St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

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.
    So Carly enjoyed her late lunch, mentally compiled questions to ask Diana when there was a break in the conversation, and enjoyed the byplay of a man and a woman who were thoroughly pleased to be with each other.
    Not until John gave Carly directions back to the building holding the newspaper archives did she realize that, despite the repeated promise of time for questions later, there hadn’t been a real opportunity to ask Diana about the Taos of her childhood.
    As she drove into town, Carly thought about all that had been said and not said during lunch. Most people were happy to talk about themselves. Diana Duran definitely wasn’t, which made Carly curious.
    Was she an adoption, like me? Is that why she avoids talking about her parents?
    Carly parked in an alley and walked through the old building that housed the newspaper, still thinking about Diana. As she let herself out the back door, she wondered if Dan would talk about his mother’s childhood, or if he would ignore Carly just like his mother. Frowning, she walked over the courtyard’s weedy, frozen earth without noticing the man who stood across the courtyard, waiting for her.
    Motionless, Dan watched her approach the old building. There was grace in her walk and worry in her expression. He wondered what had gone wrong during lunch.
    Damn it, Dad. Why’d you have to take a professional busybody home to Mom?
    Even under the best circumstances, his mother wasn’t exactly outgoing with anyone other than family—unless they were under six. With young kids, she was another person entirely, laughing and giggling and transparent as sunshine.
    “Indigestion?” Dan asked mildly.
    “What?” Carly jumped, startled. She’d almost walked right into him. “No, the food was fabulous. I was just, um, thinking.”
    “And