Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)(85)

“The attorney,” Lillie murmured. The young man in the cap and gown, proudly displaying his diploma, had serious eyes and a fierce look. Lillie could picture him in a courtroom vanquishing his opponent.

“Luis,” he continued, tapping one finger on the next photograph.

“The doctor.” Unlike his brother, Lillie observed, Luis had gentle eyes that reminded her of Hector’s. “He looks the most like you.”

“Yes,” Hector said. “Angelina and I always knew he’d work in the health field. From the time he was a little boy, he wanted to help anyone in pain.”

Yes, this son was most like his father.

“And Rita,” Hector said, going down the line of photographs.

His daughter was a true beauty who resembled her mother. There was an engaging warmth in her smile.

“She’s lovely,” Lillie whispered. “I’m sure she’s a popular teacher.”

The smells coming from the kitchen were enticing, and suddenly Lillie felt ravenous. Once she’d torn her gaze from the photographs, she noticed that Hector had set the dining table with his best dishes; a small floral centerpiece sat in the middle.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” He escorted her into the dining room.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. You’re my guest.”

“Hector, I want to help.”

He hesitated but finally agreed. “If you insist. You can cut the bread.”

“You never did tell me what you’re serving.”

“It’s a classic Mexican dish,” Hector teased as he opened a drawer and pulled out a bread knife. “It’s spaghetti. My daughter gave me the recipe. She even went to the store with me and chose the ingredients.”

“You didn’t need to go to all that trouble,” Lillie said, although she was flattered that he had. “We could eat potato chips and it would taste like ambrosia to me because I’m here with you.”

Hector grinned, then took a step closer. “I have been lonely for a long time,” he said in a low voice.

Lillie had spent most of her marriage being lonely. “I have, too,” she told him.

For just a moment it seemed that he was about to kiss her. Their first kiss had been the evening they’d attended the Frida Kahlo lecture at the Seattle Art Museum. At the end of the evening, he’d dropped her at home; he’d declined coffee but walked her to the door. It’d been an awkward moment and by unspoken agreement they’d each leaned forward and kissed. Lillie was eager to repeat the experience. Their kiss had been polite, almost chaste, but very satisfying….

“I’m just reheating the sauce,” he said, wielding a large wooden spoon.

“Hector?” Lillie drew in a deep breath before plunging ahead.

The way she said his name seemed to alert him to the fact that she had something important to say.

“Yes?”

“I want you to know…”

“Yes, Lillie?”

“When it feels right to you, I hope you’ll kiss me again.” She didn’t want him wondering—or worrying—about what her response might be.

“Thank you.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “I shall keep that in mind.”

She picked up the bread knife and carefully sliced the loaf of French bread, arranging the pieces neatly on a serving plate.

After stirring the sauce, Hector boiled the spaghetti noodles; when they were ready, he placed them inside a beautiful hand-painted ceramic dish. Next he poured the meat-and-tomato sauce over the noodles. The salad, waiting in the refrigerator, was already mixed. Lillie put it on the table, along with the bread.

Hector opened a bottle of red wine that he told her Rita had recommended. Then he seated her at the table and sat across from her.

They toasted each other, touching glasses, and began the meal. She discovered that Hector preferred his food spicier than she did but he’d made the sauce fairly mild, adding chili peppers to his own. Another example of his thoughtfulness.

In the beginning their conversation was tentative. But it wasn’t long before the hesitation dissolved and they found any number of topics to discuss. They agreed on political issues and surprisingly had enjoyed some of the same films and novels. Hector bragged about his grandchildren and she told stories about her grandsons. The conversation flowed naturally from one subject to the next as they lingered over their wine. Afterward, despite Hector’s protests, Lillie helped with the dishes. Her shoes hurt her feet, so she took them off and tucked a dishtowel into her waistband as she moved effortlessly around his kitchen.

Hector put on some easy-listening music from the ’70s, and soon they were dancing about the room, twirling and laughing. He kissed her once, twice, and it was as natural as breathing. His touch left her with the most inexplicable urge to weep. Rather than allow him to see the effect his kisses had on her, she buried her face in his shoulder.

Hector released her and they both went back to cleaning the kitchen, dancing around each other as they did.

He was about to kiss her again when the back door opened and Manuel walked inside. Lillie recognized him from his photograph. “Dad, I need to borrow your—” He stopped abruptly. “Dad!” he barked, shouting to be heard above the music.

Instinctively Lillie stepped closer to Hector. He leaned over to turn off the CD player on the counter, and the resulting silence was almost shocking.