“She dropped ours accidentally,” Cal sighed. He glared at her. “Three times in a row.”

“My hands slipped,” she said. “And when the stupid thing couldn’t be fixed, we got a new one that worked just fine and did a much better job. Besides that, you could actually get the cartridges in it without using bad words.”

“She knows a lot of bad words,” Tad interrupted.

She glared at him. “Bad Spanish words that you aren’t supposed to understand.”

“My best friend is from Guatemala,” he returned, “and he taught me all of them.”

She flushed.

“Corrupting an innocent child,” Cal said, clicking his tongue. “For shame.”

“If you arrest her, can I put the handcuffs on?” Tad asked with a grin.

“Bad idea,” Banks told Cal. “You’ll put her in a holding cell and two winos and a prostitute will try to overpower a jailer to get away from her.”

Cal chuckled at Clancey’s look of indignation. He glanced at his watch. “Well, time to go home. Have a good evening.”

“You, too,” Clancey said.

He threw up a hand and walked out the front door.

Banks was curious about the rapport Clancey had with Hollister. He had to admit that he saw no romantic attachment there. Hollister did, indeed, treat her like a little sister.

“Isn’t it early for him to go home?” Banks asked, glancing at his watch.

“He never stays long,” she said. “Actually, the gossip is that he keeps coming in here looking for somebody?”

His eyebrows arched. “Somebody?”

She nodded. “A woman from his past. Apparently she used to come here for the music, too, a long time ago.”

He drew in a breath. “I guess hope springs eternal,” he said, and he was thinking about Grace Charles, who was coming to San Antonio soon.

Clancey knew about Grace. It was painfully obvious that Banks was carrying a torch for her. If only she could convince her heart, stupid organ, that he was committed to someone else.

“Nobody makes flan like they do,” Tad said with a heartfelt sigh as he swallowed the last tiny bite of his dessert.

Clancey grinned as she finished her own. “Nobody in the world,” she agreed.

The band tuned up and started playing again, a lazy two-step. Banks stood up and held out his hand.

“Shall we?” he asked with twinkling black eyes.

“I’ll trip over my feet and put my head through the bass drum, or I’ll knock some poor unsuspecting soul into a bowl of hot soup,” she sighed. “I’m absolutely graceless.”

“Grace can be taught,” he said softly. “We’ll be back, Tad.”

“I’ll watch!” the boy laughed. “The music is just great!”

“It really is,” Clancey said when Banks pulled her onto the dance floor and slid a big, warm hand around her waist. He curled her hand into his and moved lazily to the music. She stumbled once, but he righted her.