Family Money(3)

“Come on, Mom!” shouted Olivia. “Five more minutes!”

“Please, Mom, please!” echoed Nicole.

Both girls were splashing around in the shallow end of the pool next to me in their cute pink-and-purple matching swimsuits.

“Yeah, Mom, don’t be such a party pooper.” This came from Joe, who was also in the pool with us. We’d been taking turns throwing the girls as high as we could and watching them shriek with absolute joy.

“Don’t encourage them, Dad,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied with a wide smile.

We’d had the hotel pool to ourselves. It wasn’t much. This wasn’t a luxury resort. But we were making the most of it.

“We have time, babe,” I said to Taylor, wading over closer to her.

“But we have to pick up paint supplies, remember?”

“That’s true.”

I heard more squeals from behind me, turned. Joe had launched Nicole into the air again, and she’d done a little cannonball into the water. She’d been working on perfecting her cannonballs in our pool back in Austin. She was so proud of them, even though her tiny splash barely rippled more than a couple of feet.

She popped up out of the water, the biggest smile on her face. “How was that, Papa? Was that even bigger than last time?”

Joe’s eyes lit up. “It was huge!”

“My turn! My turn!” yelled Olivia, swimming over to Joe.

My mother-in-law walked out to the pool area toward us. Carol was tan and trim with short brown hair. She played tennis in a senior league three times a week. She and Joe had been married thirty-two years. They’d wanted more kids, but Joe told me complications during Taylor’s birth had prevented that. So our family of four was all they had. Our lives were completely wrapped up in theirs, too. My in-laws lived only two blocks over from us. While most sons-in-law might be wary of living so close to their in-laws, I welcomed it. Joe was a mentor to me in every way. Carol was of great help to Taylor with the kids. She was readily available without being overly intrusive. And my girls adored Papa and Nanny, as they liked to be called.

Carol stood next to Taylor, crossed her arms. “What’s going on out here?”

“Dad’s being a troublemaker again,” Taylor said.

“Of course he is. Joe, we really need to get moving, honey.”

“All right, all right,” Joe relented. “Sorry, girls, playtime is over.”

Joe climbed the pool steps, found his towel on a patio chair, and began drying off. Carol walked over to the steps and helped the girls out while I searched the bottom of the pool for their swim toys. I collected them all, moved back to the side of the pool, and held them up for Taylor. She reached down and grabbed them with both hands. When she did, I quickly slipped my right hand around and clutched her wrist. A small grin touched my lips. Taylor’s green eyes flashed on mine.

“Don’t . . . you . . . dare,” she warned me, trying to pull back.

But I didn’t let go. My grin began to spread.

“Alex!” she said.

This caught the attention of our girls. “Do it, Daddy! Do it!”

I saw a hint of a smile on Taylor’s face. I knew this was the permission I needed. So I yanked her all the way forward on top of me into the pool. Coming up out of the water, Taylor tried to frown but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. The girls were exploding with laughter on the patio. There was nothing better than hearing unbridled glee coming out of both of our angels.

The next thing I knew, Joe had scooped up Carol in both arms and was running toward the pool with my screeching mother-in-law. They both splashed into the water right next to us. Then Olivia and Nicole jumped back into the pool right behind them, and soon we were all laughing so hard, our stomachs hurt.

Taylor gave me a kiss. “Babe, I’m so glad you talked me into coming on this trip. It really has been a wonderful week for all of us.”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

The last thing I’d said to her this morning in the pool now felt like a dagger jabbing hard into my ribs. Thankfully, I spotted a blue Ford truck with Policía—Matamoros on the side finally pull up to the marketplace. A uniformed officer probably in his forties with a crew cut and a thick mustache got out. I hurried over to him.

“Please tell me you speak English,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. And you are?”

“Alex Mahan.”

“Officer Sanchez. But call me Raul. Tell me what happened, Alex.”

“My father-in-law and I were shopping here in the village when some men grabbed him. We’ve been helping out over at a nearby orphanage this week—Casa de Esperanza.”

“I know it well. The director, Esther, is a friend.”

“Well, I was standing over there when I looked back and spotted three guys jump out of a van, pull Joe into the vehicle, and speed off. I ran after the minivan but couldn’t stop them.” I pointed. “They took off that way.”

Raul squinted down the road. “You are from the States?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“I have a cousin who lives in Austin. Beautiful city. My kids love to swim in Lake Travis. What can you tell me about the vehicle?”

“Gray minivan. Probably ten years old. Honda Odyssey, I think.”