TROUBLE

"THE TROUBLE with Aunt Rose," Francisca told Bobby on the telephone at the airport, "is that she's never been in love."

"That's real sad," Bobby declared, sounding as if it was the worst news here ever had.

"Or if she has she certainly hasn't talked about it." Which meant it hadn't worked out, Francisca assumed. If there had been any grand passion in her aunt's past then Francisca would have known about it, because she and her aunt were so close. And everyone knew the only happy ending was a walk down the aisle. Besides, why wouldn't any man fall in love with her aunt? she was pretty and smart, though maybe a little on the prudish side.

"How long is she gonna stay?"

"I don't know. I just wanted the two of you to meet each other before..." Francisca hesitated and shifted her cell phone to her other ear. She hasn't said she'd marry him yet. Not until Aunt Roro meet him.

"Before you agree to marry me?" Bobby finished the sentence for her. "Honey, just say yes now and I'll call the justice of the peace out to the ranch and we'll do it up right."

"Soon," she promised. Francisca hadn't thought much beyond wedding itself. She pictured herself changing out of her flowing Victorian-style white gown into jeans and riding a Palomino horse alongside Bobby. Together they would do whatever ranchers did, and they would have picnics and make love on faded quilts in the middle of a prairie covered with wildflowers. "I can't wait to see you."

"Well, honey, you are gonna get your wish this afternoon. I sure have missed you."

"Mmm," she said, thinking of her aunt again. "I don't think Aunt Roro will stay long. She has a beach house on the Cape."

"What Cape?"

"Cape Cod. Massachusetts. It's right on the ocean," Francisca explained, remembering that Texas was a long way from New England. "it might even be a good place for our honeymoon."

Her fantasies switched from quilts on the prairie to swimming naked in the moonlight, the ocean pounding their naked bodies against each other until...

"I'm not much for oceans, Francisca Handel."

Her almost-fiancé cleared his throat self-consciously.

"Truth is, I don't even like boats."

"That's okay. It was just a thought. I'm sure Aunt Roro will head back there right after we-if we get married. 'Adding the *if* silently'. I hate to think of her alone, though. Maybe she will meet someone on the beach this summer."

"It's probably a little late for her now, isn't it?"

"I guess." She sighed. It was all so tragic somehow. Why couldn't everyone be as happy as she and Bobby Calhoun? She was sure her aunt would love him, absolutely positive that everything would work out just perfectly.

Rose rested her head against the blue leather seat of the extra-wide Cadillac and closed her eyes.

Bobby and Franc, chattering in the front seat while the young cowboy drove at death-defying speeds along the empty highway, seemed to have forgotten that weren't alone.

She began to get sleepy, so Roro forced herself to open her eyes to check on her niece. Francisca's perfect, smiling profile faced her cowboy's, Rose's peace of mind. They couldn't take their eyes if each other, Bobby drove with one hand on the wheel because the other stretched along the back of the seat and caressed Francisca's bare shoulder.

Ah, love. Was this how it worked? And would she ever find out herself or was she destined to turn into an old lady, complaining about the younger generation's driving speeds while sitting in the back seat alone? Well, not alone, exactly. Pookie sat snuggled beside her, in his typical state of contentment with wherever he happened to be, pretty mild company for a thirty-year-old chaperone relegated to the tail end of a car the size of a dining room.

No one warned her that the ranch was hours away from the Dallas-Fort Worth airport. Francisca's cowboy had been handsome and young and enthusiastic, although he seemed surprised when Francisca introduced her to him. He'd mumbled something neither woman could hear, but he'd hurried to remove his Stetson, then shook her hand with gusto, and a big grin spread across his face.

Rose figured that if he'd known that Aunt Roro meant to take still-single Francisca home to New England as soon as humanly possible, he probably wouldn't have looked so pleased.

"Are we there yet?" Francisca sounded as excited as a five-year-old.

"Yep, almost." The car picked up speed, making Rose grip the door handle with one hand Pookie with the other.

"Mr Calhoun?" she called.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"If you going to drive at the speed of light, would you mind putting both hands on the steering wheel?"

"Yes, ma'am,"he said, hurrying to move his arm.

"I mean,no ma'am, I don't mind at all." He dared to glance behind him, to give Rose what he obviously thought was a manly, reassuring look.

"And please keep your eyes on the road," Rose said, in her most pleasant I-mean-business voice. It was the voice that halted rebellious teenagers in their tracks, and she knew it's power.

What she didn't know was how she was going to get back to the airport on Monday, but hijacking the Cadillac and driving it herself was not out of the realm of possibility. Pookie licked her hand, so she scratched his ears and watched him stretch with delight.

"We work hard and drive fast," she heard Bobby tell her niece. "I guess it takes some getting used to if you are not from around here."

"I will get used to it, Francisca promised, and Rose wondered if it would be possible to be on the be on Tuesday as if this visit to Texas had never happened. Which book would she read first-the new Sandra Brown or the latest Jeffrey Deaver? She would buy some rum for frozen daiquiris and she would invite the couple next door over for dinner one night next weekend. Rose closed her eyes and pretended she was in her chaise longue facing the ocean and didn't wake up until the car jolted to a stop.

"This is it, honey," Bobby said, and Rose opened her eyes to see her niece being kissed. it was a brief embrace, however, because a giant brown dog leaped at the window and barked at Bobby, who immediately released Francisca. "Hey, Gus?"

"Bobby?" Francisca put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, honey," the cowboy said, opening the car door. "Get back, Gus you scaring the ladies, dammit!"

Rose gripped Pookie a little tighter, determined to take care of everybody she'd inherited, even a six-pound bundle of hair. Her scatterbrained niece wouldn't last long here in 'Gunsmoke' country and Rose didn't intend to let the child make another crazy mistake.

HE WOULDN'T be human of he wasn't curious. Or so Andrew told himself, heading toward the house right after he'd seen the car along the road, dust billowing out from the tires as Bobby sped home with his intended bride.

No, Andrew thought, slapping the dirt off his work gloves by hitting them on a fence post. It was time to meet this young lady, time to make a good impression on her aunt, time to pray that this would all work out and he, Andrew, could move into his own home, on his own ranch, and start living his own life. He would be the best damn escort in Texas, if that's what it took.

He was with thirty yards of the when he saw Bobby introducing Gus to a fair-haired young woman he guessed was the Marti girl.

*****

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