Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

account to buy a few months’ worth of diapers. Her checking account was essentially empty, being worn down month after month by her family’s needs, including the kids’ doctors’ bills.
    Marian had been in tears when she’d told Gwen the truth. If she lost her house, she feared her children would be taken away from her. She had nowhere else to go. Gwen’s sparse two-bedroom could scarcely hold them all, not for any length of time, at least. And their mom, having long ago been placed in the memory-care unit of a retirement home, was far from being able to help. She barely scraped by on Social Security and most days didn’t recognize either of her daughters, besides.
    If Marian could just hang on one more year until the twins were in school, she thought she could make it. With only the new baby to place in daycare, she’d be able to work full-time. That would give her benefits like a retirement pension and health insurance. She’d be better able to meet her kids’ medical expenses as well as plan for her own future. As it stood, she had six months of back mortgage to pay and another twelve months’ obligation to look forward to. She was overwhelmed and in pieces, unsure of what to do. Taking Tom to court wasn’t an option. Marian didn’t have the financial resources, and even if she did, it would be hard squeezing blood from a stone. Tom was on and off the bottle and in and out of work. She couldn’t rely on him now any more than she had during their marriage.
    It was a dire and depressing situation. Gwen had thought for weeks about what she might do to help her sister. The trouble was Gwen was in financial strife herself. Robert had been so furious at her for kicking him out, he’d run up over ten thousand dollars in credit-card debt on purpose. The pro bono women’s shelter attorney Gwen consulted said there was nothing Gwen could do about Robert maxing out the account jointly held in their names. Gwen was unfortunately just as liable for half of his debts as entitled to half of his earnings. Good luck with that. Robert, a successful production assistant with a Hollywood company providing East Coast sets, had found plenty of loopholes in which to stash his cash. Gwen twisted the simple wedding band once, realizing her cheeks were damp.
    She finished off her chardonnay, more determined than ever to sell those canvases and at the best possible price. She’d started small with a few local juried art shows around town, then had dared to put a modest portfolio of slides together and began sending it out. Holbrook and Holstein in Santa Fe had been her first real nibble. In effect, it had been a really big bite. Top dollar for her work, plus the cost of round-trip air tickets and accommodations to boot. Holbrook probably thought that Gwen was being greedy, trying to barter up the price for her own gain. Nothing could be further from the truth. Marian’s kids needed their mama, and Gwen needed to help her baby sister. One way or another, Gwen was going to see this through. Dan Holbrook could think anything about her that he liked. She’d never see him again after tomorrow anyway.

Chapter Two

    When Dan got to La Cantina, Gwen had already arrived. He spied her seated at a table for two in the large atrium styled like a Spanish courtyard and decorated in colorful tile. She studied the menu as he approached, a white peasant blouse sweeping her shoulders, hair pinned up in a casual way that offset her cheekbones and fair complexion. Dan had to stop walking and catch his breath. She was truly a beautiful woman, even more beautiful than he’d given her credit for yesterday at the gallery. Then again, yesterday at the gallery, she’d appeared primed to bite his head off. Today, she just looked hungry.
    “Can I help you find a table, sir?” a tall waiter in a waistcoat inquired.
    “Thanks, I see where I’m going,” Dan said, shaking the reverie. Hearing their exchange, Gwen looked up at him and smiled. He felt a little twist in his gut and realized this was worse than he thought. Dan smiled back pleasantly, determined to pull himself together. He envisioned a large Weber grill, coals searing beneath its grate, and suddenly felt driven to thirst.
    He joined Gwen at the table, exchanged pleasantries, then took a long drag of water from the glass that had been provided at his place. She eyed him curiously as he drained it all.
    “It’s murder out there,” he said, referencing the weather.
    “Certainly