at the table might civilize this group after all. Lord knows I can’t do it alone.”
Esme sat and smiled at Loretta, unfolded her napkin, and settled it on her lap. Loretta was a handsome woman, who, like Nolan, was about fifty. Her grey eyes held a glint of humor and her hair was a magnificent swathe of chestnut she’d pulled up in a bun. She wore a burgundy velvet dress that was every bit as formal as Esme’s. After admiring the older lady for a moment, Esme searched the table but, aside from Loretta, she found nothing but men and boys. The torture of waiting to meet Luke’s wife was simply too much for her to bear a moment longer.
“Where is Mrs. Crosby?” she asked Luke softly.
Conversation died away. People shifted in their seats giving each other confused looks. Nolan lifted his glass of whiskey and drained it setting it on the table with a loud bang. “That’s just exactly what Loretta and I want to know. We been asking for a long time now. Where is Mrs. Crosby?”
The boys snickered and giggled.
“There’s no Mrs. Crosby,” Luke said to Esme. A scowl spread across his features. “Did you think I was married?”
The boys leaned forward in their chairs, awaiting her response. The candlelight made their wide eyes shine with twinkles of curiosity and mirth. Esme heard the grandfather clock in the corner ticking loudly, the pendulum swaying back and forth.
Esme flushed and stared at Luke in bewilderment. “I thought you were married to a woman named Consuelo.”
Several of the boys sputtered and snorted to keep from laughing. They tried to conceal their amusement with coughs.
“Did that lady just say Consuelo?” Salvador asked another in a loud whisper.
They jostled, elbowed, and leaned forward, awaiting what Luke might say about that. One boy fell out of his chair again, and the attention was diverted to getting him settled. It was a collective effort that involved scoldings, a few oaths, and finally a slightly changed seating arrangement. Finally the boys turned back to Luke, craning their necks, waiting to hear his response. Before Luke could say anything, the door from the kitchen swung open, and the Mexican woman Esme had seen earlier in the farmyard burst into the room carrying a steaming platter of enchiladas.
“Ha!” she proclaimed. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. Luke would love to be married to me. He proposes every time I make enchiladas, but I’m married to Roberto.” She set the platter on the table, turned to face Esme. “Luke only loves me for my cooking anyway.”
Nolan nodded his head. “Hell, I’d ask Consuelo to marry me, if I didn’t already have a missus.”
Loretta winked at Esme. “I’m practically famous for my bad cooking.”
Consuelo snorted, turning back to the kitchen and waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder. David grinned at his companions and called out a proposal to Consuelo as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. Her reply, a flurry of Spanish, resounded through the swinging door.
“Let’s pray so we can eat,” Luke said quietly. Everyone bowed their heads. “David, your turn,” Luke directed. The boy stood and said Grace, and as soon as the boys said Amen, they pushed their chairs back and descended upon the food like Viking raiders. Within moments, they’d returned to their seats with laden plates.
Loretta noticed Esme’s dismay and misinterpreted it. “We always let the locusts eat first. Don’t worry, Consuelo has plenty.”
Esme blinked. She was hardly aware of the boy’s ravenous appetites. She could only think back to the day when her father had summoned her to the library and announced Luke Crosby was married with a baby on the way. The memory of that moment had played in her mind a thousand times since.
“You should thank me for never sending any of your ridiculous letters to that mongrel.” Her father had gloated as he tossed the bundle of envelopes across the expanse of his
Esme sat and smiled at Loretta, unfolded her napkin, and settled it on her lap. Loretta was a handsome woman, who, like Nolan, was about fifty. Her grey eyes held a glint of humor and her hair was a magnificent swathe of chestnut she’d pulled up in a bun. She wore a burgundy velvet dress that was every bit as formal as Esme’s. After admiring the older lady for a moment, Esme searched the table but, aside from Loretta, she found nothing but men and boys. The torture of waiting to meet Luke’s wife was simply too much for her to bear a moment longer.
“Where is Mrs. Crosby?” she asked Luke softly.
Conversation died away. People shifted in their seats giving each other confused looks. Nolan lifted his glass of whiskey and drained it setting it on the table with a loud bang. “That’s just exactly what Loretta and I want to know. We been asking for a long time now. Where is Mrs. Crosby?”
The boys snickered and giggled.
“There’s no Mrs. Crosby,” Luke said to Esme. A scowl spread across his features. “Did you think I was married?”
The boys leaned forward in their chairs, awaiting her response. The candlelight made their wide eyes shine with twinkles of curiosity and mirth. Esme heard the grandfather clock in the corner ticking loudly, the pendulum swaying back and forth.
Esme flushed and stared at Luke in bewilderment. “I thought you were married to a woman named Consuelo.”
Several of the boys sputtered and snorted to keep from laughing. They tried to conceal their amusement with coughs.
“Did that lady just say Consuelo?” Salvador asked another in a loud whisper.
They jostled, elbowed, and leaned forward, awaiting what Luke might say about that. One boy fell out of his chair again, and the attention was diverted to getting him settled. It was a collective effort that involved scoldings, a few oaths, and finally a slightly changed seating arrangement. Finally the boys turned back to Luke, craning their necks, waiting to hear his response. Before Luke could say anything, the door from the kitchen swung open, and the Mexican woman Esme had seen earlier in the farmyard burst into the room carrying a steaming platter of enchiladas.
“Ha!” she proclaimed. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. Luke would love to be married to me. He proposes every time I make enchiladas, but I’m married to Roberto.” She set the platter on the table, turned to face Esme. “Luke only loves me for my cooking anyway.”
Nolan nodded his head. “Hell, I’d ask Consuelo to marry me, if I didn’t already have a missus.”
Loretta winked at Esme. “I’m practically famous for my bad cooking.”
Consuelo snorted, turning back to the kitchen and waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder. David grinned at his companions and called out a proposal to Consuelo as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. Her reply, a flurry of Spanish, resounded through the swinging door.
“Let’s pray so we can eat,” Luke said quietly. Everyone bowed their heads. “David, your turn,” Luke directed. The boy stood and said Grace, and as soon as the boys said Amen, they pushed their chairs back and descended upon the food like Viking raiders. Within moments, they’d returned to their seats with laden plates.
Loretta noticed Esme’s dismay and misinterpreted it. “We always let the locusts eat first. Don’t worry, Consuelo has plenty.”
Esme blinked. She was hardly aware of the boy’s ravenous appetites. She could only think back to the day when her father had summoned her to the library and announced Luke Crosby was married with a baby on the way. The memory of that moment had played in her mind a thousand times since.
“You should thank me for never sending any of your ridiculous letters to that mongrel.” Her father had gloated as he tossed the bundle of envelopes across the expanse of his
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