manners. "Let's hope so."
"We haven't seen you around here in weeks—been busy," she said even as he uttered the words, then she laughed. "Naturally. What are you up to, other than business?"
"What else is there?"
With a shake of her head, she pressed the olives on him again. "You're more like my mother than any of us. Weren't you seeing someone last summer? A pretty blonde? Pat, Patty?"
"Patsy. Not really seeing. Just sort of…" He made a vague gesture. "You know."
"Honey, you need to get out more. And not just for… you know."
It was such a mother thing to say, he had to smile. "I could say the same about you."
"Oh, I'm just an old stick-in-the-mud."
"Best-looking stick in the room," he countered and made her laugh again.
"You always were sweet when you put your mind to it." And the comment, even from a man she considered a kind of surrogate son, boosted the spirits that seemed to flag all too easily these days.
"Mama, you're hoarding the olives." Sophia dashed up, plucked one off the plate. Beside her lovely, composed mother, she was a fireball, crackling with electricity. The kind that was always giving you hot, unexpected jolts if you got too close.
Or so it always seemed to Ty.
For that single reason, he'd always tried to keep a safe and comfortable distance.
"Quick, talk to me. Were you just going to leave me trapped with Don the Dull forever?" Sophia muttered.
"Poor Sophie. Well, think of it this way. It's probably the first time in weeks he's been able to say five words at the same time without Gina interrupting him."
"Believe me, he made up for it." She rolled her dark, exotic eyes. "So, Ty, how are you?"
"Fine."
"Hard at work for MacMillan?"
"Sure."
"Know any words with more than one syllable?"
"Some. Thought you were in New York."
"Was," she said, mimicking his tone as her lips twitched. "Now I'm here." She glanced over her shoulder as her two young cousins began to shriek and sob. "Mama, if I was ever that obnoxious, how did you stop yourself from drowning me in the fountain?"
"You weren't obnoxious, sweetie. Demanding, arrogant, temperamental, but never obnoxious. Excuse me." She handed the plate to Sophia and went to do what she'd always done best. Make peace.
"I suppose I should have done that," Sophia said with a sigh as she watched her mother scoop up the miserable young girl. "But I've never seen a pair of kids less appealing in my life."
"Comes from being spoiled and neglected."
"At the same time?" She considered, studied Don ignoring his screaming son, and Gina making foolish cooing noises to him. "Good call," she decided. Then because they weren't her problem—thank Jesus—she turned her attention back to Tyler.
He was such a… man, she decided. He looked like something carved out of the Vacas that guarded the valley.
And he was certainly more pleasant to contemplate than the four-year-old temper tantrum behind her.
Now if she could just pry a reasonable conversation out of him, she could be nicely occupied until lunch was served.
"Any clues about the theme of our little gathering today?" Sophia asked
"No."
"Would you tell me if you knew?"
He shrugged a shoulder and watched Pilar murmur to little Tereza as she carried her to the side window. She looked natural, he thought. Madonnalike, he supposed was the suitable word. And because of it, the irritable, angry child took on an attractive, appealing look.
"Why do you suppose people have kids when they're not going to pay any real attention to them?"
Sophia started to speak, then broke off as her father and Rene walked into the room. "That's a good question," she murmured and, taking the glass from his hand, finished off his wine. "Damn good question."
At the window, Pilar tensed, and all the simple pleasure she'd gotten from distracting the unhappy little girl drained away.
She felt instantly frumpy, unattractive, old, fat, sour. Here was the man who had discarded her. And here was the latest in the long line of
"We haven't seen you around here in weeks—been busy," she said even as he uttered the words, then she laughed. "Naturally. What are you up to, other than business?"
"What else is there?"
With a shake of her head, she pressed the olives on him again. "You're more like my mother than any of us. Weren't you seeing someone last summer? A pretty blonde? Pat, Patty?"
"Patsy. Not really seeing. Just sort of…" He made a vague gesture. "You know."
"Honey, you need to get out more. And not just for… you know."
It was such a mother thing to say, he had to smile. "I could say the same about you."
"Oh, I'm just an old stick-in-the-mud."
"Best-looking stick in the room," he countered and made her laugh again.
"You always were sweet when you put your mind to it." And the comment, even from a man she considered a kind of surrogate son, boosted the spirits that seemed to flag all too easily these days.
"Mama, you're hoarding the olives." Sophia dashed up, plucked one off the plate. Beside her lovely, composed mother, she was a fireball, crackling with electricity. The kind that was always giving you hot, unexpected jolts if you got too close.
Or so it always seemed to Ty.
For that single reason, he'd always tried to keep a safe and comfortable distance.
"Quick, talk to me. Were you just going to leave me trapped with Don the Dull forever?" Sophia muttered.
"Poor Sophie. Well, think of it this way. It's probably the first time in weeks he's been able to say five words at the same time without Gina interrupting him."
"Believe me, he made up for it." She rolled her dark, exotic eyes. "So, Ty, how are you?"
"Fine."
"Hard at work for MacMillan?"
"Sure."
"Know any words with more than one syllable?"
"Some. Thought you were in New York."
"Was," she said, mimicking his tone as her lips twitched. "Now I'm here." She glanced over her shoulder as her two young cousins began to shriek and sob. "Mama, if I was ever that obnoxious, how did you stop yourself from drowning me in the fountain?"
"You weren't obnoxious, sweetie. Demanding, arrogant, temperamental, but never obnoxious. Excuse me." She handed the plate to Sophia and went to do what she'd always done best. Make peace.
"I suppose I should have done that," Sophia said with a sigh as she watched her mother scoop up the miserable young girl. "But I've never seen a pair of kids less appealing in my life."
"Comes from being spoiled and neglected."
"At the same time?" She considered, studied Don ignoring his screaming son, and Gina making foolish cooing noises to him. "Good call," she decided. Then because they weren't her problem—thank Jesus—she turned her attention back to Tyler.
He was such a… man, she decided. He looked like something carved out of the Vacas that guarded the valley.
And he was certainly more pleasant to contemplate than the four-year-old temper tantrum behind her.
Now if she could just pry a reasonable conversation out of him, she could be nicely occupied until lunch was served.
"Any clues about the theme of our little gathering today?" Sophia asked
"No."
"Would you tell me if you knew?"
He shrugged a shoulder and watched Pilar murmur to little Tereza as she carried her to the side window. She looked natural, he thought. Madonnalike, he supposed was the suitable word. And because of it, the irritable, angry child took on an attractive, appealing look.
"Why do you suppose people have kids when they're not going to pay any real attention to them?"
Sophia started to speak, then broke off as her father and Rene walked into the room. "That's a good question," she murmured and, taking the glass from his hand, finished off his wine. "Damn good question."
At the window, Pilar tensed, and all the simple pleasure she'd gotten from distracting the unhappy little girl drained away.
She felt instantly frumpy, unattractive, old, fat, sour. Here was the man who had discarded her. And here was the latest in the long line of
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