She’d agonized over whether to ask him in, self-conscious about her wealth and her luxurious house. But it wasn’t an issue, since he immediately asked if she was ready to leave.
After she’d locked her door and set the alarm, he led her to his car, parked in her driveway. His manners were impeccable as he escorted her and made sure she was comfortably seated. His courtesies came from a soul-deep regard for others, a true considerateness; she knew that with absolute certainty. This was nothing as superficial as charm. It was a mark of respect.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he was saying once he’d joined her in the vehicle.
Lillie was far too nervous to be hungry. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she told him.
He glanced over at her, his dark eyes intense. “I have, too.”
Her stomach pitched. From the first moment they’d met, he’d had an unprecedented effect on her. She felt things with him that she hadn’t felt before. David had never shared much with her; he’d been what her women’s magazines now referred to as “emotionally inaccessible.” His affairs were part of that, of course. It wasn’t until after his death that she’d recognized how withdrawn she’d become through the years. There had been a price to pay for ignoring his betrayals, for turning a blind eye to his shortcomings as a husband and lover. The price had been much higher than she’d realized. Only now was she beginning to understand how repressed her feelings had become. She’d learned to subdue her own emotions as well as her expectations.
Hector was talking about dinner, and she shook off her pensiveness.
“You made everything yourself?” she asked.
“My daughter offered advice.”
Hector and his daughter seemed to be especially close. Like everything else about this man, she found that endearing—and she couldn’t help comparing it to David’s relationship with Barbie. At first he’d been disappointed not to have a son, but Barbie had quickly wrapped him around her little finger. He’d accepted Lillie’s inability to have other children and lavished his attention on his daughter. David could be generous and loving; he’d certainly shown Barbie that side of himself. But Lillie considered him both uncommitted and morally weak in his emotional life. Yet he’d been a scrupulously honest businessman…. She supposed that was a result of his skill at “compartmentalizing,” which men were said to be good at, again according to her magazines.
“I need to mention something about my home,” Hector said, looking straight ahead as he concentrated on traffic. “I don’t live in a fancy neighborhood.”
“I understand that.”
“Your home is beautiful, Lillie.”
“Hector, are you telling me you’re ashamed of your home?” she asked bluntly.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then please don’t apologize for it.”
“You apologized for yours, remember?”
She had. She’d feared that once Hector saw her opulent home, the differences between their financial situations would discourage him. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t easily intimidated. At least, she didn’t think so until he’d brought up the subject of his own neighborhood.
“People might talk about us, Lillie,” Hector added. “However, Rita’s aware that I’m seeing you and has been most supportive.”
“My daughter has been, too.” Lillie didn’t mention their initial conflict and the painful few days that had followed their disagreement.
“I haven’t told my sons about you yet.”
“Oh?”
“They might not be as understanding as Rita.”
Lillie glanced at him. “Will their opinion make a difference?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. “I would like to tell you it wouldn’t. The truth is, I don’t know. My family is important and I trust that my children love me enough to want to see me happy. And you, Lillie, make me happy.”
“Oh, Hector.” His sincerity touched her heart. “You make me happy, too,” she whispered in return.
Hector reached for her hand.
As soon as they turned onto Walnut Street, Lillie knew instantly which home was his. The yard was beautifully maintained, the flower beds splashed with brilliant color. When he pulled into the driveway of the house she’d guessed was his, it was all Lillie could do not to congratulate herself.
Hector helped her out of the car and led her to the front door of the white-painted two-story house. The first thing she saw inside was a multitude of family pictures. They covered the walls and the top of the piano. The wall next to the stairs was another gallery of photographs. Lillie’s gaze went to a portrait of Hector and his deceased wife. Angelina, maybe fifty in the picture, had been a slender, elegant woman.
“These are my children,” he said, pointing to college graduation photos of his daughter and his two sons. “This is Manuel,” he said, tapping the picture of his oldest son.
“The attorney,” Lillie murmured. The young man in the cap and gown, proudly displaying his diploma, had serious eyes and a fierce look. Lillie could picture him in a courtroom vanquishing his opponent.
“Luis,” he continued, tapping one finger on the next photograph.
“The doctor.” Unlike his brother, Lillie observed, Luis had gentle eyes that reminded her of Hector’s. “He looks the most like you.”
“Yes,” Hector said. “Angelina and I always knew he’d work in the health field. From the time he was a little boy, he wanted to help anyone in pain.”
Yes, this son was most like his father.
“And Rita,” Hector said, going down the line of photographs.
His daughter was a true beauty who resembled her mother. There was an engaging warmth in her smile.
“She’s lovely,” Lillie whispered. “I’m sure she’s a popular teacher.”
The smells coming from the kitchen were enticing, and suddenly Lillie felt ravenous. Once she’d torn her gaze from the photographs, she noticed that Hector had set the dining table with his best dishes; a small floral centerpiece sat in the middle.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He escorted her into the dining room.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. You’re my guest.”
“Hector, I want to help.”
He hesitated but finally agreed. “If you insist. You can cut the bread.”
“You never did tell me what you’re serving.”
“It’s a classic Mexican dish,” Hector teased as he opened a drawer and pulled out a bread knife. “It’s spaghetti. My daughter gave me the recipe. She even went to the store with me and chose the ingredients.”
“You didn’t need to go to all that trouble,” Lillie said, although she was flattered that he had. “We could eat potato chips and it would taste like ambrosia to me because I’m here with you.”
Hector grinned, then took a step closer. “I have been lonely for a long time,” he said in a low voice.
Lillie had spent most of her marriage being lonely. “I have, too,” she told him.
For just a moment it seemed that he was about to kiss her. Their first kiss had been the evening they’d attended the Frida Kahlo lecture at the Seattle Art Museum. At the end of the evening, he’d dropped her at home; he’d declined coffee but walked her to the door. It’d been an awkward moment and by unspoken agreement they’d each leaned forward and kissed. Lillie was eager to repeat the experience. Their kiss had been polite, almost chaste, but very satisfying….
“I’m just reheating the sauce,” he said, wielding a large wooden spoon.
“Hector?” Lillie drew in a deep breath before plunging ahead.
The way she said his name seemed to alert him to the fact that she had something important to say.
“Yes?”
“I want you to know…”
“Yes, Lillie?”
“When it feels right to you, I hope you’ll kiss me again.” She didn’t want him wondering—or worrying—about what her response might be.
“Thank you.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “I shall keep that in mind.”
She picked up the bread knife and carefully sliced the loaf of French bread, arranging the pieces neatly on a serving plate.
After stirring the sauce, Hector boiled the spaghetti noodles; when they were ready, he placed them inside a beautiful hand-painted ceramic dish. Next he poured the meat-and-tomato sauce over the noodles. The salad, waiting in the refrigerator, was already mixed. Lillie put it on the table, along with the bread.
Hector opened a bottle of red wine that he told her Rita had recommended. Then he seated her at the table and sat across from her.
They toasted each other, touching glasses, and began the meal. She discovered that Hector preferred his food spicier than she did but he’d made the sauce fairly mild, adding chili peppers to his own. Another example of his thoughtfulness.
In the beginning their conversation was tentative. But it wasn’t long before the hesitation dissolved and they found any number of topics to discuss. They agreed on political issues and surprisingly had enjoyed some of the same films and novels. Hector bragged about his grandchildren and she told stories about her grandsons. The conversation flowed naturally from one subject to the next as they lingered over their wine. Afterward, despite Hector’s protests, Lillie helped with the dishes. Her shoes hurt her feet, so she took them off and tucked a dishtowel into her waistband as she moved effortlessly around his kitchen.
Hector put on some easy-listening music from the ’70s, and soon they were dancing about the room, twirling and laughing. He kissed her once, twice, and it was as natural as breathing. His touch left her with the most inexplicable urge to weep. Rather than allow him to see the effect his kisses had on her, she buried her face in his shoulder.
Hector released her and they both went back to cleaning the kitchen, dancing around each other as they did.
He was about to kiss her again when the back door opened and Manuel walked inside. Lillie recognized him from his photograph. “Dad, I need to borrow your—” He stopped abruptly. “Dad!” he barked, shouting to be heard above the music.
Instinctively Lillie stepped closer to Hector. He leaned over to turn off the CD player on the counter, and the resulting silence was almost shocking.
Hector straightened, putting his arm around Lillie’s waist. “Son, this is my friend, Lillie Higgins. Lillie, this is Manuel.”
Manuel nodded politely in her direction but addressed his father. “I didn’t realize you had a woman friend.”
“Your father’s told me quite a bit about you,” Lillie said, feeling guilty although she wasn’t sure why.
“Funny, he hasn’t said a word about you.” Manuel gave her a cold look.
Hector placed one hand on her shoulder and spoke gently. “If you’ll excuse me, I will talk to my son privately.” He ushered Manuel out of the room.
She nodded and finished wiping the kitchen counter. She rinsed and wrung out the cloth, then draped it over the faucet and removed her makeshift apron. Slipping on her shoes, she stood in the kitchen and waited for Hector.
