She dashed out of the room, leaving me all alone with Elisa.
The girl shoved the curtain aside, a wide smile on her face. “The Virgin?”
“I couldn’t think of anything else.” I glanced at the open door. “You’d better leave before they come back. What was your condition for me to keep the doll?”
Elisa climbed onto the window ledge.
“Make sure you show it to your father.”
After she jumped down, the curtain flowed with the wind after her.
CHAPTER 21
Puri
April 1920
There had to be a more dignified way to find my potential assassin than this. From under Angélica’s bed, I could see two pairs of men’s legs approaching. I hoped the flower quilt on the bed would cover me completely. The men were laughing about something said downstairs, but I couldn’t understand what. They were speaking in French way too fast. One of them was Laurent.
Come on, Laurent, grab whatever it is that you came for and get out already. But the men were in no hurry. They kept talking and laughing. Ramona screeched and her wings flapped.
“Tais-toi!” Laurent said, slamming the cage door. And Ramona inside of it. He’d never been so rough with her in front of Angélica.
The men turned suddenly quiet, their feet in close proximity to each other. Had they heard me? I held my breath.
What were they doing? Didn’t they have a bingo game to go to? Sweat peppered my back and armpits. If I stretched out my arm, I could touch their shoes—that was how close they stood from me. I remembered to breathe, hoping they couldn’t hear me. What was taking so long? I glanced at their feet again.
There was something strange about the way they were standing. They were facing each other. If they’d been a man and a woman, I would’ve sworn they were kissing, close as they were. What else could they be doing? But no, they wouldn’t, would they?
One of them was probably helping the other with his tie or something like that. My mother used to say I had an overactive imagination. There was probably a reasonable explanation for this. Laurent wasn’t that kind of man. He was married to Angélica and he was very flirtatious.
Wait.
He was flirtatious with me, someone he thought to be a man.
And besides, if one of them was fixing the other one’s tie, he would’ve been done already, or they could’ve continued talking. Was I imagining kissing sounds?
After what seemed like hours under the bed, one of the men took a step back.
“We should go back,” he said, this time in Spanish. His voice was low and hoarse and he didn’t have as much of an accent as Laurent.
The two pairs of legs ambled to the door and left the room.
I slid from beneath the bed in a state of shock. What had I just witnessed? Had I imagined things or did Angélica’s husband have a taste for men?
CHAPTER 22
Angélica
Vinces, 1913
“I think you should wear royal blue,” Silvia said. “You can never go wrong with blue. It’s very becoming. More so than pink. Pink is for young girls or people like Catalina.”
I resented my best friend’s disdain when mentioning my sister. I knew Catalina was awkward and not popular among the girls in París Chiquito, but that didn’t mean Silvia had to mock her.
Only I could do that.
“It’s not every day that one turns eighteen,” she said. “You have to do something memorable, something this town has never seen.”
Every time I tried to say something, she would speak again. But that was how Silvia was. Difficult to talk to. She never listened to anyone but herself. And yet, I enjoyed her company more than anybody else’s.
She strolled by my side along my favorite trail. The ground was plastered with torn twigs and fallen leaves, which crunched with every one of my steps. I’d always loved the crisp sounds of the morning: the wind ruffling the towering tree branches, blackbirds and white-tail jays singing, and, if you were lucky enough, you might hear monkey howls coming from the forest. Above my head, a canopy of foliage shrouded the rising sunlight. The familiar scent of moist earth and decomposing vegetation was somewhat placating. I loved this place, particularly these majestic trees flanking the road. In the distance, I could see the hacienda standing proudly among my green Eden. Even though I lived here and took this walk every morning, I never grew tired of looking at my father’s impressive construction.
“Actually,” I said, lifting up my skirt to avoid soiling the hem, “I was thinking about red.”
Silvia stopped sharp and dropped my arm. “You’re joking, right?”
I smiled. I knew all about the Indecency of Red. Even if I wanted a red gown, my mother would’ve never allowed me to wear it. It was scandalous, she would say, and would cancel the party at once. “I’m thinking about white.”
“No. Too chaste.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Do you want to be the center of attention or not? If you wear white, you’ll look muted. That only works for brides.”
“How come you always have an opinion about everything?”
“Because I do. Now, listen to me and have your seamstress make you a blue dress.”
“Fine!”
I was not thrilled with “our” decision but at this point, I would’ve said anything to quiet her. The only reason I let Silvia be so overbearing was because I was grateful that she’d moved to Vinces two years ago. She’d energized the entire town. She came from one of the most affluent families in Guayaquil and was full of opinions about fashion and boys. All the girls had wanted to befriend her and dress like her, but she picked me.
“Now, we have to decide on the flowers.”
Santa María, please make her stop. I quickened my pace as she continued weighing all the pros and cons of every flower in the region. What a relief it was to arrive home! I opened the front door and removed my hat, while Silvia’s incessant chatter buzzed behind me.
“Would you like some lemonade?” I interrupted.