Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)(84)

When the doorbell rang, she pressed her hand over her heart and took a deep breath before walking to the front door and opening it. As always Hector was punctual.

“Good evening, Lillie,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”

“No. I mean, yes, I had a lovely afternoon.” Rather than explain her initial response, she gathered up her sweater, made of silver-blue cashmere, and her purse.

She’d agonized over whether to ask him in, self-conscious about her wealth and her luxurious house. But it wasn’t an issue, since he immediately asked if she was ready to leave.

After she’d locked her door and set the alarm, he led her to his car, parked in her driveway. His manners were impeccable as he escorted her and made sure she was comfortably seated. His courtesies came from a soul-deep regard for others, a true considerateness; she knew that with absolute certainty. This was nothing as superficial as charm. It was a mark of respect.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he was saying once he’d joined her in the vehicle.

Lillie was far too nervous to be hungry. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she told him.

He glanced over at her, his dark eyes intense. “I have, too.”

Her stomach pitched. From the first moment they’d met, he’d had an unprecedented effect on her. She felt things with him that she hadn’t felt before. David had never shared much with her; he’d been what her women’s magazines now referred to as “emotionally inaccessible.” His affairs were part of that, of course. It wasn’t until after his death that she’d recognized how withdrawn she’d become through the years. There had been a price to pay for ignoring his betrayals, for turning a blind eye to his shortcomings as a husband and lover. The price had been much higher than she’d realized. Only now was she beginning to understand how repressed her feelings had become. She’d learned to subdue her own emotions as well as her expectations.

Hector was talking about dinner, and she shook off her pensiveness.

“You made everything yourself?” she asked.

“My daughter offered advice.”

Hector and his daughter seemed to be especially close. Like everything else about this man, she found that endearing—and she couldn’t help comparing it to David’s relationship with Barbie. At first he’d been disappointed not to have a son, but Barbie had quickly wrapped him around her little finger. He’d accepted Lillie’s inability to have other children and lavished his attention on his daughter. David could be generous and loving; he’d certainly shown Barbie that side of himself. But Lillie considered him both uncommitted and morally weak in his emotional life. Yet he’d been a scrupulously honest businessman…. She supposed that was a result of his skill at “compartmentalizing,” which men were said to be good at, again according to her magazines.

“I need to mention something about my home,” Hector said, looking straight ahead as he concentrated on traffic. “I don’t live in a fancy neighborhood.”

“I understand that.”

“Your home is beautiful, Lillie.”

“Hector, are you telling me you’re ashamed of your home?” she asked bluntly.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then please don’t apologize for it.”

“You apologized for yours, remember?”

She had. She’d feared that once Hector saw her opulent home, the differences between their financial situations would discourage him. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t easily intimidated. At least, she didn’t think so until he’d brought up the subject of his own neighborhood.

“People might talk about us, Lillie,” Hector added. “However, Rita’s aware that I’m seeing you and has been most supportive.”

“My daughter has been, too.” Lillie didn’t mention their initial conflict and the painful few days that had followed their disagreement.

“I haven’t told my sons about you yet.”

“Oh?”

“They might not be as understanding as Rita.”

Lillie glanced at him. “Will their opinion make a difference?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. “I would like to tell you it wouldn’t. The truth is, I don’t know. My family is important and I trust that my children love me enough to want to see me happy. And you, Lillie, make me happy.”

“Oh, Hector.” His sincerity touched her heart. “You make me happy, too,” she whispered in return.

Hector reached for her hand.

As soon as they turned onto Walnut Street, Lillie knew instantly which home was his. The yard was beautifully maintained, the flower beds splashed with brilliant color. When he pulled into the driveway of the house she’d guessed was his, it was all Lillie could do not to congratulate herself.

Hector helped her out of the car and led her to the front door of the white-painted two-story house. The first thing she saw inside was a multitude of family pictures. They covered the walls and the top of the piano. The wall next to the stairs was another gallery of photographs. Lillie’s gaze went to a portrait of Hector and his deceased wife. Angelina, maybe fifty in the picture, had been a slender, elegant woman.

“These are my children,” he said, pointing to college graduation photos of his daughter and his two sons. “This is Manuel,” he said, tapping the picture of his oldest son.