Twenty

Gabriel signed the last of the hospital paperwork, nodded at the nurse and rested his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Mercedes said emphatically.

The nurse soothed her. “It’s policy, Mrs. Mendoza. You’ll be out of it soon enough.”

Gabriel watched his mother visibly restrain herself. He hid a smile. Maybe this stint in the hospital had been good for her—and, if not for her, for everyone else.

“Do you want to stop for something to eat?” he asked when they were alone in the car.

“All I want is to go home, sleep in my own bed and cook my own food.”

Gabriel hesitated. “The doctor talked to me about your diet. He told me he discussed it with you, too.”

“I’m not going on a diet.”

He changed the subject. “Whitney’s been doing some research on Asberger’s.”

Mercedes’s face lit up. “She’s a sweet girl. Imagine, going to such trouble for us.”

“She told me that certain foods trigger spells, and by eliminating them completely, symptoms disappear.”

“Hmm. That’s nice.” Mercedes looked out the window.

“Ma, did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you, mijito.”

“It’s going to take some time, three months or so, but she believes we can help Claire if we cook the right way.”

“I always cook the right way.”

“You aren’t cooking with the right foods.”

She glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Corn, dairy products and glutens have to go.”

“What are glutens?”

“They’re found in wheat and processed foods.”

Mercedes looked thoughtful. “Wheat and corn are staples, mijito. How will we eat if I can’t use those?”

Encouraged that she would go so far as to even continue the subject, Gabriel explained. “It isn’t as hard as it sounds. Food is just more basic, that’s all. Meat, chicken, fish, potatoes, vegetables, salads are all okay.”

“What about milk? Claire is a little girl. She needs strong bones. How can we not give her milk?”

“There are substitutes. She can take supplements. Dark green vegetables are full of calcium.”

“What about desserts, cookies and ice cream? It doesn’t seem right to punish her for something she can’t help.”

Gabriel sighed. “Food isn’t a reward, Ma, and healthy food isn’t a punishment. Claire likes Popsicles and sorbet. There’s also gluten-free flour. We’d all be better off with a diet like that. I’m actually enjoying it.”

Mercedes sniffed. “How scientific is this diet? Why haven’t any of the doctors you’ve taken her to mentioned it?”

“Because most doctors don’t think in terms of nutrition. This isn’t a quick fix. It’s part of a lifestyle that Claire will have to assume for as long as she lives. We should give it a try. Even if doesn’t help, it can’t hurt.”

Mercedes was quiet for several minutes. “I suppose if Whitney believes this will work, we should try it.”

Gabriel stared at his mother.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said huffily. “The woman is smart. She knows things. Besides, I won’t be able to manage on my own for a while. Whitney should be able to cook the way she wants.”

“Hold on a minute.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “She’s going home as agreed, Ma. We’ll manage without her. We have to.”

His mother’s lips tightened stubbornly.

Again Gabriel changed the subject. It was the only way to avoid an argument. “Lynne’s suing me for custody of Eric and Emma. I have to find a lawyer right away. The court date is set for three weeks from now.”

“I don’t believe she’d really do that.”

“Believe it. There’s more. Kristen is back, temporarily. She wants money from the Lipizzaner sale.”

Mercedes stared at her son’s profile until he looked at her. “I thought you weren’t selling.”

“I may have to.”

“Not for her, mijito. I’ll scrub floors for the rest of my life before I see that woman get one penny of our money.”

Gabriel smiled. “It won’t come to that.”

“Whitney’s a lawyer. What does she say?”

“Her specialty isn’t family law and she doesn’t practice in California. I have to find someone here.”

“She must have an opinion,” his mother persisted.

Gabe nodded. “She believes that because the business was mine before my marriage and because Kristen left me to support her children, I won’t get hit too badly.”

“Good.”

“She does think Kristen will be entitled to something, Ma. She’ll have to pay child support because she’s responsible for the kids, too, but she’s entitled to spousal support. We’ll probably have to settle.”

“What’s the matter with you, mijito? Are you afraid to fight?”

“It isn’t a fight, Ma,” he said wearily. “It’s about what’s fair and legal. The average divorce in this state costs each partner eighteen thousand dollars. This one could end up costing a lot more, after the fact. I don’t want to go through all that again. It’s emotionally as well as financially draining.”

“Why doesn’t she just drive herself off the nearest cliff?” Mercedes muttered. “No one would be the worse for it.”

“The kids need their mother,” Gabriel said tersely. “Even a part-time mother.”

Mercedes didn’t comment. They drove the rest of the way in silence. The door opened as they pulled into the lot and Whitney stepped out onto the porch. Claire was with her.

Gabriel helped his mother climb out of the car and then handed over her crutches. She stood, balancing awkwardly. “I’ve missed you, mijito,” she said to Claire. “Come and kiss me.” Obediently the little girl walked to her grandmother and slipped her arms around her ample middle. Mercedes kissed the dark little head. “My goodness, you’ve grown in only a few days.” She smiled at Whitney. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We’re all so glad to have you back. Ramona and Pilar are coming later today. Luz called this morning. I told her about your accident. She’s flying home tomorrow.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Mercedes clucked. “My girls are good girls, but they worry too much. What’s to worry when we have you?”

“Whitney is leaving tomorrow, Ma,” Gabriel reminded her. “I told you in the car.”

“Tomorrow?” Mercedes’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t think—”

“Tomorrow,” Gabriel said firmly.

Whitney’s eyes twinkled. “It sounds like he wants to get rid of me, doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean—” he began, and then stopped when he realized she was teasing.

“I have to go home,” Whitney admitted. “I’d like to stay longer, but it isn’t possible. You don’t have anyone scheduled to rent the rooms until next weekend. Ramona and Pilar said they’d be here on Friday to get everything ready.”

“I’d like you to stay longer as our guest,” replied Mercedes. “It was never my intention to use you as unpaid help.”

“I know that,” Whitney assured her. “Let’s go inside. Eric and Emma will be home soon, and since this is my last night to cook, I’ll make something special.”

Mercedes limped past her. “Thank goodness my room is downstairs. I think I’ll have a little something to drink and take a nap.”

“Let me get it for you,” said Whitney. “I have sodas and lemonade. If you’d like something hot, I can make tea.”

Mercedes waited until Gabriel had disappeared into her room with her overnight bag. “I want a little something more,” she whispered. “Maybe a glass of sangria or a lavender margarita.”

“I’m afraid both of those are beyond me.”

Gabriel reappeared. “Tea, Ma. You can have tea or a diet soda. Later, at dinner, you can have a glass of red wine. No sangria and no margaritas ”

Without answering him, Mercedes, on her crutches, lurched into her room and shut the door.

Whitney raised her eyebrows.

Gabriel’s face was grim. “She’s not winning this one.”