Rawson added something to the conversation, and Greta laughed and made a comment, too. Soon, most everyone at the table, including Emmy’s bilingual papa, chatted easily in the musical language that Emmy, Aunt Bertha, and Mama didn’t understand.
However, Emmy did understand that the soft-spoken stranger seemed overtly interested in her. Each time she looked up, the brooding eyes met hers boldly, until Emmy began to feel uncomfortable. As for Diego, he watched the mysterious lady gather dirty dishes, a frown lining his forehead. Usually skilled at sorting the dynamics of a situation, the scowl on Diego’s face and the server’s careful appraisal threw Emmy quite off track.
Helping herself to one more glance at Emmy, she picked up an empty tray and turned to go.
Mrs. Rawson held up her hand. “Wait, Melatha. I’d like to introduce you.” Standing, she walked around the table and slid her arm around the woman’s waist. “Friends, this is Diego’s little mother. She’s not usually working in our kitchen but has graciously offered to lend a hand today for our special occasion. Melatha’s the best cook in South Texas.” She tightened her grip. “She’s also a dear friend. The Rawsons consider her and Diego a part of our family.”
Diego’s mother. This time Emmy flashed an appraising glance.
Silent until now, Diego bowed slightly. “I’m honored by your words, Mrs. Rawson. I’m certain my mother feels the same.”
The glowing smile on his handsome face flipped Emmy’s stomach.
“But if you’ll pardon one bold observation,” he continued, “isn’t it customary for the staff to serve the table while the members of a family dine together?”
“Isi!” his mother hissed.
The light of understanding dawned in Mrs. Rawson’s eyes. Flustered, but only briefly, she faced her friend. “He’s right, of course! Melatha, put down those things and join us. You’ve made your contribution for the day.”
“I really couldn’t, Miss Kate. Besides, I’m not hungry.” She gave a tight smile. “All that tasting in the kitchen...”
Mrs. Rawson took the stack of dishes from her hands. “That’s all right. We’re nearly done. I know you’re fond of our English tea. Sit and share a cup with us. Allow my guests to benefit from your company.”
Diego’s mother opened her mouth to protest again, but a short, middle-aged man in dust-covered pants appeared in the archway behind her son. “Excuse me, Señor Rawson.” He wadded his hat in his hands. “I need to see Diego, if you please.”
Mr. Rawson’s moustache twitched. “What now, Pete? Can’t you men run things for five minutes without him? The man’s having his dinner.”
The intruder cut pleading eyes to Diego. “Forgive me. It’s important.”
Irritation brought out Mr. Rawson’s British accent. “What’s so flaming important that it can’t wait?”
Looking as if he’d sooner lose his tongue, the man swallowed hard then mumbled his answer. “Faron, he’s loose again, señor. He’s still on the ranch, but none of the men will tangle with him. They call for Diego.”
Diego groaned and rolled his eyes. “Not again. That’s twice in one day.”
Mr. Rawson tossed his napkin on his plate. “Blast that son of perdition!”
Mrs. Rawson gasped. “John! Watch your language.”
“Sorry, Kate, but isn’t there any fence that will hold that horse?”
Diego patted his boss’s shoulder. “Relax, sir. Enjoy your dessert. I’ll take care of it.”
Worry creased his mother’s brow. “Will you return tonight, Isi?”
He flashed a teasing smile. “I suppose that depends on Faron.”
“Be careful, son.”
He gazed at her with affection. “Don’t fret, Mother. I’ll come home in one piece.” He excused himself and pushed back his chair. “Before I go, sir, Señor Boteo suggested we post a night watch for a few days.” His eyes twinkled. “It seems they’ve had a run-in with el chupa sangre. Francisco chased him off a goat
However, Emmy did understand that the soft-spoken stranger seemed overtly interested in her. Each time she looked up, the brooding eyes met hers boldly, until Emmy began to feel uncomfortable. As for Diego, he watched the mysterious lady gather dirty dishes, a frown lining his forehead. Usually skilled at sorting the dynamics of a situation, the scowl on Diego’s face and the server’s careful appraisal threw Emmy quite off track.
Helping herself to one more glance at Emmy, she picked up an empty tray and turned to go.
Mrs. Rawson held up her hand. “Wait, Melatha. I’d like to introduce you.” Standing, she walked around the table and slid her arm around the woman’s waist. “Friends, this is Diego’s little mother. She’s not usually working in our kitchen but has graciously offered to lend a hand today for our special occasion. Melatha’s the best cook in South Texas.” She tightened her grip. “She’s also a dear friend. The Rawsons consider her and Diego a part of our family.”
Diego’s mother. This time Emmy flashed an appraising glance.
Silent until now, Diego bowed slightly. “I’m honored by your words, Mrs. Rawson. I’m certain my mother feels the same.”
The glowing smile on his handsome face flipped Emmy’s stomach.
“But if you’ll pardon one bold observation,” he continued, “isn’t it customary for the staff to serve the table while the members of a family dine together?”
“Isi!” his mother hissed.
The light of understanding dawned in Mrs. Rawson’s eyes. Flustered, but only briefly, she faced her friend. “He’s right, of course! Melatha, put down those things and join us. You’ve made your contribution for the day.”
“I really couldn’t, Miss Kate. Besides, I’m not hungry.” She gave a tight smile. “All that tasting in the kitchen...”
Mrs. Rawson took the stack of dishes from her hands. “That’s all right. We’re nearly done. I know you’re fond of our English tea. Sit and share a cup with us. Allow my guests to benefit from your company.”
Diego’s mother opened her mouth to protest again, but a short, middle-aged man in dust-covered pants appeared in the archway behind her son. “Excuse me, Señor Rawson.” He wadded his hat in his hands. “I need to see Diego, if you please.”
Mr. Rawson’s moustache twitched. “What now, Pete? Can’t you men run things for five minutes without him? The man’s having his dinner.”
The intruder cut pleading eyes to Diego. “Forgive me. It’s important.”
Irritation brought out Mr. Rawson’s British accent. “What’s so flaming important that it can’t wait?”
Looking as if he’d sooner lose his tongue, the man swallowed hard then mumbled his answer. “Faron, he’s loose again, señor. He’s still on the ranch, but none of the men will tangle with him. They call for Diego.”
Diego groaned and rolled his eyes. “Not again. That’s twice in one day.”
Mr. Rawson tossed his napkin on his plate. “Blast that son of perdition!”
Mrs. Rawson gasped. “John! Watch your language.”
“Sorry, Kate, but isn’t there any fence that will hold that horse?”
Diego patted his boss’s shoulder. “Relax, sir. Enjoy your dessert. I’ll take care of it.”
Worry creased his mother’s brow. “Will you return tonight, Isi?”
He flashed a teasing smile. “I suppose that depends on Faron.”
“Be careful, son.”
He gazed at her with affection. “Don’t fret, Mother. I’ll come home in one piece.” He excused himself and pushed back his chair. “Before I go, sir, Señor Boteo suggested we post a night watch for a few days.” His eyes twinkled. “It seems they’ve had a run-in with el chupa sangre. Francisco chased him off a goat
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