perfect ones that hang on our October bulletin boards.”
“Such a moon says that it is a night for love,” Violeta told her guests. With a romantic sigh, she snapped the reins gently, and Chiquita pulled the cart away to her mistress’s recount of that evening. “Mark and Corinne had only just met, but I knew …”
Mark slipped his arm around Corinne from behind and pointed to the sky. “I think I knew too,” he confided, nuzzling her neck.
“I think it had more to do with finding the right woman than the moon,” Blaine observed, stepping forward and offering Mark his hand. “Well done, little brother.” He glanced from the new orphanage looming behind them to Corinne. “On more than one account. I knew you had it in you.”
“With the right woman.” He squeezed Corinne even tighter.
Basking in the subtle spice of his cologne and his affection, Corinne followed his watery gaze toward the horizon, where the moon spilled silver light over the jagged mountaintops. It seemed no more than a finger’s breadth from them. So close and yet so far—as she and Mark had been.
“I think God put that moon there that night for us,” she murmured softly, after Blaine and Caroline left to reclaim their brood. “He knew we belonged together.”
“It’s a night for lovers. Grandmother said so.”
“So what do you think … later, after we escape the in-laws and outlaws. You and me, the guest room, the moonlight … ”
Fiesta Moon Page 27