Thirty

Mercedes sighed. She tapped her index finger against the glass of wine that was now half empty. Normally, she would have replenished it, but Gabriel showed no signs of leaving the room and she didn’t feel like arguing with him. He was standing by the window staring out at the darkening sky. He’d been there for a long time. Something was definitely wrong. She didn’t like to interfere. No one would ever call her an interfering woman, but when her children needed her, Mercedes set her scruples aside.

She sighed. Gabriel was so sensitive. He looked weary to the bone. It was time to take the offensive. “What is it, mijito? How can I help you?”

He looked surprised, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Nothing, Ma. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Tell me what has you so troubled.”

“I’m not troubled,” he said, much too quickly.

“You’re a terrible liar. Did you tell that man you’re not selling him our horses?”

Gabe shook his head. “No. He’ll get his horses.”

Mercedes released her breath. She’d been worried. “It’s the right thing to do, Gabriel.”

“I know.”

“If it isn’t the horses, what is it?” she persisted.

“Please, Ma. Leave it alone. I’m fine.”

“Is it Whitney? Did you have a fight?”

“Whitney and I don’t fight.”

Mercedes’s eyes gleamed. “You should fight, mijito. Passion is good for a marriage. If you don’t fight, you don’t get scared, and if you don’t get scared, you don’t make up and if you don’t make up, you don’t appreciate what you have.” She shook her finger at him. “Do you hear what I’m telling you, Gabriel?”

“I hear you, Ma. If we don’t fight, we won’t appreciate each other,” he paraphrased.

“That’s right. Next time something bothers you, you should fight.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“What did you say?”

He turned, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. “I said, there won’t be a next time.”

“Why not?”

“We won’t be seeing her anymore.”

“What did you do?” she demanded.

“What did I do?” He laughed bitterly. “Why are you assuming it was me?”

“Because I know you,” she said flatly. “The woman is crazy about you.”

“Not crazy enough.”

“I know you better than you think, mijito. What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. She’s the one who said she didn’t want any part of a conditional relationship. What in the hell does that mean? All relationships are conditional. Would she put up with me if I cheated, or drank or gambled, or if I stopped loving her?”

“That’s not the point,” said Mercedes.

“What is the point? I didn’t want her to give up what she has if I could only offer her less. That kind of resentment can kill a marriage. I’ve been there, done that. Excuse me if I don’t want to repeat the past. No, thank you.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Mercedes said sadly. “I’ve raised a foolish son.”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re not giving her the benefit of the doubt,” Mercedes continued. “She isn’t Kristen. The woman deserves to make her own choices. She’s not twenty, mijito. Maybe she’s had all the things she thought she wanted. Maybe she wants something else. By deciding for her, you’ve insulted her. Besides, you’re selling the horses. She won’t be giving up anything.”

“She’s done with me, Ma. She said it herself. It doesn’t matter whether I sell or not.”

“Talk to her, Gabriel. Change her mind.”

He was silent. Mercedes hoped he was thinking. Like a good stew, there were times when words should sit on the mind. She stretched out her injured leg and stood carefully. “I’ll finish dinner,” she said.

Gabriel didn’t answer.

Claire sat up in her bed, leaning against her pillows. Her knees were pulled close to her chest and she was flipping through the pages of a book. At the doorway of her room, Gabe hesitated. He would have given anything to avoid the news that he brought to his daughter. Lately, she seemed so much better, almost normal, as long as he ignored the occasional vacant look in her eyes. Having Eric and Emma around helped to distract him from her silences.

“Hi, honey,” he said softly.

She looked up. “Hi, Daddy.”

“What are you reading?”

She held up the book. He smiled. What little girl, crazy about horses, hadn’t read Misty of Chincoteague? “

Emma started reading it to me and I’m finishing it.”

He sat down beside her on the bed. “Smile for me, Claire.”

Obediently the seam of her lips separated over her missing front teeth.

“I have to tell you something sad,” he began.

She waited expectantly, staring at him with Kristen’s blue eyes.

He swallowed. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild, with a faery, hand in hand, for the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. “Do you remember the story I told you about how Granddad brought our horses from Austria?”

She nodded.

“He never planned on keeping them here forever.”

Again she nodded.

He swallowed. “It’s time for them to go back to Austria.”

She thought a minute. “Why?”

Gabriel considered his promise of silence to Werner Pohl and decided it didn’t apply to Claire. “The Spanish Riding School needs our horses. Theirs are sick and can’t perform anymore.”

“How did they get sick?”

“Nobody really knows. They have a disease that makes their front legs lame.”

“Will they get well after ours come?”

“No. It isn’t the kind of sickness that gets better.”

“Will our horses get sick?”

Sometimes it amazed him the way her mind leaped. “No,” he said gently. “Ours won’t get sick.”

“What will we do if we don’t have any more horses?”

“We’ll have the stable and the dressage center. We’ll keep all the horses who aren’t Lipizzaners.”

“Lorelei is a Lipizzaner.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Claire. Lorelei has to go, too.”

She slipped her small hand into his. “When?”

He frowned. This couldn’t be as easy as it seemed. “Soon. Do you understand what I’m saying, Claire? Lorelei has to go to Austria. She won’t be here with us anymore.”

“She has to go, Daddy. She wouldn’t be happy with all her foals and the rest of her friends gone.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“No. If we kept Lorelei, she’d be like Mommy.” Gabe was thoroughly confused. “How would she be like Mommy?”

“She’d be away from her family and it would make her sad, like Mommy’s sad now.”

“How do you know she’s sad?”

Claire’s eyes widened. “Every time I see her, she looks sad. She says she misses us.”

Gabe tucked a curl behind his daughter’s ear. “What do you think we should do so that Mommy isn’t sad?”

She shrugged and resumed reading her book. Gabe understood the signs. Claire’s attention had wandered. The discussion was finished. He was surprised it had lasted as long as it had. He kissed her cheek and stood. “I’ll come back and turn out the light when it’s time for bed.”

Claire, absorbed in Misty, didn’t reply.

Gabe left a message on Whitney’s voice mail the following morning telling her he would accept the terms of the original contract. He didn’t expect a reply. By noon a copy of the contract had been faxed back to him and by three o’clock he’d returned it with the necessary signatures. At four o’clock he was seated with Eric and Emma beside Adam Winchester in the lawyer’s conference room. Kristen, her mother and their attorney sat on the other side of the table.

Lynne spoke first. “I don’t think it was necessary to bring the children, Gabriel.”

“They aren’t babies and this concerns them,” Gabe replied.

“Still, I don’t think—”

Kristen interrupted. “They’re already here, Mom. Let’s just move on, shall we?”

Adam Winchester leaned forward. “It was my suggestion that Eric and Emma be here. It’s customary to have teenage children give their parents input on how they’re feeling about decisions that are made for them.”

Lynne pursed her lips and settled back in her chair.

Her lawyer, Jim Thatcher, spoke next. “Mrs. Chamberlain feels that the children should be with a blood relative, preferably their mother. Given Mrs. Mendoza’s schedule, however, that isn’t possible. Therefore, as their maternal grandmother, she is willing to take the children into her custody until their mother’s situation changes.”

“Jim, that’s the most interesting custody interpretation I’ve ever heard,” said Winchester. “Where in the hell did you study family law?”

“I see no reason to get personal, Mr. Winchester,” said the lawyer stiffly.

“You can’t possibly think you can win this one in court.”

“I certainly do.”

Winchester hooted. “Let’s see, now.” He scratched his head. “We’ve got a mother who abandoned her children. We’ve got a widowed grandmother too old tohandle active teenagers. We’ve got a stepfather, the only father the children have ever known, who picked up the ball and who works within walking distance of the family home. You have two teenagers who want to stay right where they are. I wonder who the court will decide for?” His smile disappeared. “Get real, Thatcher. They obviously don’t pay you enough, or you wouldn’t have taken this one.”

Jim Thatcher frowned. “Mr. Mendoza may be the only father they’ve known, but the fact remains that he isn’t their biological father. He didn’t even adopt them.”

“Only because their late father’s social security benefits would cease—benefits, by the way, that Kristen Mendoza is still collecting, even though the children no longer live with her.”

Thatcher protested. “I don’t see the relevance—”

“It doesn’t matter whether you see it,” interrupted Winchester. “The point is, it’s illegal to collect money for the support of children who are not dependents. The IRS frowns on fraud. Be assured they will be notified.”

Kristen’s cheeks burned. She swallowed, ignored the attorney and looked at her children. “Is it true that you want to stay with your dad?”

“Yes,” said Eric forcefully.

Emma looked down at her hands.

“What about you, Emma? Do you want to stay with Dad, too?”

She sniffed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave Eric and Claire. I guess I want both of you to be together, like it was.”

Kristen shook her head. “That isn’t going to happen, honey.”

“Then I want to live with both of you, half the time with Dad and half with you.”

“That isn’t possible, either.”

Emma looked at her grandmother and her eyes filled. “I’m sorry, Grandma. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to live at your house unless Mom lives there, too.”

Gabe spoke up. “Kristen, if it’s a matter of money, we can work something out.”

“It has nothing to do with money,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you see, I have to do this for myself. I don’t want to go back to the way it was, living in someone else’s house, always walking on eggshells.”

Gabe couldn’t believe his ears. “What are you talking about?”

“My sentiments exactly,” said Lynne. “What do you mean by walking on eggshells? When have I ever made you feel like that?”

Kristen clenched her fists. “Of course you don’t know. Why would you? It wasn’t happening to you.”

“We’re digressing,” Thatcher said.

Adam Winchester held up his hand. “Hold on, Jim. We may be on to something here.”

Six pairs of eyes stared at him.

“We can resolve this,” he said easily. “Gabe wants the kids. Emma wants to live with both parents. Mrs. Mendoza doesn’t want to move back into someone else’s home.” He looked at Kristen. “What if you had your own home close enough so the kids could stay with you when you’re not touring?”

“I don’t know when that will be,” replied Kristen. “My schedule changes. It might not work with their school.”

“If you’re close to where they go to school, they won’t need much notice.”

“I don’t have the money to buy a house,” Kristen said stiffly.

“That’s where Gabe comes in. I think he could be convinced to buy you a place where you could be with the kids.” He nodded at Gabe. “How does that sound to you, Gabe?”

“It might work,” Gabe said slowly, “with certain conditions.”

Kristen bristled. “What conditions?”

“I’d like you to choose a house that’s close enough for the kids to go back and forth between us on their own.”

“Is that all?”

“You have to agree not to sell the place until all three of them are grown. I want the money to go for a home where they can be with you, nothing else.”

Her lower lip trembled. “You don’t think much of me, do you?”

Her mother broke in. “Let’s not get into that.” She looked thoughtful. “Housing has appreciated tremendously. It might be very expensive to buy a house outright.”

“Since the children are primarily in Gabe’s care, child support won’t be an issue,” Winchester interjected smoothly. “Naturally, the house will be Mrs. Mendoza’s settlement. She will have to pay her own property taxes and waive all rights to spousal support.”

“Now, just a minute,” said Jim Thatcher.

Kristen spoke up. “It’s all right. I’m not interested in being supported. The house is more than generous. I do have a question, though.”

“Go ahead,” said Gabe.

“When the kids are grown, is it mine to sell?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes.”

Kristen relaxed. “All right. It’s a deal.”

Events moved forward swiftly. The sale of the Lipizzaners was finalized without a hitch and the horses moved to Austria with incredible speed. Quarantines were lifted, duties paid, documents of sale and bills of lading prepared for the ocean voyage. Gabe had personally inspected the hold of the cargo ship where the horses would be confined during their week at sea. Two grooms had been sent from the Spanish Riding School to feed and exercise the horses throughout the voyage. Gabe had politely refused Werner Pohl’s invitation to see the Lipizzaners installed in their new home. He didn’t think he was emotionally up to seeing his father’s legacy come full circle. Instead, he’d sent Juan and Eric, payback for missing the Kentucky Derby.

Except for dealing with Emma, whose nose was out of joint at what she saw as blatant favoritism toward her brother, Gabe’s routine hadn’t changed much. With his proceeds, he’d added another turnout, replaced the fencing on two of the rings and bought a badly needed late-model truck. Other than that, the major advantage to having money in the bank was peace of mind. If something broke, he could fix it. If he wanted to make a purchase, he didn’t have to juggle his finances. He looked forward to replenishing his breeding stock at an upcoming auction in the bay area. Two Thoroughbreds he was particularly interested in were up for sale. He would have liked to discuss their merits with Whitney, but he hadn’t heard from her. He didn’t expect to, although he couldn’t help taking a second look whenever he happened upon a slender woman with hair the color of ripe wheat.

Not a day went by that his mother didn’t bring up her name. When he didn’t respond, she shook her head and muttered under her breath. Maybe Mercedes was right. Maybe he was a fool. What he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to hear Whitney say in words he couldn’t misunderstand that it was completely over. This way, at least he could hold on to a slender hope.

Three weeks after the horses had sailed, Gabe locked up his office and reviewed the following day’s itinerary before making his way home through the lavender field. He loved walking home toward the setting sun, across the packed-dirt road shadowed by olive trees that had seen the first Mendoza shape the adobe bricks for the base of the hacienda. Soon the lavender would be ready for harvest. The plants, minus their blooms, would look bare and blue-gray instead of the vibrant purple.

As usual, Mercedes would recruit the women in her family to gather her crop. Gabriel had grown up watching his mother, his sisters and, more recently, his daughters and their friends, swathed in gloves and bamboo hats, hacking systematically through the aisles. The blooms were gathered, tied and hung upside down from the rafters in the hay barn. After the entire crop was in, Mercedes would host an enormous barbecue for everyone who’d helped. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell wood smoke. His mouth watered. Even if it wasn’t barbecue, Whatever his mother had planned for dinner was sure to be good, and he was hungry.

Gabe narrowed his eyes. A large truck pulling a silver horse trailer was parked in front of the house. The doors were open and the ramp was down. His mother, Emma and Claire were watching someone back out a horse. But it wasn’t the horse that caught Gabe’s attention. It was the slim blond woman in gray slacks, a white shirt and black riding boots. His heart pumped painfully. Whitney.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned, her hand shading her forehead against the sun. Then she handed the reins to Claire and began walking toward him, slowly at first and then faster and faster until she was running loosely, easily, as if jogging across an area the size of a football field in riding boots was something she did every day. He must have run, too. They came together in the middle of the field. He reached out, lifted her off the ground and swung her around and around until she was flushed with laughter, and the urge to hold her close overpowered him. In full view of his mother and daughters, he bent his head and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe.

Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he pulled away to look at her. “You changed your mind.”

She laughed her warm, back-throated laugh. “I’ve come to give you a second chance.”

He looked confused. “A second chance?”

“You’re probably confused. I’m going to explain it to you.”

He was confused. “Explain what?”

“What you’re supposed to say when the woman you love tells you she wants to be with you, no matter what your circumstances.”

Relief, like the surge that follows a rush of caffeine, flowed through him. He grinned. “The woman I love?”

She nodded. “Yes. The woman you love, who loves you back.”

“I’m listening.”

She tucked her arm through his and pulled him gently toward the house. “First, let me show you my present.”

“Your present?”

“Actually, it’s Claire’s present.”

“Claire’s present?”

“Really, Gabe,” she teased him. “You’re going to have to stop repeating everything I say. It makes you sound positively henpecked.”

He felt like a kid again. “Give me a break, Whitney. I’m still in a state of shock. Tell me about Claire’s present.”

“It’s a mare. She’s a four-year-old Thoroughbred from my parents’ stable, compliments of Werner Pohl and the Austrian government.”

Gabe stopped and stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.” She spoke quickly, excitedly. “Her name is Firelight and her bloodlines are excellent. She took third place in the Derby last year, but didn’t do well at Saratoga. She’s fast but gentle, and because she’s been handled with kid gloves, she isn’t the least bit temperamental. In other words, she’s perfect for Claire.”

His euphoria faded. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be a good place to start.”

He shook his head.

Before he could speak, she turned on him, her words coming so fast they fell over each other. “Don’t you dare say you can’t accept her, or that she’s too valuable, or any other nonsense coming into your head. You’ve given up your Lipizzaners and they’re far more valuable.”

“It’s not the same, Whitney. I was paid for them.”

“If I remember correctly, you were going to refuse that payment. It wasn’t until Werner Pohl told you about the situation at the school that you agreed. He wanted to show his appreciation for your sacrifice. I suggested another mare. Is that so terrible?”

He didn’t look convinced. “An animal like that is worth a fortune. How much of this is your doing?”

“Gabriel,” she said sadly, dropping her arm. “If you don’t do something about that pride of yours, it’s going to make you very miserable.” She started to walk away.

Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove. “Where are you going?”

“I need a minute,” she said, without turning around. “This time the ball’s in your court.”

He watched her leave, the ring of truth in her words rendering him immobile. Why did it always come down to this between them? He wasn’t a chest-pounding Neanderthal. What was it about this woman that brought out the machismo in his personality?

By the time he reached the porch, Whitney had gone inside with Emma. Claire and his mother waited for him.

“Look, Daddy.” Claire was smiling. “Whitney brought her. Her name is Firelight and she’s from Dr. Pohl. Can I ride her now?”

Gabe took a long look at his daughter’s animated little face and knew he couldn’t deny her this gift. He swallowed. “She’s beautiful,” he said, running his hands over her back and flanks. “Let’s settle her in first and talk about riding in the morning.”

When he returned to the house, Whitney was nowhere to be found. He sent Claire upstairs to wash her hands. His mother was in the kitchen drinking yet another suspicious glass of purple liquid. She shook her head when she saw him. “Gabriel, mijito, why do you keep shooting yourself in the foot?”

“Believe me, it isn’t intentional.”

“You know I’m not an interfering woman, but just this once I’ll make an exception.”

Gabe sighed and sat down at the table across from her. “What is it, Ma?”

“You’re ruining your life,” she said bluntly. “This wonderful woman has come three thousand miles bringing a gift for your daughter and this is how you treat her.”

“I suppose it looks that way, doesn’t it?”

She ignored him. “You should be kissing her feet,promising her the moon, and what do you do?” She shook her head.

He gave up. “I know, Ma. I blew it.”

“You go upstairs right now, knock on her door and tell her you’re sorry that you’ve been such a fool. Tell her it will never happen again.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

Exasperated, she glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot. Read between the lines, mijito. Do I have to do this for you?”

Without thinking, he picked up the glass at his mother’s elbow and drained it. The alcohol hit him immediately. Whatever she was drinking was potent. He shook his head to clear it, then pushed himself away from the table and stood. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll do it myself. I’ll give it all I have, but I can’t be something I’m not. If it isn’t right, it’s better to know now, not later. This time it has to work, Ma. I have to know that this time it’s forever.”

Mercedes took his face in her hands. “Gabriel, my son, my own. You are so fierce, so intense. No one can see forever. All we have is what we know right now. Go with that, mijito. Follow your heart. Take happiness where you find it. If this woman makes you happy, don’t push her away.”

Gabriel focused on the familiar lines of his mother’s face. Except for the thudding of his heart the kitchen was completely silent. Could it really be so simple? He stood. “Wish me luck,” he said lightly.

“You won’t need luck,” his mother promised. “The woman loves you. She’s in the red room.”

With his heart in his throat, he climbed the stairs. Emma was in Claire’s bedroom. They were seated across from each other on the floor, playing cards. He stood in the doorway for a minute, watching them. Emma held her thumb up and winked at him. “Go for it, Dad.”

Immediately he felt better. The door to Whitney’s room was closed. He knocked softly. No answer. He turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. Cautiously, he opened the door. She was lying on the bed with one arm slung across her face. The rise and fall of her chest was slow and even. Closing the door behind him, he sat down on the bed and waited.

A minute passed. Her breathing changed. Then her arm moved away from her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were luminous, the pupils large and dark. His breath caught. She smiled and he relaxed.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“My mother was giving me advice.”

“You, too?”

He nodded. “And you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a fool.”

“She uses that word quite a bit,” Whitney observed.

“You, too?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think about going back to the beginning?”

“Where exactly is the beginning?”

“Let’s take it from where we are right now.”

She thought a minute, her eyes never leaving his face. “Where does that leave us?”

He picked up her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I like what I do. I love what I do. I’ve grown to love it. Do you like what you do?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you think you might like to do it in California?”

“No.”

He frowned. This wasn’t going in the direction he’d hoped. “No?”

“I think I’d like to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I think I’d like to get back into the horse business.”

He couldn’t read her. Was she serious? “In what capacity?”

She sat up. “I’d like to handle the sales and breeding side of your business. I’d like it to be ours, equally.”

The smile that started inside of his chest spread to his face. “I could go for that. What changed your mind?”

“You did. You love your horses. You treat them like children. I like that. Dressage is kind. It’s for people who love horses. I’ve had an epiphany.”

“Care to share it?”

“You bet. The way I see it is, I’ve been running from two things for most of my adult life. One of them is love and the other is horses. For me, they go hand in hand, my two loves. Finding you was finding my way back to my center. I won’t give that up again.”

“Thank God. Ma’s right. I’ve been a fool. I promise it won’t happen again.”

She smiled. “There’s something else, too. I’d like to buy an interest in the business.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“I want to contribute. That way I’ll feel the business is mine, too. I’d like our job descriptions to be specific, so we don’t overlap.”

“You’re the attorney. Draw up a contract.”

“You have a lot of money, Gabe. Would you feel better if your interest was larger? We could set up some kind of agreement, sort of a prenuptial?”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Absolutely not”

“I didn’t think so.” She smiled and sat up. “Shall we tell your mother?”

Her studied her face for a long minute, taking in the pale eyebrows and golden skin, the sculpted cheeks and wide, lash-rimmed eyes. Suddenly his heart felt tight and unsure. “What will we tell her?” he asked softly.

The gray eyes widened. “We’ll tell her we’re getting married and that we’re going into business together. What else?”

He relaxed. It was going to be okay after all. “Just checking.”

This time they found Mercedes on the patio. She was seated in a wicker chair, her eyes staring out over the lavender field, its stalks heavy with blooms.

“Ma,” Gabe began. “We have something to tell you.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Whitney and I have decided to go into business together.”

Mercedes’s face clouded. “What?”

Whitney couldn’t bear the woman’s obvious disappointment. “And we’re getting married.”

“Thank God!” Mercedes pressed both hands against her heart and beamed at Whitney. “I knew you were right for my Gabriel the minute I saw you. I’m so happy, so very, very happy.” She clapped her hands. “We need champagne. Mijito, go down to the cellar and bring up a few bottles. I’ll call your sisters.”

She waited until Gabriel disappeared into the house. Then she turned to Whitney and patted the chair beside her. “Sit beside me. Have you decided on a date?”

Whitney sat down and shook her head. “Not yet. We wanted to tell you right away.” She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “I think you should probably take Gabe’s name out of the Matchmaker.com database.”

Mercedes patted her cheek. “I did that long ago, right after you first came to us.” She smiled happily. “Of course, you’ll decide these things on your own, but if I might make a suggestion?”

“Please do.”

“I was thinking that nothing would be lovelier than a wedding in the lavender field? Were you thinking the same thing?”

Whitney thought of her mother and her father and her great-aunt Lila Rae, and the lovely old house where every female in her mother’s family had been launched for five generations. She opened her mouth to explain that she would probably have to be married in Kentucky.

“Look, mijito,” Mercedes said softly, nodding in the direction of the purple field, thick with blooms. “Look at my lavender field. Look. Close your eyes and smell.”

Whitney looked, turned back to Mercedes, and then, as if pulled by an irresistible force, she looked again, closed her eyes and drew a long, slow breath. Sure enough, an image formed in her mind, an image of herself in a white dress on her father’s arm, Gabe in a dark suit waiting at the end of a beaten path canopied with olive trees, Emma and Claire in purple satin, her mother slim and stunning in lavender lace, sunlight streaming through a sea of purple blooms, white wicker chairs, a bouquet studded with stalks of lavender, Mercedes and her three beautiful daughters tossing waterfalls of lavender seeds. All at once it seemed so clear and right.

Whitney smiled. “You know, Mercedes, you’re right. I can’t think of anything lovelier than having our wedding right here in the lavender field.”

Mercedes sighed happily, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Whatever you think is best, mijita. It shall be exactly as you wish. You know, of course, that I would never interfere. My children will tell you, I have never been an interfering woman.”