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varieties,” Emerita told her. “I was real sad to leave them, but I never imagined they’d grow here.”
    “We have to take them in if we get frost, but most of the time I leave them outside,” Cindy assured her. “They just need a sheltered place.”
    “What colors do you have?” The next thing I knew, my swanky daughter-in-law and Mrs. Garcia were discussing crotons like bosom buddies. Why hadn’t I ever talked plants with Cindy?
    Miss Garcia bent for a private word in my ear. “You could not have pleased her more. Mami loves plants. Did you see the patio? She planned the whole thing and persuaded Papi to let her finish it for opening night, even if it is too cold to sit out there yet. She said people will remember and come back when it gets warm.”
    I hoped she wouldn’t be offended, but I had to ask. “Why aren’t any Mexicans here? I’d have thought they’d be flocking in.”
    Her laugh was soft and pleasant. “Mexicans like to eat late. The place should be lively for quite a while.” She looked up and drew a quick breath, but I saw no cause for alarm. It was not Charlie, but Isaac James paying his bill and standing to one side to let the MacDonalds enter.
    I know it’s not polite, but I stared at Gwen Ellen. She’d cut her hair. Slightly longer than Cindy’s, it also hung straight from a side part to cup her jaw. She looked several years younger. She also looked pale and peaky. Her nervous stomach must be acting up again.
    Laura and Skye were with her, but not Skell. They worked their way through the crowd, stopping for Skye to speak to somebody at almost every table. When he got to ours he gave everybody a wave. “Howdy, folks. Lookin’ great tonight.” He gave Rosa a wide smile. “Great place you all’ve got here. Hope the food’s as good as everything looks.” He clapped Joe Riddley on the shoulder. “We’ve got that property sewed up. I talked to the owner after you left.”
    Gwen Ellen threw me a wan smile, but she looked like she might throw up if she opened her mouth to speak. Skye really shouldn’t have brought her out, feeling like she did.
    Miss Garcia touched her mother’s arm. “We need to get back to the kitchen before Carmen burns someone’s dinner.” She turned and glided away.
    Emerita slapped one cheek with her fingers and her eyes widened. “Talking about plants, I forgot the kitchen. I hope you enjoy your meals.” She bustled out at her daughter’s heels.
    Across the room, Marilee Muller was giving the air little jabs, trying to attract Skye’s attention. He finally noticed and gave her a smile, but when she beckoned him over, he called, “Our table’s ready,” and steered Gwen Ellen to her chair.
    Marilee’s smile stayed on her face, but her eyes grew stormy. Skye must not have given her the deal she wanted on that car.
    Gwen Ellen’s chair faced mine, and what I saw worried me. Her face was pale, her eyes huge and distracted. Even though she smiled when she saw me looking at her, her expression was anxious and strained. Since Skell wasn’t with them, I wondered if he was still mad at his daddy. Their quarrels always made Gwen Ellen sick.
    The MacDonalds’ food had just arrived when Nicole, from MacDonald Motors’ front desk, waltzed in on those impossibly high-soled sandals. Her coat hung open, and in honor of the occasion she’d put on a long red dress. In the glow of all the colored lights, her hair looked like spun glass.
    Mr. Garcia bustled over to explain that she’d need to wait for a table, but Laura saw what was going on and went to bring her to their table. Skye beamed. Gwen Ellen gave her a wan smile of welcome. From then on, Nicole took over the conversation, talking and waving her hands like she was trying out for a part. Whatever she was saying must have been funny, because Laura and Skye laughed and even Gwen Ellen smiled—although she looked like she wished she were home.
    Her face brightened, though, when Skell rushed through the door