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guest of Madera’s. Or a neighbor?”
    â€œ Guest,” he said in a quiet voice. His eyes were troubled and he looked tired. I didn’t remember ever seeing Caeran look tired.
    â€œ I’m Amanda Richards. I’m here with Len and Caeran.”
    â€œ Len is here?”
    I nodded. “She’s in the kitchen, or she was.”
    He glanced toward the kitchen and nodded absently. Didn’t offer his name.
    Awkward moment of the day number one. He was between me and the bathroom, I was between him and the door to the plazuela . His gaze had fixed on something—or maybe nothing—out in the garden.
    I cleared my throat. “Well, nice meeting you.”
    He looked at me in faint surprise. I answered with a smile and glanced toward the bathroom. He seemed to figure it out finally and took a step backward, then turned and headed away down the portal . He went into the last door before the living room.
    I had to find a better way of talking to these guys. I mean, I had now met, what, five gorgeous men? And not managed to make one of them take an interest in me.
    Well, we’d see about that. I just hadn’t gotten a read on them, that was all. They were different—maybe foreign. Caeran had mentioned Europe a couple of times, come to think of it.
    I smiled to myself. I liked a challenge. Len had her dream guy, why couldn’t I have one too?

= 2 =
    I got my book and went back outside. My mug was now full of steaming tea. I glanced up toward the kitchen with a smile and said, “Thanks,” as if anyone could hear me. Maybe Madera could see me through the window.
    He was a great host. I’d have to write him a thank you note after I went home.
    I settled back into my chair in the garden, wondering idly if I should try for Madera. Or maybe the friendly one. The other three I’d met that morning were standoffish, and the guy I’d just bumped into was preoccupied.
    Len came out and joined me; she’d found a book somewhere. We both sat there reading until the shade receded, then we moved into the portal where there were more chairs, and sat reading until Madera called us into the kitchen for lunch.
    He’d made a wonderful soup with chicken and potatoes and green chile. More of the fresh bread on the side, and iced tea. We sat at the table by the window and Len drove the conversation, telling me things about Madera that I could ask questions about.
    â€œ Know what? Madera made all the carved furniture in the house himself.”
    He shot a glance at Len. “Not all. Some pieces are from clients.”
    â€œ Healing clients?” I said. “You take payment in trade?”
    â€œ That is all that many of them can afford.”
    I nodded. Rural parts of New Mexico were painfully poor. Portales had ENMU, so it had a stable source of employment, but it was also huge compared to Guadalupita.
    Or so I believed. I hadn’t actually seen Guadalupita on the way in, but Len always said it was nothing but a bar and a post office and a couple of houses, and that if it weren’t for Caeran’s cousins, Madera would be lonely.
    That reminded me of the mystery clone I had met. I checked the table—no fourth place setting.
    â€œ Is your other guest not coming to lunch?”
    Len looked up. “Other guest?”
    â€œ Savhoran,” said Madera. He looked at me. “I gather you’ve met him.”
    â€œ Briefly. He didn’t actually tell me his name.”
    â€œ I took him some soup earlier. He is a patient as well as a guest, and spends most of his time in his room.”
    â€œ Still?” Len asked softly.
    Madera nodded, and looked down at his bowl. I wanted to ask what was wrong with Savhoran, but I chickened out.
    â€œ This soup is great,” I said instead.
    â€œ Thank you.”
    We talked about unimportant things for the rest of the meal. I learned a lot about Madera’s numerous talents, and about how he lived out here