“I know a woman who is fantastic with stage lighting and special effects,” Fernanda said. “She could handle the technical side.”
“Maybe she could project images of our lilies and dragons on the outside of the concert venues. That would highlight our natural heritage as well,” Raul interjected.
Paris. Lilies. Quinn let the conversation flow around her as connections with Caleva clicked in her head. Gabriel’s mother negotiated the exclusive lily sap contract with the French cosmetics firm run by Odette Fontaine which was headquartered in Paris. That’s why the duchess went to Paris on a regular basis. Quinn needed to find out more about who Hélène saw in the City of Light.
Maybe she could bring it up at that lunch Gabriel’s mother wanted to plan. That might keep the conversation about Quinn and Gabriel’s relationship to a minimum. She grimaced at her plate as the lines between her personal and professional life blurred again.
“Gabriel, would you be interested in a historical component to your festival?” Lorenzo asked. “We have some interesting musical manuscripts in the archives. Perhaps an exhibit of the most significant ones?”
Quinn could tell that the duke was trying to make a connection with his son, so she poked Gabriel’s ankle with her toe in admonition.
“Thank you, Father,” Gabriel said. “That would add cultural context to our performances.”
“Perhaps you would review them with me,” Lorenzo said. “You could select the ones you feel would be most relevant.”
Another olive branch. Quinn gave Gabriel a tiny nudge of encouragement with her elbow.
“I would be happy to do so,” Gabriel said. “I have not visited the archives in too long.”
The conversation was stiff, but Quinn was pleased with the outcome. Gabriel’s father wasn’t the ogre she had expected.
“I’ll bet more than one musician will come for the festival and decide to stay awhile,” Fernanda interjected. “The beaches are irresistible.”
“And the vaho hibiscus,” Quinn added, deciding that Gabriel needed a break from his father’s attention. “They smell like heaven.”
“What about the seafood?” Raul interjected. “So fresh it’s practically still swimming.”
Everyone chimed in with their ideas about what made Caleva great. Luis mentioned the clean air, courtesy of the island’s geothermal power. Quinn smiled. It was exactly what a king would care about, while everyone else focused on more superficial attractions.
“Our dragons,” Lorenzo said, pronouncing it almost in Spanish. “They are unique and spectacular.”
“But it’s so rare to see one,” Fernanda pointed out. “We need more of them.”
“I’m working on that,” Raul said with a glance at his father. “I’ve contacted several herpetologists about breeding programs. Like Gabriel, I need to lure some outside experts here to Caleva.”
It seemed that the distinction between family and work conversation was blurred. Or maybe because Quinn was there, they were keeping topics general so she could participate.
A server whisked away Quinn’s dinner plate and wineglass. She almost protested the loss of the wine before she noticed another stemmed glass remained at her place. A server filled it with a pale golden wine. Of course they would change the wine to suit the course.
The procession of servers swarmed around the table, placing plates of pie and ice cream in front of the diners.
Apple pie.
Quinn looked up in surprise to see the king watching her once again. An impish amusement sparkled in his eyes. “In your honor, señorita,” he said.
She saw where Raul got his charm, except it was even more potent in its mature, regal form.
Then it dawned on her. The entire dinner had been an all-American menu.
“Gracias, Su Majestad,” she managed to say. “You honor me.”
He smiled and picked up his fork to plunge it into his slice of pie. “Not at all. It also happens to be a favorite of mine.”
She felt herself slipping under Luis’s spell again, except this time she didn’t want to ride into battle for him. She wanted to fall on her knees and thank him for his attention.
Of course, the pie was the best she’d ever tasted, with a crust so buttery and flaky she wanted to roll around in it. Add to that the rich depths of the vanilla ice cream a server scooped onto her plate, and she nearly had a food orgasm.
She wasn’t the only person who appreciated the dessert because the conversation grew desultory for the first couple of minutes as everyone dug into the dessert.