“You can bet Diego wasn’t going to help me. He—”
“Alejandro!” It was Diego—and his tone was a command.
“My brother wants me to get back to work. I have to go.”
She frantically searched for something to say that would ensure that they’d talk again. “If I take Spanish lessons, will you help me?”
He was walking backward. “Yes. Most of my clients were women. Bored wives of rich men. Like your friend Tara. They were the problem.”
“Oh, I see. And she’s not my friend.” Her head came up. “I guess I’m like them.” She couldn’t keep the deflation out of her voice.
“You are far away from being like any of them.” The way he said it was so nice that she smiled.
“Alejandro!” Diego bellowed.
“I’m in trouble now. To maˇnana.”
Smiling, she watched him walk away until he was out of sight.
Chapter Eight
Elise had been taking Spanish lessons for a month but she’d not seen Alejandro. Diego and his other men had been there as usual. They mowed and trimmed and pulled weeds with quick efficiency, then left in a couple of old trucks.
She didn’t dare ask Diego where his brother was. She didn’t want him to think she wanted something more than someone to talk to. Which she assured herself that she didn’t.
One Sunday at the joint family dinner, her mother said it was time for Elise to start taking responsibility in the community. She kept her groan to herself. To her mother that meant joining committees and trying to show interest in whatever the other members—all of them over sixty—had to say.
She hadn’t told anyone she was taking Spanish classes three mornings a week. She was sure her mother would complain that it wasn’t French.
Her teacher was a Mexican woman in her fifties, very nice, and she was constantly feeding Elise. “You are too thin!” Elise ate everything she was served but she didn’t put on weight. But then she never sat still long enough to let calories settle.
One day her teacher’s three young grandchildren were there. Elise took one look at them and forgot about the teacher. She spent two hours with the kids and they delighted in telling her that every word she said in Spanish was totally wrong. Elise learned more from them than from any formal lesson.
After that, her teacher made sure the children were always there. Elise made a great babysitter. She and the children cooked Mexican dishes, played Mexican games, and spoke only in Spanish. By the end of the month she wasn’t fluent in the language, but she was on her way.
It was when her teacher said her father was ill and she had to return to Mexico that Elise again began to feel the loneliness of her life. Kent was always gone, girlfriends all seemed to have busy lives, and her mother was pushing her into joining the dreaded committees.
Elise began to have dreams—both real and made-up—of a man on a horse who rescued her from—from everything. One morning she woke up startled. In her dream, it had been Alejandro on the horse.
She finally got up the courage to ask Diego where his brother was. She was told he was on “another job.” His tone was unmistakable. Alejandro was off-limits to her, a married woman.
That Sunday, Elise was standing by the door waiting for Kent to finish a call so they could walk to her parents’ house for the weekly dinner. Or, as she called it, the What’s Wrong with Elise? dinner.
“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Kent said when he joined her.
“My mother wants me to join her committee about cleaning up the parks.”
“Sounds like a worthy cause.”
“It would be if we did some actual cleaning. But I’m to help some other women decide how to deal with the people who have been assigned by the court to do community service. Like any of us know how to do that.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Kent was looking at his watch.
“Need to be somewhere?”
“Don’t start on me! For once, let’s have a nice meal without you starting a fight. Maybe it would be good for you to join a committee or two. Do something instead of sitting around here all day and complaining.”
The unfairness of his accusations took her breath away. “I spend my life doing things for you.”
“And I spend mine doing things for you, so we’re even. Are you ready to go? Let’s get this over with. I have to—”
“Go back to the office,” Elise shot at him.
“You’re hopeless. You have everything any woman could want but you’re still not happy.” He walked out the door, leaving her behind.
Elise leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. He was right. She had everything in life but she was miserable. Her only happiness was when she was at Spanish class. The children, the home life, the laughter. Even the sadness of someone ill. It was life. And it made her happy.
She stood up straight, put her shoulders back, and went to the dinner. It was always a formal affair. Her mother had the Sunday dinners catered and served. She believed in what she called “polite conversation.” That meant that everyone was to agree with her. Disagreement of any sort was not allowed.
Usually, Elise made an effort to participate in whatever the others were talking about, but this time she was silent. She kept asking herself what she really and truly wanted to do. If she could wave a magic wand, what would she change?
She looked around the table at both sets of parents and her husband. Everything, she thought. I’d change it all.
“Elise!” her mother said sharply. “Would you be so kind as to join the adults in conversing?”
Elise looked across the table at her. “I was thinking about herbs and horses.”
Her father gave a chuckle. “Horses don’t eat herbs.”
“I think I should take riding lessons and I need an herb garden. Mrs. Beckett said she could tell that I’d used dried basil. She said she could taste the difference.” Pretentious little woman, Elise thought. She’d seen the jar on the counter and wanted them to think she was above such crass things. Elise was pleased that everyone was looking at her in surprise.
“Beckett Steel?” her father asked.
“Yes, that’s them. I thought I’d have the gardeners dig a hole or two in the back, just past the oak tree, so I could plant a few things.”
“A ‘hole’?” her mother said.
“Just so it’s deep enough for a pot or two. I don’t need much.”
Her mother shook her head. “Really, Elise, sometimes I think you were raised by the staff.”
I saw them more, she thought, but didn’t say.
“Tomorrow I’ll call Leonardo and he can design something for you,” her mother said.
Elise suppressed a grimace. She couldn’t stand the little man. He teased and flirted with the women until they were in giggles, so they hired him. She looked at Kent in wide-eyed innocence. “Isn’t he really expensive? I thought maybe I could sketch something, then have our gardeners do it.” Her father paid the gardeners but a professional designer would send the bill to Kent.
“I really don’t think—” her mother began.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Kent said, then looked at his father-in-law with pleading eyes.
We are children living in a dictatorship, Elise thought. We still have to ask our parents’ permission for everything we do.
“Yes,” her father said to his daughter. “That’s an excellent idea. Use some of that expensive education I paid for.”
“Edgar! Really,” her mother said. “Elise can’t possibly—”
Kent, who never contradicted his mother-in-law, spoke up. “I believe she can. Sweetheart, you go ahead and make your little garden. It’ll give you something to do all day.”
“And riding lessons?” Elise pressed.
“I see no reason for you to—” her mother began.
Kent’s mother, by far the quieter of the two women, said, “I took riding lessons until I went to college. I think it would be a lovely thing for you to do.”
She might be the quiet one, but she knew how to get her way. Elise smiled at her in gratitude. “Thank you,” she said softly.