Finding Isadora(61)

“Maria?” I asked, trying not to sound desperately curious.

“Yes, she is a wonderful lady. And the two of them are so close.”

“Lovely,” I muttered. So Maria was wonderful. And smart and gorgeous, no doubt, as well as being so close to Gabriel.

Margarida’s eyes narrowed. “She has adapted so well to this country, you know. Better than many of the older ladies. She is a good role model.”

“She’s a, uh, older lady?”

“In her early seventies.” The hint of a smile twitched her mouth. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” I said hurriedly. Then, belatedly, the rest of what Margarida had said sunk in. “Mr. DeLuca hangs out at this Portuguese community center?” Somehow it didn’t seem in character. I’d envisioned him as more of a loner.

She nodded enthusiastically. “He is a lawyer, you know. He gives talks sometimes, free for anyone who wants to come, and tells people about their legal rights. And he helps them with things like reading contracts and making wills. The older people especially, who don’t speak English so well or can’t afford to hire a lawyer.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“My mother says that his mother, bless her soul”—she made the sign of the cross—”would be very proud of him.”

“I’m sure she would.”

A good Portuguese son. One who hadn’t shared that heritage with his own son.

The door bell jingled and Jill and Mona, a pair of retired teachers, strode in with their lovely weimaraner, Dustin. Time to get back to work.

I was busy for an hour or so, then there was a lull and I went to our staff room to make myself a cup of peppermint tea. Martin came in on my heels, glanced around rather furtively, then said, “Your friend Janice has been tutoring me. Thanks for arranging it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad it’s working out.”

Jan would be furious if I didn’t take advantage of this opportunity, so I said, “The two of you are getting along well?”

Had his dark cheeks just grown a little rosy? She’s very smart, and a great teacher.”

“And a nice person,” I added. “We’ve been friends since elementary school.”

“So … she’s your age?” he asked, his back to me as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

Janice, with her shiny hair, clear skin, and lack of make-up did look younger than twenty-seven. I hoped Martin wouldn’t be too disappointed—or discouraged—when I said, “Yes, she is.”

He nodded and stirred milk and sugar into his coffee. “Got a Masters in Education?”

“That’s right.”

“High school teacher, that’s an important job.”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “Martin, are you … interested in her?”

His usually steady hand jerked and coffee slopped over the rim of his mug. “Interested? No, no.” He mopped up the spill. “Woman like her’s out my league.” Grabbing up the mug, he hurried from the break room.

I sighed. Clearly, he was interested. And so was Janice. Would the two of them manage to stumble their way into a relationship or were they both too insecure to make the first move? Would he tell her the details of his past, and would Jan be able to understand?

Did the course of true love ever run smooth?

It was mid-afternoon when Grace and Alyssa showed up. They looked almost like mother and daughter in their jeans and pink T-shirts with peace symbols on the front. I remembered the similar tee I’d worn to elementary school, and the ambivalent feelings it had caused me. Of course I believed in peace, not war, but I’d have preferred to make a fashion statement rather than a political one.

I bent down to give Alyssa a hug, which she returned warmly. “Nice shirt,” I told her. “Does that symbol mean something special?”

The girl smiled proudly. “Peace, Izzie. It means, people in the world should make love, not war.”

I choked back a chuckle, and gazed up to meet my mother’s laughing eyes. “You’re recruiting them young, Grace Dean.” Then I turned again to Alyssa. “You’re absolutely right, honey. If everyone thought like you, the world would be a much better place.”

“Doc, is this my apprentice?” Britt, the high school student who worked for the clinic, clomped up in the baggy, dark clothing that was her own fashion statement. “Hey, kid, cool tee.”

“Thanks,” Alyssa said shyly. Staring at the pink Kool-Aid streaks in Britt’s blond hair, she added, “Cool hair.”

Britt laughed. “We’re going to get along fine.” She extended a hand. “Want to go meet the animals?”

Alyssa cast a quick, questioning look at Grace and me, then said, “Yes, please,” and took Britt’s hand.

When the two girls had headed toward the back, Grace said, “Looks like they’ll be okay for a while. Can I use the phone in your office, hon?”

“Sure.”

I ushered her in and shoved files out of the way. “Work or pleasure?”

“Work. The disability rights case. I’m calling people on disability benefits to explain what we’re doing. To see if they’re interested and might qualify as plaintiffs.”

“Qualify?”