When Mila inherited the mini-hacienda from her grandmother, she’d invited Claudie to share it. Since then, Greta had come over the afternoon of the Raccoon Christmas party so they could get dressed together and Mila could do her hair. After their dad died, their mom had decided to tag along.
They arrived at four and were still hanging up their coats when Greta burst out with, “What’s the deal with Cole? Are you two…” She paused to make air quotes. “Involved?”
Claudie sent Mila a wide-eyed look. “I promise I didn’t tell?—”
“I know you didn’t.” Her cheeks grew warm, which she hated. She was thirty years old, for fudge sake. But making love with Cole was so rambunctious and thrilling that thinking about it made her entire body flush.
“Rio told us,” Greta said. “He came over to snitch some Christmas cookies this morning. To hear him tell it, he interrupted a make-out session in the woods near the front gate.”
Great. So now she was even redder. And couldn’t look her mother in the eye.
Claudie started laughing. “Oh, my.”
“That’s all the evidence I need.” Greta glanced at Claudie. “And you already knew?”
“I did.”
Greta zeroed in on Mila. “Spill it.”
“Yes, we’re involved.” She gathered her forces and lifted her chin. “And I’m very happy about it.”
“Me, too!” Greta raced over and gave her a hug. “We’ve been hoping you’d get together ever since the wedding.”
“We?”
“Mom and me. We’ve talked about it a lot.”
Mila finally met her mother’s amused gaze. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t say a lot, mija, but you two made such a cute couple at the reception — Cole playing his fiddle and you doing the vocals. I thought that would be the tipping point, but I guess not.”
“We…um…we weren’t ready.”
“But then he invited you over to see his secret project.” Greta’s cheeks dimpled in a teasing grin. “Was that the tipping point?”
“In a way.”
“Aha! So now you can tell us about that project, right?”
“No, I can’t.”
“What?” Her little sister grabbed her again. “But we’re your nearest and dearest! And we’re champion secret keepers.”
“It’ll be a way better surprise if you know nothing before you see it.”
“But that won’t be until Christmas. C’mon, give us a hint.”
“Nope.”
“Last night she let it slip that it moved,” Claudie said, “and that Dad would have loved it.”
“Dios.” Their mother threw up her hands. “Please tell me it’s not a gate. There’s nothing your papa loved more than gates but enough is enough.”
“He loved you more than gates, Mamacita.” Greta gave her a side hug.
“Un poquito,” Her smile was bittersweet.
“It’s not a gate,” Claudie said. “And it’s not a zombie Santa or those sparkly deer statues people put in their yards.”
