“Can I use it to take Lisa out next weekend, Cruz?”
“What’s this? You haven’t even let me drive it!” This from his father.
Cruz raised his hands for silence. “Time out! The only reason she drove it was because I lost a bet. Believe me, I died a thousand deaths watching her abuse it.”
Madeline continued to eat sedately. “He’s a sore loser, too,” she informed the family, and they laughed. And there was no more discomfort after that. It seemed odd to her later when she thought about it. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for the Martinezes. Their noisy discussions, laughter and teasing were full of mutual love and concern for each other. She wanted to sit back and observe it, but she quickly learned that wasn’t allowed in this house. Everyone at the table was pulled into conversations, and her opinion was sought more than once when one of Cruz’s siblings was arguing with him.
Comparisons between this family and her own were ludicrous. There were simply no similarities to be found. Kathleen Martinez exhibited the same twinkle in her eye and the same penchant for teasing that could be seen in Cruz. Tomas was unabashedly proud of his family. Grandchildren crawled all over their aunts, uncles and grandparents, to the obvious enjoyment of the adults. Madeline wasn’t used to being asked frank questions about herself by people she’d just met. But it was impossible to remain unaffected by the lighthearted atmosphere. She found herself just as curious about them.
Cruz watched Madeline relate to his family with a faint smile. This had turned out better than he’d expected. His family had accepted her as readily as they would any guest brought home. He’d had no qualms about that. It was her reaction to them that he’d wondered about, but he needn’t have worried. She seemed perfectly at ease, and, although he’d had to step in once or twice to head off a particularly nosy question from one of his siblings, Madeline was, overall, holding her own. Watching her here, talking to his family, proved fascinating. That cool reserve that was so much a part of her was still present. But he thought that right now it was more relaxed than usual. He observed as Maureen involved Madeline in a discussion on the horrors of naturally curly hair, and Shannon asked her opinion about the latest political news.
Madeline rose at the end of the meal and prepared to help clear the table. The women stopped her.
“Forget it, Madeline. On Sundays in this house, dishes are the men’s job.”
She raised her eyebrows as she watched Cruz and his brothers start gathering plates with a tremendous clatter. “Well, that’s certainly an enlightened idea.”
Kathleen said, “It’s a new twist on the old-fashioned custom of the men retiring to the parlor after a meal for a smoke. In this house, we allow them to do their male bonding over a sinkful of dirty pans.”
“While the women smoke cigars in the parlor,” Sean said.
“I dry,” Cruz said.
“No way. It’s your turn to wash, buddy.”
“You’re crazy. I washed last week.”
The women left the men to their bickering and went to the living room. Madeline had no more than sat down when she was approached by Cruz’s oldest niece-Robin, she thought her name was. The girl eyed her soberly.
Madeline smiled tentatively. She’d had little contact with children, except, on rare occasions, during a case.
Robin spoke. “Do you want to see my Barbie dolls? I brought them with me today.”
Disarmed, Madeline nodded. “I’d love to, Robin.” The girl took her by the hand, called for her aunt Maureen to follow them, and led the two upstairs.
It was well over an hour later when Madeline returned to the living room. Cruz was sprawled on the floor, with two little ones using him for a sofa. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he motioned her over. “Where have you been?”
She sank gracefully next to him, tucking her legs beneath her. “Admiring Robin’s Barbie collection. My, those dolls sure live in the fast lane.”
His eyes left hers and looked at Robin, who was climbing up on her father’s lap. “Did you have fun playing Barbies, honey?”
The little girl bobbed her head vehemently. “Uh-huh! I learned lots of neat stuff. Maureen taught me how to braid Barbie’s hair, and Madeline showed me how to make Barbie’s skirts longer.” She added solemnly, “’Cause they’re really too short to get respect.”
Stunned silence in the room was followed by gales of laughter. Cruz noted the quick flush that rose to Madeline’s cheeks. He teased, “Well, if anyone can teach you how to get respect, it’s this lady.” In an undertone he asked, “Bet you didn’t find any primly tailored jackets and pants in the wardrobe, did you?”
“Not a one,” she answered wryly. “Most of the outfits were suitable for roller-blading and beauty pageants. Reality doesn’t play a very big part in Barbie’s life. And if that was a slam about my wardrobe,” she added, “watch it. Or I just may have to comment on your seemingly insatiable desire for blue jeans and cowboy boots.”
They took their leave shortly after, and Madeline said goodbye to each member of the family. She thanked Mr. and Mrs. Martinez for their hospitality.
Kathleen waved away her thanks. “We’re glad you came. Next time, don’t wait for Cruz to kidnap you. You’re welcome anytime.”
Tomas added, “You’ll have to come back and tell me how you got Cruz to let you drive his car. Maybe it will work for me.”
“Sorry,” Cruz denied swiftly. “I only fall for that particular bet once.”
“You won’t forget what we talked about, will you, Cruz?” Miguel asked.
“I’ll run home and get my checkbook,” Cruz promised. “I’ll drop the check off here and you can swing by tomorrow before classes and pick it up.”
“Thanks,” Miguel said with relief in his voice. “You’re the best.”
It took several more minutes to get away, as the family gathered around to hug Cruz.
Getting into the car and buckling up, Madeline noted, “I liked your family. They all seemed very nice.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “And everyone seemed to have your number.”
“That’s the problem with families. No respect. Do you mind if we stop at my place before I take you home? I need to get something.”
“Your checkbook?” Madeline asked. At his look she explained, “I heard what you said to Miguel. He seemed pretty relieved. So, tell me. Did you lose a bet to him, too?”
He chuckled. “No, I didn’t lose a bet to him. I think my experience with you yesterday cured me of betting for good. He got in a bind at college again. Some additional fees cropped up and he needs some extra money, that’s all. I’m just helping him out.”
“Helping him out?” she pressed. “Or putting him through school?” She knew she’d guessed correctly by his silence. “You’re putting Maureen through college, too, aren’t you?”
He actually squirmed. “Not exactly. They’ve both gotten some grants. I didn’t want them to have to graduate with huge loans hanging over their heads, that’s all. I give them enough to cover what the grants don’t.”
Maureen had intimated as much to her when they were upstairs. And Madeline could guess that Cruz was downplaying his role in their college careers. Regardless of his protests, she guessed that Cruz was the sole reason his two youngest siblings could go to college. Here was another huge expense that Cruz could inexplicably afford. Her throat tight, she inquired, “And your parents’ house? Were they able to buy that because of you, too?”
He gave a crooked smile. “You don’t realize how machismo works in my family. It’s perfectly acceptable for an older brother to help out a younger sibling. But I couldn’t offer that kind of help to my father. That would be a slap at his male pride. I wouldn’t offend him that way. It’s enough that I’m able to ease his financial burden of educating the two youngest.” And it had been difficult to get his father to accept that kind of help, he remembered wryly. It had taken all of Cruz’s considerable diplomacy to word it in such a way as not to insult the man from whom he’d inherited his own fierce pride.
Madeline was silent. Actually, what she’d learned today only underlined what she’d already surmised about him. The fancy car, the expensive apartment and the financial help he was giving his siblings all pointed to one thing. Cruz Martinez had an outside source of income. She’d already drawn that conclusion, so why should this latest bit of evidence bother her?
And she couldn’t help admitting that it
