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or how his childhood had shaped him into the adult he was now. He never refused an indigent patient, or turned his back on anyone who needed help. He was the most generous man she’d ever know.
    Isadora hated that facet of his personality.
    â€œHe gives money away to people on the street, can you believe it?” Isadora had asked at Christmas the second year of her marriage. “We had an unholy row about it. They’re the flotsam of the earth. You don’t give money to people like that!”
    Noreen didn’t say a word. She frequently contributed what little she could spare to a food fund for the homeless, even volunteering during holidays to help serve it.
    One day during the holidays, to her amazement, she’d found Ramon putting on an apron over his suit to join her at the serving line.
    â€œDon’t look so shocked,” he’d said at her expression. “Half the staff sneaks down here at one time or another to do what they can.”
    She’d ladled soup at his side for an hour in the crowded confines, sick with gratitude for her own meager income and a roof over her head as the hopeless poor of the city crowded into the warmth of the hall for a hot meal. Tears had stung her eyes as a woman with two small children had smiled and thanked them for their one meal of the day.
    Ramon’s hand had come up into hers with a handkerchief. “No ¡hagas!” he’d whispered in Spanish. Don’t do that.
    â€œI don’t imagine you ever shed tears,” she’d muttered as she wiped her eyes unobtrusively with the spotless white handkerchief that smelled of exotic spices.
    He’d laughed softly. “No?”
    She glanced at him curiously.
    â€œI care about my patients,” he told her quietly. “I’m not made of stone, when I lose one.”
    She averted her eyes to the soup and concentrated onputting it into the bowls. “Latins are passionate about everything, they say,” she’d murmured without thinking.
    â€œAbout everything,” he’d replied in a tone that made her shiver inexplicably.
    She’d tried to give him back the handkerchief, but he’d refused it at first.
    His eyes had been cruel as they met hers over it. “Put it under your pillow,” he’d chided. “Perhaps the dreams it inspires will make up for the emptiness in your life.”
    Her gasp of shock had seemed to bring him to his senses.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” he’d replied stiffly. And, taking the handkerchief back, he’d shoved it into his slacks pocket as if the sight of it angered him.
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    Over the years there had been other incidents. Once she’d been summoned by Isadora to drive her downtown when Ramon had refused to let her use the Jaguar.
    She’d barely been admitted by the flustered maid when she heard the furious voices coming from the living room.
    â€œI’ll spend what I like!” Isadora was yelling at her husband. “God knows, I deserve a few luxuries, since I don’t have a husband! You spend every waking hour at the office or in the hospital! We never have meals together! We don’t even sleep together…!”
    â€œIsadora!” Noreen had called, to alert her cousin to her appearance before the argument got any hotter.
    â€œWhat’s she doing here?” Noreen heard Ramon ask furiously as she walked toward the living room, hesitating for a second at the open door.
    â€œShe’s driving me to the mall,” Isadora had toldhim hatefully, “since you won’t!” She glanced toward Noreen. “Well, come in, come in,” she called angrily. “Don’t stand out there like a shadow!”
    Ramon’s hot glance told her what he thought of her and her usual, off-duty attire. She was the soul of neatness on the job, in her ward, but she still dressed like a farm girl when she was off duty.
    â€œHonestly, Norie, haven’t you got any other