by Phoebe Conn
Santos straightened up. “And you want to stay here? Why, have you run out of photos to sell?”
“I only sold one,” she countered, “or maybe two.”
“The number doesn’t matter. All I’ll do is loan you a blanket so you can sleep in the stable.”
“Isn’t it haunted?” Fox asked, hanging on their every word.
“Maybe,” Santos replied. “Ana can give us a report in the morning.”
“No thanks.” She turned toward the door, but Fox stopped her.
“You can sleep in my room tonight,” he suggested, his grin wide.
“Absolutely not,” Santos announced.
“You don’t have to shout,” Ana insisted. “I wouldn’t share a bed with Fox. He’s awfully cute but definitely too young for me.”
Santos pushed away from the wall. “But my father wasn’t too old?”
Fox sat on the bottom step of the stairs to get a good seat for what looked like might become a memorable fight.
“Your father was a national treasure, and his age meant nothing to me. We’d have stayed together if he hadn’t fallen ill.”
“That’s unlikely. It usually took him only six months to grow bored with a woman, and I doubt you’d have lasted four.”
“Bastard!” Ana drew back her hand to slap him, but his reflexes were lightning quick, and he caught her wrist in midair.
He kept hold of her to walk her to the door. “You’re not that far from home. Go and don’t come back. You’ve worn out your welcome here several times.”
Ana jerked her arm away and stamped across the porch and down the steps. She was in her car and headed for the freeway in less than twenty seconds.
Fox stood and watched her drive away. “Didn’t you understand she wanted to stay with you tonight? I sure wouldn’t have sent her away.”
“I wouldn’t have when I was sixteen either, but I’ve grown more particular. Are there girls at your school?”
“No, the student body is all male, but there’s a girls’ school not too far away and sometimes we have dances together.”
Santos opened his mouth to offer some sage advice about women but realized before he embarrassed himself that he possessed not a single shred of valuable insight.
Sergio Calderon’s law office was in a modern sandstone building with startling splashes of modern art decorating the halls. He was a handsome man, in his sixties, and dressed in a beautifully tailored gray suit and paisley tie. He welcomed Miguel’s heirs into a richly furnished conference room, where considerable attention had been given to providing seating arrangements to separate his two ex-wives, and give Carmen and Cirilda the preferred seating at his right. Santos was seated on his left.
Rafael followed Maggie into the room and took a seat against the wall. He was dressed in black, and she’d worn the white top and her long green skirt. When she got home, she intended to donate every single item of black clothing she owned.
With Carmen’s first glimpse of Rafael, her lip curled in a silent snarl. “There’s no reason for the Gypsy to be here.”
“I asked Rafael to come with me,” Maggie replied. She slipped into her place beside Santos and Fox. “Is there any legal reason that would prevent Mr. Mondragon from being here, Mr. Calderon?”
“No, he’s welcome.” His voice had a hoarse, raspy quality as though he’d argued one too many cases in court.
Ana Santillan came striding in on silver platform heels, with a short black leather skirt and a ruffled pink top. She took the last place at the end of the table and, without glancing Santos’s way, greeted the others with a smile. “Good morning.”
The twins and Fox responded with their own warm greetings while Marina turned away. Vida nodded, but Maria Luisa and Enrique stared at the model as though a woman with her beauty was a rare curiosity.
“Don’t tell me she’s welcome too.” Carmen stood briefly to tug the skirt of her black suit into place.
“Yes, Señora Aragon, Miss Santillan is mentioned in your son’s will. He also made generous provisions for the people who have worked for him over the years. They’ll be receiving letters from me and needn’t be here with us today.
“Miguel may have discussed portions of his will with some of you, but he took great care in recent weeks to make it current, a premonition, perhaps, of how little time he had remaining.”
Vida choked back a sob, and her daughter gave her a comforting hug, while her son appeared embarrassed by her open display of emotion and moved his chair closer to Ana’s.
Mr. Calderon opened a leather folder. “Miguel wrote letters to each of you, but I’ll pass them out when you leave. He asked that you read them in private, so please take them home rather than open them here.”
He pulled the first sheet of the thick will from the folder. “Miguel wanted Santos to have the Hispano-Suiza, the ranch, the condo building in Madrid and the cottage in the Seychelles.” He handed Santos a copy of that portion of the will. “As well as many of his personal effects.”
“Miguel left him the ranch?” Cirilda asked, clearly alarmed. “It’s been our family home for generations. How could he give it away?”
Santos shook his head. “I’m his son, and I was born there, Auntie. That qualifies me as part of the family. I’ll not turn you away when you come to visit. Can you even remember the last time you were there?”
Mr. Calderon raised his hand. “Please, let us continue. Santos must leave the ranch to his heirs, and if he dies without issue, it will still remain as part of the Aragon trust. If anyone has another question, please save it until later and approach me in private. The beach house is yours, Cirilda, and you’re to share it with your mother. Miguel asked that the house always be open to his children and their families.”
“He expected us to turn our home into a resort?” Carmen asked, her heavily shadowed eyes wide.
The attorney sighed softly. “These are your grandchildren, Carmen. You should welcome them.”
Her face flushed, she grabbed the sheet Mr. Calderon handed her and slapped it on the table. Cirilda picked it up to read.
“Maria Luisa and Enrique, your support will continue until you’re eighteen. A trust fund has been created for your university expenses. If you fail to graduate, the trust will be reassigned for your children’s education.”
Enrique leaned back in his chair. “What if I don’t want to go to college? What if I want to buy a car or travel? Can’t I have the money now?”
“The trust is for your education, Enrique. If you need a car to get to class, we’ll discuss it. Today is not the time, however. Do you understand, Maria Luisa? Your father’s priority was to provide for your university education.”
“Yes, I understand,” she responded, looking lost rather than angry.
“The conditions are the same for Consuelo and Esperanza. You’ll be well provided for until you’re eighteen. Your trust is to be used for your university education or saved for your children’s college expenses.”
Enrique slouched down in his chair. “Did he attend college himself?”
“He met my mother at the University of Arizona,” Maggie interjected.
“A catastrophe,” Carmen muttered under her breath.
“Naturally, I don’t agree,” Maggie added.
“Now for David Hyde-Fox. Miguel has named Santos as your guardian. You’ve also been well provided for until you’re eighteen, and your university expenses are held in trust.”
“He never cared about education before,” Enrique muttered.
The attorney caught his gaze. “He was firmly committed to doing what is best for his children. If you are not grateful now, you will be someday.”
“Magdalena, you, Santos and I will be the administrators of the trust. Augustín made wise investments, and so did Miguel. With careful investments, we can continue to build the resources of the Aragon family.” He passed an information folder to Maggie and Santos.
“Wait a minute,” Cirilda cried. “How can we run the
beach house if Miguel isn’t there to cover the expenses?”
“You will receive a household allowance. You needn’t worry you’ll be reduced to relying on charity. The funds Augustín left for you and your mother should continue to cover your personal expenses, and you have your divorce settlements. I would like to meet with Magdalena and Santos to choose a time to discuss the trust, so would you two please remain after the others leave? I also need a moment with you, Miss Santillan.” He laid the letters on the table. “Miguel put a great deal of time and thought into these, and I hope each of you will cherish them.”
Rafael rose to open the door, and Vida, Maria Luisa and Enrique picked up their letters and left first. He smiled as Carmen and Cirilda walked by, while they regarded him with an undisguised loathing. The twins paused to hug Maggie, and then their mother hurried them to the door.
“We miss you,” they cried. “When will we see you again?”
Maggie embraced them. “I hope it’ll be someday soon.” She smiled at Marina. “I’m sorry we had no chance to talk when you came to the beach house.”
“I doubt we have much in common,” she replied. “Come, let’s go. No one is paying you to model here.”
“Mr. Mondragon,” the attorney asked, “would you please take Mr. Hyde-Fox downstairs to the café? I neglected to provide refreshments. Give us a half hour or so, please.”
Fox handed his letter to Santos. “Will you keep this for me?”
“I’ll be glad to.”
After Rafael had closed the door on his way out, Mr. Calderon opened a cupboard in the wood-paneled wall to remove a blue velvet jeweler’s box. “This is for you, Miss Santillan. Miguel regretted not being able to give you this ring with a heartfelt proposal, but he couldn’t bear to leave you a widow.”
Ana’s hands shook as she opened the box to reveal a gorgeous pear-shaped pink diamond ring. Shocked, she looked to Santos, who appeared as surprised as she. “He never mentioned marriage to me. I’d no idea he wanted to propose.” She sank into her seat, and tears flooded her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. “I’m sorry, but this is such a surprise. I thought he might leave me a painting or some pretty trinket.”
Mr. Calderon understood her dismay. “We’ll wait a minute for you to collect yourself, Miss Santillan. Santos is familiar with the trust, but you’ll want to review the portfolio, Miss Aragon.”
Maggie set aside her father’s letter, the second he’d written to her on the heavy vellum stationery with the kingdom of Aragon crest. She was more interested in what he’d said than in the trust, but when she opened the folder, she found an astonishing sum had been invested. She looked up at Santos, who winked at her.
“As an administrator, you’ll be generously paid for your time,” the attorney said.
Ana slid the engagement ring onto her right hand and left with a sniffled good-bye. Santos rose but didn’t stop her. “Don’t say a word,” he cautioned Maggie.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, but Augustín married the wrong woman, and our father did it repeatedly. You’re sure to do better.”
“I told you I’m not getting married, ever.” He sat and pushed his chair away from the table to be more comfortable. “You ought to have the kids, Magdalena, and I’ll leave the ranch to the little half-Gypsy brats. It’ll be good to have some new blood in the family.”
“My children won’t be brats,” she emphasized, without commenting on who their father might be. Then the mention of blood struck her. “Do you have the same blood type as Father did?” she asked.
“Yes, A positive. What about you?”
“Mine’s A positive too.” With his exotic Gypsy background, she doubted Rafael would share their blood type. Feeling sick, she grabbed the edge of the table. Her father must have known heart recipients and their donors had to share the same blood type. He’d mentioned fans donated blood before bullfights, so without too much difficulty, he could have discovered the blood type of any matador he chose. Or he could have focused on Santos and used Rafael to push his son into taking ever more dangerous risks.
Mr. Calderon noted the sudden paleness of her skin. “The last few days have been difficult for us all, Miss Aragon, but a very fine investment firm handles the family trust, and you won’t be expected to consider individual investments. You’ll simply meet with us each quarter to review the portfolio.”
The Aragon trust was the least of her worries. “I’m a teacher and might not be able to visit Spain that often.”
Santos sat forward. “You’re still going home? Why? What do you have there that compares to what you have here?”
She had a ready answer. “Men who don’t risk their lives every weekend.”
“Our father died in his bed, or damn close to it, and so did Augustín.”
“Let’s not argue,” she stressed.
The attorney looked between them and hastened to regain control of the conversation. “Miss Aragon, we can set the quarterly meetings for a time you find convenient, perhaps during your holiday vacations. All your expenses will be paid by the trust.”
“Thank you, but I’m still a poor choice for an administrator’s job. Did my father suggest any alternates?”
The attorney drew in a deep breath. “No. His mother and sister lack any sort of financial sense. His other children are too young. Please consider this an honor.”
“Of course,” she replied, utterly overwhelmed. “I just wish he’d told me what he expected from me.”
“I’ll take care of everything, Magdalena,” Santos promised. “You won’t need to become a CPA.”
“Thank you.” She found a faint smile but felt more like weeping as Ana had. She couldn’t think of her father without seeing the guilt in his eyes. He hadn’t been horrified by her question but by his own answer.
Fox was seated facing the entrance to the café and saw Ana walk up to the counter. “There’s Ana. I’ll ask her to sit with us.” He sprang out of the booth, then caught himself and slowed his pace to walk toward her.
She looked over her shoulder, saw Rafael and returned with Fox. “I’m just taking coffee to go,” she murmured, “but I wanted to say good-bye to you both. Santos and I didn’t see each other for long, but I wish we hadn’t been fighting in front of you.” When she flopped her purse on the table, her spectacular diamond ring was impossible to miss.
Fox grabbed her hand. “Is this what Miguel left you?”
Ana pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? But it will make me far too sad to wear it. Maybe I’ll donate it for a charity auction.”
“No, you ought to keep it,” Rafael advised. “It suits you.”
“Really?” Ana turned her hand, and the diamond caught the light and sparkled even brighter. “I did love Miguel, but…”
Fox and Rafael listened, but she failed to continue. The waitress brought her coffee in a lidded take-out cup, and she added cream and sugar. “I should have asked for copies of your photos,” Rafael said.
“I gave Magdalena two copies of you two dancing, so there’s one for you. There’s an extra one of her with you, Fox, and another for Santos with her. There are also extra copies of you and Santos walking into the arena last Sunday.” She opened her purse for her car keys and withdrew a business card. “Call me if you ever need a photographer.”
Fox got up and walked her to the entrance and came back with a card of his own.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked.
“Just once,” Rafael replied, and he ate the last bite of his chocolate cake.
Santos waited until they’d pulled up in front of the ranch to speak. “My leg’s too sore to fight this Sunday. There are men lined up to take my place, but I thought the crowd might rather see you, Rafael. Would you like to talk to my agent?”
Rafael set the brake, withdrew the keys from the ignition and turned to hand them to Santos. “If I take your place, I should receive what you would have been paid.” He neglected to glance to
ward Maggie for her opinion.
“No, if I’m giving the fights to you, we split 50-50,” Santos argued. “That’s more than you were paid last Sunday.”
“Yes, but not enough,” Rafael argued. “If I can take your place, then I’m worth what you’re worth.”
“Not even close, but maybe my leg will be better by Sunday.”
“No, it won’t,” Maggie argued, “and you know it. Don’t let Rafael goad you into fighting when you’re not fit to do so.”
“I’m not goading,” Rafael denied, but his lazy grin gave him away.
“I can’t listen to this.” Maggie left the men in the SUV with Fox. She sat down on the front porch and pulled her father’s letter from her purse. The flap was unsealed, and she opened it slowly and took a deep breath before unfolding the single sheet.
I’m so proud of you and wish I’d been a better father. May your life always be blessed with love.
She felt too numb to appreciate the touching thoughts and refolded the letter and returned it to its envelope. She’d save it with the photos. The small collection would be a time capsule, like her mother’s cherished box. Appalled by the odd pairing of sentiment and guilt, she looked up just as Rafael stepped onto the porch. Santos and Fox remained talking together by the SUV.
“I imagine you struck a tough bargain,” she said.
He took the chair beside hers. “Of course. I don’t trust agents to look out for anyone but themselves.”
“Is there anyone you do trust?”
He reached over to catch her hand. “Other than you, no.”
“That’s probably wise.” Her hand nearly disappeared into his. “Mr. Calderon wants me to study the family portfolio tonight and meet again tomorrow with Santos. Will you be able to stay here another day?”
“Yes. Let’s ask Refugio to make some sandwiches and go out to the tree to eat.”
“I’d much rather do that than study columns of figures. I do balance my checkbook each month when I receive my bank statement, but I don’t know anything about investments.”