But Marcus appeared to be an exception to the men in her family, Maria thought wryly. Not only had her father found family life too much for him, but last year her brother-in-law had run off with his secretary, leaving her older sister, Linda, to raise David with little help or interest from him. The women had drawn their protective circle tight around the bitter Linda and bewildered little boy, and the restaurant had managed to keep food on their table—barely. Then when Veronica’s husband’s phone calls and letters had abruptly stopped coming from Tucson, well…Maria hadn’t been too surprised.
Benjamin Calder was just a man, Maria told herself sternly, starting out to the garden to finish the weeding. And she had best remember it.
The children were in high spirits at the supper table, fresh from their swim, and Maria tried to hush them as she began to pass the food. She cast a worried glance at Ben, but he didn’t seem to mind the noise. In fact, the only time a frown came to his face was when he looked Connor’s way.
Connor had disappeared into his room after his arrival, not to be seen again until he was called for supper. Now he sat at the table between his father and Veronica, the headphones of a portable CD player plugging his ears, nodding his head to a beat inaudible to the rest of them.
“Connor, could you take those off, please?” The polite tone was obviously a struggle for Ben. Connor’s head continued to bob. He tapped his fork against his plate, keeping time to his own private drummer as he waited for a dish of garlic bread to make its way to him.
“Connor!”
Connor helped himself to four pieces of bread.
Striking like a snake, Ben snatched the headphones from his son’s head. “I asked you to take these off. I don’t want to see them at the dinner table again.”
“Hey!” Connor pulled the thin piece of metal out of his father’s grip, cradling it protectively in his lap. “Mom always let’s me.”
“I’m sure she does” was Ben’s sardonic reply.
Connor shot his father a sullen look before reaching for the heavy platter of spaghetti Trisha struggled to pass to him, ladling a mound onto his plate without a word.
“A thank-you to Trisha would be appropriate, don’t you think?”
Ben’s request was an order and Connor gave a loud, persecuted sigh. “Dad, lighten up, will ya? You’re such a hard ass.”
“Watch your mouth. You know damned well I don’t allow you to use that kind of language.”
“Yeah, right. So you’re going to send me to bed without any supper?” The toss of bangs made the question a clear challenge.
Ben’s voice was icy. “That can be arranged.”
Maria watched father and son stare at each other, testing, identical gray eyes probing just how far each was willing to go this time. She glanced uneasily at the children, dismayed to find them watching the exchange with wide-eyed interest.
Connor was the first to look away. He straightened from his slouch and turned to the little girl. “Thank you very much.” Then he addressed Maria. “Mrs. Soldata, this spaghetti smells absolutely delicious. It’s one of my favorite meals. And I’m looking forward to some authentic Mexican food while I’m here. I’m especially fond of chicken enchiladas. Dad, would you care for some spaghetti?” He held the platter toward his father, smiling agreeably.
Maria couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud. What a rogue! Connor’s smile became impish and, as he’d obviously planned, his father’s face relaxed and there even appeared a ghost of a rueful smile on it. From then on, Connor was absolutely charming, and Maria became more and more amused as she watched the skillful con artist wind everyone around his finger. Even Veronica, jaded as she’d become lately, was soon smiling and blushing at the boy’s outrageous flattery. And when he complimented their mother on her dress, the old woman had to struggle to keep her disapproving frown.
“I mean it, Mrs. Romero, that shade of brown is very attractive on you. A mature woman such as yourself should always wear classic colors.”
Ben listened to the baloney his son was dishing out and the way the women smiled indulgently at him and could only shake his head. Connor had always handled his mother in exactly the same way. Lori let him get away with murder and his stepfather blatantly bribed him to keep him out of his hair. The end result was a spoiled, willful, soon-to-be-man with a strong aversion to hard work. And Ben was at a loss as to how to change any of it.
“Come on, Veronica,” Connor was saying. “Let’s drive into Wyberg and see what they do for excitement out here in the boonies.”
“No thanks, Connor. Not tonight.”
“Come on,” he wheedled. “There’s no cable out here, you know. I’m going to go nuts without MTV.”
“I can’t. Ashley will wake up from her nap soon and I’ll have to bath her and feed her again.”
“Aw, let Maria take care of her own kids. You’ve done your baby-sitting thing for the day.”
The women glanced swiftly at each other. Ben was surprised when none of them volunteered to correct Connor’s mistaken assumption that the baby was Maria’s.
Veronica just shook her head.
The petulant look returned to Connor’s face in a flash. “Fine!” he snapped. He scraped his chair from the table. “But I’m not going to sit here and rot.”
With a flip of bangs and an insolent, “Later,” he slammed out the door. The roar of an engine and spurting gravel said his more eloquent goodbyes.
The room was uncomfortably silent, the adults making a studied effort to avoid each other’s eyes. A cry from the infant seat in the corner was a welcome diversion.
“Right on schedule,” Veronica said with false brightness. She picked up the crying baby, murmuring soft, comforting sounds.
“Kids, why don’t you clear the table?” Maria said in the same too-cheerful manner. “Trisha, make sure you rinse those plates before you put them in the dishwasher, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” The children hopped from their chairs and began stacking plates and carrying them to the kitchen. Soon rattling dishes, running water and childish arguing could be heard coming from the next room.
Just an obedient “Yes, Mama,” and three children went to work? Ben thought in amazement. No whining. No back talk. He couldn’t remember the last time Connor had responded to the simplest request without some smart comment.
He put his elbows on the table and cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry about Connor. He’s been having a rough time of it since his mother and I divorced.”
The women nodded sympathetically. “It can be hard on kids. David’s still reeling from my sister’s divorce,” Maria told him. “I hope he manages to adjust pretty soon. How long ago was your divorce?”
“Six years.”
When Maria looked surprised, Ben realized what he’d said. “I guess six years is a long time to adjust. Maybe I can’t blame all of Connor’s behavior on the divorce. I mean, your girls seemed to be doing okay.”
“I’m a widow, though. Maybe that makes a difference.”
Ben was surprised; he’d assumed she was divorced. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a family tragedy,” Mrs. Romero’s voice unexpectedly crackled out. “Marcus was the only man in the whole bunch worth a centavo.”
“He was a good