Free Love's Haven by Catherine Palmer Page A

tried to think of a response as she placed her jeans, shirts and socks in the drawers of the large oak bureau near her bed. “I’m sorry, too.”
    “None of us could believe it when we heard the news. Mr. Rosemond was a good man.”
    Mara turned quickly. “You knew my husband?”
    “Sure. He always stopped by the house when he and Mr. B. were going on trips. I remember he came by once when they were hot-air ballooning, and another time when they had explored a cave near Carlsbad. He was here a lot before he got married. But after that, we didn’t see him as much. We all liked your husband. Mr. B. came back happier when they had been out on trips together. He seemed…lighter, you know?”
    Mara shrugged. “Todd was like that. He made life fun.”
    Uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation, she realized she didn’t like to be reminded of Todd’s friendship with Brock. If the two had never known each other, Todd would be alive today. He would hold his newborn daughter and kiss his wife. The world would be normal, instead of a mess. It was hard enough to lose a husband without the reminder that his presence had been valued by someone else. Valued by the man who ultimately failed him.
    “Mr. B. is lonely these days,” Rosa Maria said. “Even though you would never hear him say it, he misses his friend a lot. Mr. B. is hard and tough on the outside, youknow? He’s closed off like a torreón with thick walls built high for protection. He doesn’t open up for people.”
    “What about all those Las Cruces party friends?” Mara asked under her breath.
    “Them?” Rosa Maria chuckled as she set a crystal water carafe and glass on the bedside table. “Oh, no. They don’t talk together, those people. They dance, drink, swim, have fun. Nothing serious.”
    “Sounds like Brock is pretty lighthearted to me.”
    “Maybe for a while. Then he goes back to the same way. Quiet, working too hard, a little bit angry, you know? But after spending time with Mr. Rosemond on one of their adventures, he always relaxed. He whistled at his work. He made jokes and teased Pierre…like this morning. I’ll tell you, when Mr. B. came back from a trip with your husband, we could always know. Can you guess how we knew?”
    Mara shook her head, but she figured she was going to get an answer anyway.
    “He put his feet on the dining-room table, that’s how.”
    “What?” she said with a sudden laugh. “His feet?”
    “Boots and all. You see, usually Mr. B. sits there in the morning very stiff and brooding with his laptop and cell phone and all his pencils and pens. While he eats breakfast, he plans out everything he wants to do that day. He talks into his little phone, taps messages on his machines, scowls at everybody. He makes us nervous.”
    “I can see why.”
    “But for a few days after he got back from spending time with his friend, he would be happy. Relaxed. He would leave the laptop in his car or his study. And he would lean back in his chair and put his feet on the table.”
    Mara couldn’t hold in her smile. It wasn’t only the image of Brock with his boots on the table that warmed her. It was Todd. Her husband had touched everyone he knew with his special brand of affection.
    “Mr. B., he hasn’t been the same since your husband died,” Rosa Maria went on. “For months now, he doesn’t talk to anyone. He’s very difficult. Like he’s on edge. Everything has to be done the right way.”
    “I know about that. When I was in labor with the baby, he told me I hadn’t done things logically.”
    Rosa Maria laughed out loud. “Yes, logic. That’s Mr. B. Always in control of everything. Logic, order, organization, perfection—that’s what matters to him. ‘Do it right, Rosa Maria,’ he tells me. Everything must meet his standards.”
    Mara shook her head. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”
    “Oh, Mr. B. has a big heart, great tenderness. But his heart is buried deep inside. Locked away. I don’t