"I doubt that they did," Dan said. "Carolina May, meet my father."

"Better known as Dad," John said, deadpan.

"And I'm better known as Carly. I was just asking Dan about lunch places in town."

"And he was taking you to Chez Duran," John said.

Carly opened her mouth.

Dan beat her to it. "Actually, I was about to recommend Joseph's Table."

"Diana would have your butt for a football if you sent a pretty lady somewhere else to eat. Especially alone."

"Dad-"

The note in his voice gave wings to Carly's tongue. "Thank you but it's not necessary. Dan's been trapped in a basement babysitting me while I work with the newspaper archives. I wouldn't think of imposing on him anymore." She glanced at her watch and then at Dan. "Back here at two-fifteen, right?"

"Wrong," John said, holding her firmly in place. He gave Dan a cool look. "Trapped with a good-looking woman? Imposing on you?"

"Gus didn't have anyone to spare," Dan said.

"So you volunteered?"

"Not exactly."

John shook his head at his son, sad and irritated at the same time. "We can live without you smiling. But bad manners? Your mother and I won't have it." He turned and smiled gently at Carly. "Do you like New Mexican food?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Her stomach rumbled.

"Hell," Dan said, disgusted. "Take her home and feed her. I've got some online work to do." He looked at Carly. "One hour."

"What work?" John said. "I thought you were on vacation."

Dan walked off without answering. The less his father knew about why he was here, the better. Nobody who worked for St. Kilda was ever truly on vacation.

Carly was still trying to find reasons why she shouldn't go to the Duran house with John when he opened the front door of his home and gently nudged her inside.

"Diana? I brought you a treat," he said.

Carly wanted to groan. No woman considered an unexpected, unknown guest to be a treat.

"Bring it back here," called a woman's voice.

John led Carly through a cozy living room. One room was brightened by the framed, smiling faces of children in school photos. Some baby and toddler pictures were clustered on a table. She looked for photos of the previous generations, but saw none.

Odd. Most people keep all their family photos together, young and old and in between.

The thought vanished as soon as Carly walked into the kitchen. It was alive with the kind of food smells that made her stomach want to howl. Several pots simmered on the back of a tiny woodburning stove that also served to heat the room. A vintage gas range stood opposite a refrigerator and big sink. If the tank visible in the backyard was any indication, the range had been converted to use propane. Heavy, well-used pots and pans hung from the ceiling within reach of a big butcher block that was so old its surface was gently dished. Ropes of dried peppers in many colors and sizes hung with the pans, interspersed with braids of onions. Smaller braids of garlic, an ingredient not often associated with traditional Southwest cuisine, peeked from behind a huge frying pan.

Carly took a deep breath and tried not to drool. "What a great kitchen."

"It's my favorite room in the house," John said. "Used to be Dan's, too, but nothing much pleases him now."

Before she could ask what had happened to Dan, John gestured her toward a small glassed-in room just off the kitchen. Inside, a nicely rounded woman wearing jeans and a man's shirt was tending to row after row of small plants. Her short hair was very dark, with a startling streak of silver at her left temple.

"Wash your hands, sweetheart," John said. "I want you to meet Carly May."

For an instant, Carly thought she saw tension stiffen the woman's body.

"Momentito," Diana said, the word almost too soft to hear. Deliberately she washed and dried her hands, keeping her back to the guest.

Carly wanted to sink between the cracks in the old wood floor.

Finally Diana turned around. The lines on her face said that she was old enough to be a grandmother. The darkness in her eyes said that life's journey hadn't been an easy one. Then, after an uncomfortable moment while Diana assessed the stranger in her kitchen, she smiled. It transformed her from a dark, brooding presence to a beautiful woman.

Well, no doubt where Dan got his looks, Carly thought as she automatically held out her hand while John introduced them. But, wow, that smile. You could light up winter with that. She wondered if Dan had inherited the smile along with the coloring.

Then she wondered what it would take to find out.

"You have a fantastic kitchen," Carly said. "I've always wanted one like this, a place that's warm and welcoming."

"You're very kind," Diana said. Her voice was subdued, almost hesitant, and vibrant with leashed emotions.

Dan's voice has Diana's intensity and their smiles are to die for. Carly almost sighed. It must be nice to look at someone and see yourself reflected.

The familiar sense of being somehow incomplete flickered through her. She shrugged it off, reminding herself that a lot of people didn't know who one or both parents were, and got along just fine anyway.

"I'm sorry to impose," Carly said. "Your husband, um, didn't listen to me."

Diana's eyes softened as she looked toward John. "He's a bulldozer, but a gentle one. I don't mind when he brings interesting people home."

Carly sighed. "I'm very ordinary."

Diana shook her head and said distinctly, "No, Ms. May. Nothing intelligent is ordinary."

Carly's stomach growled even as she said, "Please call me Carly."

"She's starving to death," John said, "and Dan was sending her to Joseph's Table."

"An excellent place," Diana said, "but my kitchen is less crowded. Sit down, Carly. How do you feel about carnitas and beans?"

"Predatory."

Diana's laugh was as incredible as her smile. She kissed her husband's cheek. "Thank you for bringing her. Now let's get the poor girl some food."

Grinning, John warmed a colorful plate, put carnitas and beans and steaming hot tortillas on it, and set it down on the table in front of Carly. Diana put a bowl of mixed salad greens next to their guest and sprinkled homemade herb dressing over it.

Carly looked at the fresh, fragrant food and almost drooled.

"Eat," Diana said. "There will be time enough for questions later."

Carly ate and listened to John and Diana talk about the Indian children in Taos Pueblo, which ones were learning well and which weren't, and how to reach the ones who didn't want to learn. The conversation was normal for a teacher's household, the camaraderie of husband and wife was unusually deep, and the food was incredible.

As the slow, sweet heat of New Mexican cuisine spread through Carly, she learned that Diana had been born and raised in Taos and John hadn't. Diana knew the parents and grandparents of the children she worked with. Sometimes even the great-grandparents. John was at home in the area, but not a lifelong resident. Both husband and wife shared the common concerns of parents for their grown children, and relished the chance to hold and love their grandchildren.

Several times Carly tried to get Diana to talk about the Taos of her childhood and of her parents' and grandparents' childhood. Each time, the conversation gently parted around Carly's words and flowed on, following its own course while she was urged to eat, there would be time for questions later.

She took a third tortilla from the warmer, told herself that she wasn't hungry, and filled it with carnitas anyway. If the first day had been any example, she'd be fending for herself when it came to mealtimes at the Quintrell ranch house. The only one who seemed pleased to have her around was Winifred, and she wasn't feeling very frisky at the moment.