their way around a kitchen. I left Selena stirring the sauce for the enchiladas. Knowing how distracted she gets by those text messages she receives every couple of minutes, I’d better check on it before it burns.”
Adelia frowned. “She’s not supposed to be using her cell phone these days.”
Her mother looked startled. “I see. She didn’t mention that.”
“I’d better go in there and deal with this,” Adelia said.
Her mother waved her off. “I can handle it.”
“Thanks,” Adelia said, relieved not to have to force yet another confrontation with her daughter or get caught in her mother’s crosshairs.
Adelia avoided Gabe’s gaze as she led the way to the backyard. When she finally risked a glance, she found his eyes sparkling with barely concealed mirth.
“When did I become the lesser of two evils?” he asked.
“In the past five minutes,” she said, not even trying to pretend he hadn’t hit the target with his observation. “If I’d had any idea she and Elliott had been chatting about you and me, you wouldn’t have gotten within a hundred yards of this place while she was here. I don’t need the aggravation.”
A smile spread across his face. “You’re scared of your mother,” he taunted.
“Terrified,” Adelia admitted, seeing little reason to deny it. “Why do you find that so amusing?”
“Because you’re a pretty formidable presence in your own right.”
“Formidable? Me?” she said, laughing. “Hardly. As you just heard, not even my own daughter takes my rules seriously.”
“Maybe you need to see yourself from where I’m standing,” Gabe said, his expression turning serious. “Seems to me you could hold your own with anybody, even Selena. She’s just testing the limits.”
Adelia wished she could see herself that way. After years of Ernesto’s criticism and neglect, she had a very low opinion of her own worth. She was determined to get past that, but she wasn’t there yet.
“So, what is it about your mother that intimidates you?” Gabe asked.
Adelia gave the question a moment’s thought before responding. “She has some very rigid and old-fashioned ideas about the role of women, the sanctity of marriage and in general about the relationships between men and women. I’ve been a disappointment.”
He looked skeptical. “I didn’t hear even a hint of judgment in her voice, just concern.”
“You haven’t had the practice I’ve had at reading between the lines,” Adelia told him. “It’s ironic really, because on many levels, I don’t even disagree with her.”
“So you’re an old-fashioned woman at heart?”
She considered the label. It actually fit better than she’d realized. She might chafe at it, but she’d done nothing in her life that would indicate she’d broken that particular mold. Until very recently she hadn’t even been sure she wanted to. It was only lately that she’d come to appreciate the value of independence and self-sufficiency.
“In some ways, I suppose I am old-fashioned,” she said. “I liked being a stay-at-home mom and wife. I thought marriage vows meant forever.” She shrugged. “I’ve just come to accept that some marriages can’t be saved.”
She shuddered at the memory of the day she’d broken the news of her intention to divorce Ernesto. “You have no idea how much courage it took for me to tell my devoutly Catholic mother that I was leaving my husband. That brought on a huge family intervention that entailed quite a bit of yelling and a host of recriminations about how I’d failed the test as a dutiful wife.”
Gabe regarded her with surprise. “She disapproved, even under the circumstances?”
“At first I was too humiliated to admit the reason, so she vehemently disapproved. When I was finally persuaded to tell her everything, it took some adjustment on her part, but she actually turned out to be surprisingly supportive.”
“And the rest of the family?”
“Elliott and his wife have been incredible,” she said. “The others, not so much.” She held up a hand. “Could we drop this? It’s more than you ever really wanted or needed to know about my personal life, I’m sure.”
Gabe looked as if he wanted to argue about that, but he nodded and gestured toward the shed. “The ladder’s in there? Is it locked?”
“No, it’s open.”
She took a deep breath and fought for composure while he got the extension ladder and put it against the side of the house. No sooner had he started up to the roof, than Tomas spotted him and came running across the yard.
“Who’s that?” he asked, staring after Gabe. “Can I go up on the roof with him?”
He already had one foot on the bottom rung when Adelia clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Not now,” she said firmly. “Let Gabe do his job.”
Tomas stared up at the roof, his disappointment plain. “But what’s he doing?”
“Looking to see what kind of shape the roof is in and what it will take to fix it,” she said.
Tomas frowned. “Do we know him?”
“I do,” she said. “You remember Mitch Franklin?”
“The man who’s fixing all those stores on Main Street,” Tomas said. “He’s married to the cupcake lady.”
Adelia smiled at the characterization. Clearly baking cupcakes was more memorable to Tomas than Lynn’s name. “Exactly. Gabe is his cousin. He works for Mitch.”
“Is he gonna do anything else here?” he asked, his curious gaze still fixed on Gabe, who was scrambling over the steep roof with the agility of a mountain goat.
“Lots of things,” Adelia said. “He or the people who work for him are going to do all those things on that list we made.”
“Like paint my room?”
She smiled at his sudden eagerness. “That’s definitely on the list,” she agreed.
“Will he let me help? Mitch let Jeremy help when he was working at Raylene’s.”
“I’m sure he’ll try to find some things you can do,” Adelia said, hoping that would be the case. She was sure Tomas would start to feel better about this new home if he had even a tiny role to play in making the necessary improvements. “You have to promise, though, to do exactly what Gabe or any of the other professionals tell you to do and never to do anything involving tools without supervision.”
“Promise,” Tomas said, his attention already wandering as he saw Gabe descending the ladder. He scampered over to wait for him.
“Hi,” he said, startling Gabe so badly he almost missed his footing. “I’m
