Free The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True by Eileen Goudge Page B

devouring two thick wedges smothered in butter and Blessed Bee honey. Afterward, sipping her coffee at the table, she felt a contentment that eluded her most days. Maybe it was this kitchen, so rooted in memory: family meals about the oak harvest table, arriving home from school to find a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade in the fridge, Lupe teaching Audrey and her to pat out tortillas and prepare masa for tamales. There’d been popcorn popped in a long-handled wire basket over the open fire, birthday cakes decorated with marshmallows and gumdrops, and a gingerbread house each year at Christmastime.
    She gazed about her, at the blackened fireplace and mantel hung with copper pots, the built-in cupboard with its hodgepodge of china she’d collected or inherited over the years. Sunlight fell in leafy patterns over the Mexican tiles at her feet. On the patio out back she could see a lemon tree, laden with fruit ready to be picked. An overlooked champagne glass from yesterday’s festivities glittered on the wrought-iron bench by the pool.
    The thought of Ian crept in, causing her heart to quicken.
    “Oh, by the way,” she said, “don’t bother with lunch. I’m driving up the coast with a friend.”
    Lupe, washing dishes already spotless, turned from the sink. “Anyone I know?”
    Sam felt her face grow warm. “Wes’s son.”
    “The tall, blond one with hair to here?” Lupe brought a soapy hand to her shoulder.
    “His name’s Ian. He’s an artist. Quite talented from what I’ve heard.” Sam spoke lightly, almost tripping over her words. “He offered to show me his paintings.”
    “Dios mio.” Lupe cranked off the tap with a groan of old pipes.
    Sam stiffened. This was the price she paid for the woman having helped raise her: a housekeeper who acted more like a mother. “It’s not what you think,” she said.
    “If you know what I’m thinking, you know it’s wrong.”
    “Why? Because he’s young and I’m…” Sam faltered. How could she expect Lupe, of all people, to understand? Weakly, she finished, “I’m not that old.”
    Lupe dried her hands with her apron—hands as tough as old shoe leather. “Not now,” she said. “But one day you will be. You need a man who will look after you.” A subtle reference, Sam knew, to Martin’s shortcomings.
    “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.” She pushed herself to her feet and carried her plate and mug to the sink.
    Lupe eyed her narrowly. “Will you be back in time for supper?”
    “Don’t count on it.”
    Her words had the desired effect. Lupe’s lips drew in as tightly as a drawstring. And this was just the tip of the iceberg. Sam’s daughters would be scandalized as well. To Alice, who’d worshipped her father, another man—never mind that it was Ian—would seem almost a sacrilege, while Laura would see it as one more cause to fret.
    As she climbed the stairs, Sam thought of the girl who’d crashed the wedding. She wondered if Laura had made any headway with her. I ought to phone —
    She hadn’t finished the thought when it rang. Audrey calling to say what a wonderful time she’d had…and oh, by the way, had anyone reported getting sick? Grant was up half the night throwing up and thought it might have been something he ate.
    Minutes later her brother called on his way to the airport. “Great party, Sis.” Ray’s voice boomed over the crackle of his cell phone. “Next time you’re out our way we’ll return the favor, Texas style.”
    She couldn’t help smiling. Ray, a recent transplant to the Dallas area, had become more Texan than the Ewings of South Fork. When she’d visited last fall, her brother had greeted her at the airport wearing a ten-gallon hat and three-hundred-dollar Tony Lama boots. The barbecue in her honor had consisted of fifty of their “closest” friends, and enough ribs to feed a small third world nation.
    After that several more people phoned to say what a beautiful wedding it had been and