“You’ve said several times that your place on Twelfth Street isn’t anywhere big enough. Hell, my place is big enough for three families. And I don’t know what you’ve decided about your mother, but if you wanted her to stay with you, there’s enough room for her to have her own apartment there, and you’d never know it.”
Estelle looked down at the ground and made her way to the bench. She sat down with her hands clasped between her knees.
“How is she, by the way?” I added.
“Francis has her scheduled for hip-replacement surgery on December second.”
“Ouch. That’s a long time to wait.”
Estelle nodded. “There are still some heart irregularities that they’re trying to get under control first, so they postponed the hip. Nothing life-threatening, Francis says. But worrisome. She’s reasonably comfortable.”
The dark circles under Estelle’s eyes were worrisome as well, and I said, “Maybe this isn’t a good time to talk about the house. But I’d sure rather know you guys were living there than a bunch of strangers who didn’t understand the place.”
“Complete with cemetery in the backyard.” Estelle chuckled.
“That’s going to be resolved. The old lady’s going to be moved, whether Florencio Apodaca likes it or not.”
Estelle reached over and put her hand on top of mine. “It’s a beautiful home, sir. And I’m touched that you’d even consider such a thing.” She hesitated and glanced at Camille. “But I don’t think we’re in a position to take on something like that.”
“If you’re talking about price, that’s not a problem,” I said. I indicated my daughter. “None of the kids want the place, as Camille will tell you. They’ve all got their own complicated lives at the far corners of the country. And I don’t need the money. Hell, you can have the hacienda for a dollar, if you want it. Just say the word. It would make me feel good, knowing that you and Francis and los ninos were enjoying the place. It would keep it in the family.”
Estelle looked down at her hands, and her forehead was wrinkled in a frown. She blinked once or twice and I thought I saw her swallow hard.
“But it’s nothing that needs to be decided overnight,” I added quickly.
She looked at me, and, as usual, I couldn’t read what was deep in those inscrutable dark eyes. “You’ve got horses coming?”
“Well,” I said, waving a hand, “I’ve made a tentative deal. Let me put it that way. It’s not like they’re arriving tomorrow. Probably in the spring, after I’ve had a chance to get this place shipshape.”
“Saddle horses?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’d take a derrick to get me up on a horse now. Workhorses-Percherons.”
“You never mentioned them,” Estelle said, not as a rebuke, but just as a statement of fact.
“It was one of those love-at-first-sight things,” Camille said. “We made the mistake of taking him to a county fair-type October-fest when he was visiting us.”
“You used to drive horses when you were younger, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Much, much, much younger.”
Estelle shook her head slowly, gazing out into the paddock. “That will be a lot of work.”
“It’ll be good for me,” I said. “And when he’s a few years older, I can hire the kid to do all the hard stuff.” By the time little Francis was old enough to do the hard stuff, I reflected, I’d be pushing eighty years old-or perhaps daisies. But it was a nice thought.
Estelle patted my hand again. “I’ll talk with Francis,” she said. “I know he loves your place as much as I do. But I don’t think he’ll change his mind.”
“Change his mind? About what?”
Estelle hesitated for a long moment. “He’s accepted a position at another hospital.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “What, Cruces?” Dr. Guzman had spent a good deal of time driving between Posadas and Las Cruces, doing whatever it was doctors did when sharing hospitals.
“No.” Estelle took a deep breath. “He’s accepted a position at the Mayo Clinic.”
“Mayo? As in Tucson?”
“Rochester, Minnesota.” A heavy silence settled on our little patch of sunshine and adobe.
I didn’t know what to say, so finally I settled for “That’s a hell of an opportunity.”
“Yes, it is. There’s some teaching involved, too. And research.”
I smiled with a great deal more enthusiasm than I felt. In fact, a great black hole was growing in my gut. “It snows up there, you know. Except during the two days of summer.”
“Yes, I know. Francis and Carlos are going to go crazy.”
“They can learn things like ice skating,” I said. “All kinds of cold, bleak, soggy pastimes. Your kitchen floor will always be covered with boots and wet socks.”
Estelle grinned at that.
“When?” I asked, and I didn’t mean it to come out so bleakly.
“His appointment begins June first.”
“Ouch,” I said. “And your mama?”
Estelle shook her head. “Assuming everything goes well, there are dozens of extended- or acute-care facilities in that area.”
“Of course there are, but that’s not what I meant. She’s going to hate it, you know. You’re going to have to be your persuasive best.”
“I’ve got seven months to work on her,” Estelle said. “Who knows. Maybe she’s like you. Maybe she’s ready for an adventure.”
“Maybe,” I said. I stood up and brushed off the seat of my pants. I felt Camille looking at me, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. “We’d better get back,” I said. “Camille, would you go through the house and make sure the front door is locked?” I walked around the side of the house, hands in my pockets, looking like I was examining the structure of the walls.
The truth was that I didn’t want to see the inside of that dreary place.
Chapter 20
Camille was silent on the short drive home, and I was grateful for that. I hadn’t been ready for Estelle’s curveball, and my mind was a wallow of ridiculous thoughts that bordered more on self-pity than anything else.
Estelle had never mentioned the possibility of her physician husband accepting a position elsewhere, but I realized I was foolish to assume that a young, talented surgeon would set his sights on nothing more than a career in Posadas, reaming varicose veins. Somehow, I’d allowed the assumption to grow and flourish in my head that Estelle, Francis, and my two godsons would always be a part of my existence in Posadas.
But goddamn Minnesota? Even before I had pulled into my driveway on Escondido, I had transferred my worry to Estelle. What was she going to do in that bleak, cold, chililess land? I hadn’t asked, either, and that irritated me even more.
I didn’t know anything about the state, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but common sense told me that Minnesota probably had just as many counties as New Mexico, if not dozens more-and each one had a sheriff’s department. And there was the state police, and the city police, and village constables-and any department would jump at the chance to hire an experienced female minority officer who was bilingual, and talented to boot.
“We’ll have to send them care packages full of sand, green chili, and pinon smoke,” I muttered as Camille and I went inside. Standing in the foyer of my rambling home, I realized just how scruffy the Gonzalez place was. My daughter didn’t respond to my lament, heading for the kitchen instead.
I tossed my jacket on the bench by the front door and ambled down the hall, eyes locked on the polished Saltillo tile floor, old and buffed to a gleam like polished saddle leather. In the living room, I found my road atlas and idly turned the pages, pausing here and there without really looking until I landed in Minnesota. The city of Rochester was in the southeast corner. By squinting and shifting my glasses, I could almost read the fine print.
It looked like Olmsted County included the city. I wondered who the Sheriff of Olmsted County was, and if he was a former used-car salesman like Marty Holman. “Posadas, where?” he’d ask, and he probably thought that he would need a visa to visit.