“I know what you mean. I think she’s sad about something,” Ryland agreed.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I tell you,” Hunter said, looking philosophically up at the coffered ceiling. “Even though she ran away from the guy and acted like she didn’t want to see him, I think she was glad to see him.”
“What makes you say that?” Ryland asked.
“Because I saw her smiling to herself, a lot, right after she ran into him.”
“Ooooh,” Ryland and Marco said at once.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ryland asked Marco.
“I certainly am,” Marco replied.
“What?” Hunter asked. “What are you two going on about?”
Marco looked to Ryland, then explained. “We think Auntie Joan will be happy if she has what mama and papa have. Each other.”
Ryland stepped in, “Exactly. If Auntie Joan had a husband, then she could have triplets too.”
Marco’s face lit up. “That’s brilliant. I hadn’t thought about that. If Auntie Joan had three babies, then we’d have three cousins. We could play all sorts of sports. It would be awesome.”
“Don’t get too excited, you two,” Hunter said. He was often the voice of reason for the trio.
“And why not?” Ryland and Marco both wanted to know.
“Because Auntie Joan might have triplet girls. Did you think of that?”
“Oh,” Ryland and Marco said, looking more than a little perplexed at that bit of news.
But Hunter was looking up at the ceiling, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, brothers, I think that wouldn’t matter to me, girl cousins or boy cousins. What matters is that Auntie Joan stops being sad.” The three triplets spent a few moments each reflecting pensively on that thought, and finally, Hunter broke the silence. “I almost forgot. Something else happened too.”
“What?” Ryand asked. Marco was too busy trying to bite his toe.
“I’m not sure, but our mama had some sort of fit. I mean, she got super upset and was crying a lot. It scared me, and it had happened before Auntie Joan met that guy, so I forgot about it. Sorry.”
“Oh, no,” Ryland said, “Mama was crying?” His eyes teared up and he stuffed his fist into his mouth, then hiccupped and spit it out.
Marco also looked sad. “I don’t like to hear that. It makes me want to cry as well. Why was our Mama sad?” He asked.
“I don’t know. But, Auntie Joan made Mama feel better, and I think whatever it was she’s gonna be okay,” Hunter said, trying to reassure himself as well as his brothers. “But, let’s agree to keep an eye on her, okay?”
“Okay,” both of his brothers agreed.
Done communicating, they all took a moment to stretch out in their cribs, roll around and drool. Having been together since they were alive, the triplets were comfortable with long silences.
Except for Marco. Marco always needed to be doing something.
“I’m bored,” he complained.
“Tell me about it,” Hunter agreed. “How long do they expect us to stay trapped in these dumb cages? We should do something about this. Hey, Ryland!”
“What?” Ryland said as his mouth opened into a deep yawn.
“You’ve got the loudest voice, would you like the honors?” Hunter asked.
Ryland felt his spirits lifting at the attention, even though it took him a moment to understand what Hunter was driving at. Then he nodded with pride. He wasn’t the biggest and the smartest in the group, but there was no doubt he was the loudest. “I’d love to.”
With his brothers watching on with great admiration and excitement, Ryland screwed up his face, took a tremendous deep breath, tensed every muscle in his body and bawled loud enough to bring everyone in the house running. Their mother was the first to come in, and as she tried to comfort Ryland, but Marco and Hunter took over and started crying as loud as they could until Auntie Sophia and Mamacita were brought in as comfort reinforcements and they made the decision to let the boys out of their cages.
In the kitchen, Ryland was given the first watch eavesdropping on the adults as they passed through. They hoped to get more intel for their plot to help Auntie Joan get happy, and to make sure their mother’s crying fit from earlier was just due to diaper rash or something and nothing permanent.
Chapter Four
ANTONIO FERRARO CURSED his luck as Joan Edwards walked out the café in the same moment as the man he was supposed to meet stepped into the café.
“Joan, wait up!” he called out, hoping the man wouldn’t recognize him. But the man did, holding up his hand in greeting. Antonio wanted to ignore him, walk past him, catch up to Joan and at least get her telephone number, but the man had reached him and he was pumping his hand. Antonio sighed. He needed this man’s help, he couldn’t afford to offend him.
“Señor Gracile, I assume?” he asked in his limited Spanish, as he tried to put Joan Edwards out of his mind.
“Si, Si, that’s-a me,” he said, grinning. Then his face changed and there was an unpleasant rumbling sound coming from the man’s lower half. He doubled over, his face taking on a chartreuse tint.
“Are you okay?
“Just a touch of the stomach flu, excusa me.”
Antonio stood aside and watched as the man hurried to the bathroom.
Antonio wanted to have sympathy for the man but he instinctively didn’t like him because he knew the man’s type. Another hard money lender, a man who would keep his Maserati as collateral to lend him money at absurdly high rates.
Señor Gracile had already told him that even after handing over the car he’d still have to wait two whole days for his money. Unfortunately, Antonio needed the money even with horrible terms, provided he got it before his next payment was due to a far more unsavory character – his bookie.
It was the whole reason he’d come to Barcelona. The reason he’d not chased after Joan.
Joan!
Antonio gave himself a mental head slap. Couldn’t he go look for her while the man was busy in the bathroom? He rushed to the exit and scanned in both directions, hoping to spot her, but he saw no sign. He considered picking a direction and trying to find her in the crowd, but he didn’t want to run the risk of pissing off his last hope of making his next payment to his bookie. He’d heard about the things that man and his thugs did when their clients were delinquent on their payments. He didn’t want to find out, which was why he’d arranged for this stop-gap loan.
Besides, why should he chase after Joan? She wanted nothing to do with him. She’d gotten her life together. That spark he thought he felt was just his mind, playing tricks on him. Joan didn’t need him in her life, and she’d said how she felt when she took off.
He thought about how well she looked.
She appeared to be sober and off drugs, and so healthy. She had meat on her bones for a change, which only made her more beautiful. And she had a baby.
His stomach twisted into knots, at the idea that there was another man in her life, a man that had given her a child, a man that obviously was taking care of her, making her happy. He recalled the time when he’d wanted to marry her, the time when he’d come home with an engagement ring. Then he recalled what happened after that, and he gave up on the idea of tracking Joan down at all.
He’d misjudged her, and she would probably never forgive him for that. If he truly cared about her, he would let her go and stay far away from her. She’d found someone. She was married, had a family and was happy.
As much as he wanted her, as much as his body was clamoring for her, he had to consider that he wouldn’t be doing her any favors by messing with her life. He’d screwed up a lot of things in his life, but, one thing he’d never been to his knowledge was a home wrecker. It wasn’t his style to mess around with a married woman.
Stepping back into the café, Antonio looked around for Señor Gracile, thinking that he’d probably come out of the bathroom by that point and was waiting for him at one of the op