Cinderella in Overalls

chapter Five



A more unlikely group never stood at the entrance to the International Bank of La Luz, Catherine thought. They chattered nervously. They tapped their feet on the marble steps. They giggled at the sight of secretaries in tight skirts and high heels. They were only a few miles from the Rodriguez Market, but the street where the bank was located was in another world of trees and flowers and monuments. On Friday morning it was filled with traffic and people on their way to work.

With one last word of encouragement to the women Catherine pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped inside. The women fell silent. Suddenly she regretted her decision to wear her peasant clothes. She felt as out of place as they must feel in this high-ceilinged lobby with its marble floor. She wiped her palms on her skirt and told a man behind a desk that she wanted to see Mr. Bentley. He gave her a doubtful look but picked up the phone.

By the time Josh reached the lobby, Catherine had convinced herself she’d dreamed the whole thing. The kiss, the loan and the truck. But when she saw him their eyes locked and held. And the unspoken message calmed her nerves and soothed her psyche. Yes, I remember, he telegraphed across the room, and she felt the heat rise to her face.

She smiled at Josh. He smiled at the women. It was a beautiful day. It was an historic day. They went to a room where they heard a man explain the loan process, slowly and clearly with pictures, in Spanish and in Mamara. The women leaned forward, hanging on every word.

Catherine’s eyes glazed over with joy. They were beginning a new era. She stood at the back of the room, too choked up to speak.

Josh pressed his shoulder against hers. “Do you think it will work?”

“It has to,” she said under her breath.

After the session, the women went back to the market and Catherine stayed behind to look at the repossessed trucks parked behind the bank in a parking lot. She gave Josh her hat to hold while she raced the engines, pounded the tires and tested the brakes.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at him from the driver’s seat. “I hate to think of our profiting from someone else’s loss.”

He opened the door and held out his hand to help her down. “The somebody elses were drug dealers, if that makes you feel any better. The government confiscated their houses, their cars and their jewels. We got their trucks before they even got a chance to use them.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” She didn’t allow herself to think of where this truck might end up if they had to default on their loan.

“This one?” he asked.

“This one,” she said firmly. “I can’t wait for them to see it. I can’t wait to drive it.”

They walked back to the bank. “You’re not afraid?”

“Afraid? I’ve been driving tractors bigger than this since I was fourteen years old.”

He held the door open for her. He liked the way her chin tilted up. He admired the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited and he enjoyed the pleasure the truck brought her. If the whole thing failed and he wound up behind a loan officer’s desk in Boston, he’d remember her eyes, warm and soft or dancing with delight. But in the meantime... They stood on the wide front steps.

The sun was directly overhead. A shoeshine boy appeared from nowhere and approached Josh. He shook his head absently and looked at his watch. “What about lunch?”

She shook her head. “I’ve already missed a half day of work. I’m terrible at bargaining, but I’m useful in other ways.”

A smile stole over his face. “I’m sure you are.”

She looked down at her dusty shoes, then back to meet his gaze. “When can we have the truck? Today?”

“If I stay late and work on the papers. Do you have a license to drive it here?”

“I got one when I arrived, just in case. I’ll send the women home with Tomás. Next week they’ll apply for their permits. When should I come back?”

He set her hat firmly on her head and let his fingers trail across her smooth cheek to her chin. “Soon.”

She nodded and then she was gone, down the steps on rope-soled shoes before he could give her money for a taxi. He started after her, but she disappeared into the lunchtime crowd. The sun shone just as brightly after she was gone, and the air was just as warm. But there was something missing. Catherine.

She was interfering with his work. She was disturbing his sleep. He wanted her around all the time, but that wasn’t possible. The next thing he knew she’d talk him into going to the mine or borrowing more money for something else.

She came at five o’clock. He was pacing back and forth when she walked through the door. He told her the license was ready, but the ownership papers weren’t processed yet. They could check back later. What he didn’t tell her was that even when the papers were ready he wasn’t going to let her drive home alone in the dark, no matter how much experience she’d had with trucks and tractors.

She nodded and he looked around. Customers were still waiting for tellers. Bank officials were in deep discussions with important clients behind closed doors. Banks and stores stayed open until 7:00. Josh usually worked late. But not tonight. Not with Catherine standing there with one braid over her shoulder, her face tilted up to his, her expression hopeful and expectant. He had a wild desire to grab her arm, run out the front door and get lost in the bustling, vibrant city out there.

He did the next best thing. He led her firmly out the door with his hand on her elbow.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I don’t know. You know the city better than I do Take me somewhere I haven’t been before. That won’t be hard. I haven’t been anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” Her eyes sparkled and her lips curved in an enticing smile.

A rush of dizziness engulfed him, and he steadied himself by holding her arms. After weeks of living and working within a four-block radius, he had a desire to expand his horizon. “Anywhere,” he said.

They started down the avenue, past galleries filled with silver, pewter and antiques. They mingled with shoppers, workers and Indians dressed like Catherine and bureaucrats dressed like Josh. The sun was setting on the flatlands that surrounded the city, and a cool wind threatened to send Catherine’s hat flying. In front of the San Francisco Church at the end of the street, he stopped to take it off her head and smooth her hair. He longed to loosen the braid, to feel the masses of dark hair in his hands.

The stone-carved statue of Saint Francis in front of the church smiled benevolently, but they didn’t linger. Catherine took his hand and led him around the corner down an alley lined with small, elegant shops. In front of a store crammed with soft leather goods she paused.

“Have you ever been to a peña?” she asked.

He turned her hat on the palm of his hand. “I don’t think so. What is it?”

“An open-air restaurant with typical food and folk music. You’ve been in La Luz for a month and nobody’s taken you to a peña?” she asked incredulously.

“Nobody’s taken me anywhere... except to the Rodriguez Market. They told me I could find everything I needed there. They were right.’’ He gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. She folded her arms across her waist. Deliberately she tilted her head and surveyed his suit jacket. Her gaze lingered on his vest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It gets cold at the peña after the sun sets. You need a sweater.”

He opened the door for her to the brightly lighted shop, and they breathed deeply of the warm, earthy smell of leather.

“What about a jacket?”

“You’d buy a leather jacket just like that?”

“I need a leather jacket. I’ve always needed one. I just didn’t know it until now.”

Hearing this, an attentive clerk slipped up behind him and helped him remove his suit coat. His vest came off next. The first jacket he tried on was brown with wide shoulders and tucked in around the waist. It made him look like a World War One flying ace.

Catherine couldn’t stop staring. Where was the conservative banker, the one who ate at the same restaurant every night? She warned herself he was still there, just a breath away, under a layer of leather. But here was a man who was buying himself a jacket so he could go to a new restaurant. Here was a man who was taking a chance on a group of poor women on the strength of his intuition and her recommendation.

In a momentary panic she wondered what she’d started the day she had barged her way into his office. But it had begun before that. On the day he had walked up to her with mangoes in his hand and refused to bargain.

He was watching her face. “What’s wrong? Is it too casual?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t trust her voice. It was the warmth of the shop, the rich smell of leather, not the overwhelming desire to touch the jacket, to slide her hands inside and run her palms over the soft cotton of his button-down shirt across the flat planes of his chest, she told herself. He was waiting for her to answer.

“No, it’s fine, but...” She pulled him aside. “You can’t bargain here. The prices are fixed,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back, his lips brushing her ear. While the clerk wrapped up his suit coat and vest he noticed a rack of leather belts, and examined the workmanship. “Do you think Old Pedro would like one of these?” he asked Catherine.

She ran her fingers over the thick cowhide and looked up inquiringly.

“I saw he carried his tools in his pockets,” Josh said. “There’s a pouch for his tape measure and loops for his tin snips.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, she nodded. “Yes, I think he’d like it.”

He told the clerk to add the belt to his bill. After he paid, they left the shop and headed toward the Peña Murilla.

“Is it just a thank-you present?” Catherine asked, her hair loosened by the wind, curling in tendrils around her face. “Or were you thinking of asking him again to take you to the mine?”

He took her arm unconsciously and gripped it tightly. “I know there’s nothing there. But maybe I should try to go, anyway. Does that make sense?”

She nodded and her heart lifted. She didn’t say anything, but maybe the man was coming to grips with his heritage, after all.

Heads turned as they walked, for a second look at the tall man in the brown leather jacket and the beautiful hatless Mamara Indian woman at his side who walked with such easy confidence. Her braid was tossed to one side, her skirts were blown to show her ankles, and the wind had whipped color into her cheeks.

At the end of the street they opened a gate to the Peña Murillo. Under an arbor they sat next to each other at a long table lined with people where the food was served family style. Catherine passed platter after platter of stuffed pastries to the end of the table. She noticed that Josh ate everything that came his way. So far the peña was a success.

He set his fork down. “Did you notice that the people across from us are staring, wondering why someone who looks like you is with someone who looks like me?”

“You’re imagining things. People are here to eat and listen to the music. Besides you look fine.”

He grinned. “You look fine, too. Very fine.”

His blue eyes met her dark, long-lashed eyes, and from somewhere far away the faint sound of a wooden Indian flute came floating through the air. She wanted to turn to watch the musicians approach, but she was trapped in a trance, bound by Josh on one side and the haunting melody on the other.

She had heard this music before, but never had it touched her so deeply with its melancholy sweetness. When the flutist stopped, the spell was broken. Josh put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her close to him.

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” he whispered.

His breath was warm on her lips. The lights were dim. “There’s more,” she promised.

There was a many-stringed cousin to the guitar that sounded more mellow and softer than anything she’d ever heard, and after that a carved-out gourd sent out primitive vibrations through the air, filling her with a sweet sadness. Her fingers gripped Josh’s tightly, and from the pressure she knew he felt as she did.

When it was over, they sat without clapping, still holding hands. In a daze they moved to the exit and stood on the street again, gazing at the moon casting its silver glow on snowcapped Teregape. It took a few minutes for Catherine to return to reality.

Josh spoke first. “You told me it was a restaurant. You didn’t tell me it was an out-of-body experience.”

“It isn’t. I mean, it never was before. Everything was different tonight.” She looked around the empty alley. “We’ve got to go. I have to get home. Can I get my truck now?”

“No.”

“No? You said we’d check back later. You said your secretary was working on it.’’

“She was, but she isn’t anymore. She’s gone home. It’s too late for you to drive home alone on that road.”

The blood rushed to her head. “I told you I’ve driven trucks like that since...”

“Since you were fourteen years old. I know. But not tonight. Tonight I’m driving you home.”

She glared at him. “I suppose I ought to thank you. But I don’t feel much like it.”

He took her firmly by the elbow. “I understand. Naturally you’re disappointed.’’

“You could say that.”

They walked briskly in the direction of the bank. “You’ve gotten along for eighteen months without a truck. You can wait until tomorrow.”

“We don’t come to town until Thursday.”

“Okay, Thursday.”

“I should have waited for the transfer papers. I should never have left the bank without our truck. Is it our truck, or not?”

“Not. The bank holds the papers until the loan is paid off.” He looked at his watch. “That’ll be in about ten years. Until then I have to protect the bank’s interests. I don’t want the truck going off the road in the middle of the night before you’ve even made the first payment.”

They stopped abruptly in front of the bank, and she waited while he went to get his car from the parking lot. She paced back and forth, seething in anger. Her fingers itched to hold the steering wheel of the truck. She’d planned to drive up in front of Jacinda’s house in the morning and watch the children come running from all over the neighborhood. He didn’t trust her to get the truck back in the dark. He didn’t believe she was capable enough. But she was. She’d show him.

Josh drove out of the lot and around the front of the bank to pick her up. He could see by the set of her shoulders how angry she was, but he didn’t care. It was better to endure her resentment than to lie awake all night wondering if she’d made it back to Palomar. He reached across to fasten her seat belt. His arm grazed the tips of her breasts. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. Suddenly he thought of the music and the vibrations from the instruments humming in the night air and the feeling of her hand in his, and he wished he hadn’t spoiled the mood. But he’d had no choice. He could tell by her icy silence that he’d convinced her that his first concern was the truck. Now if only he could convince himself of that.

Where had he gone wrong? When had this ceased to be a business transaction and become a personal matter? Was it the first day at the farm riding behind her on the horse with the warm sun shining on her hair? No, it was before that. It was that day in the market when he stood in front of her and paid too much for the mangoes. Since the first moment he’d seen her she’d had that effect on him. Of undermining his better judgment.

If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have made this risky loan. His dream of finding the silver mine would have remained a dream. His private dream. There was something about her that caused him to do things he had no business doing. What was it? Her earthy sensuality? Her idealism? Her relentless optimism?

He glanced sideways at her profile. The purity of the outline of her cheek touched him somewhere deep within himself and resolutely he turned his attention back to the road ahead. From now on he would keep his dreams to himself, his loans to a minimum and his mind on his work.

An evening like this, of music and vibrations and the nearness of Catherine, was enough to pull him off course, to distract him from his goals. He was here to do a job, to help this country and to help himself rise to the top of his profession. He wouldn’t be led astray as his father was by romantic dreams of riches buried in the ground. There were riches to be had, yes, but they came from years of hard work.

Catherine didn’t sleep on the way home. It hurt to realize how little confidence Josh had in her, both in her ability to drive and her ability to pay back the loan. Well, she’d show him. They’d work so hard they’d pay off the loan in five years. Of course, she wouldn’t be around in five years, but she’d be sure they were well on their way by the time she left. If it was the last thing she did. It just might be.

When they reached her little house, she gave him a curt goodbye and a reminder they’d be in Thursday for the truck. Catherine felt guilty for treating him rudely, but her pride wouldn’t let her relent.

The next day she told the women about the truck. They were excited, but not as excited as they were about Doña Blanca’s daughter’s engagement to Jacinda’s youngest son. The young man had come home from the mines over the weekend with a month’s salary in one hand and a ring in the other. Jacinda was pleased with the dowry and quickly gave her blessing, perhaps partly because the bride was already three months pregnant.

“Yes,” she said to Catherine as she lingered in the doorway to Catherine’s kitchen the next morning. “I am well pleased. Not as pleased as I will be when we celebrate your wedding, but pleased all the same.”

Catherine looked up over the pot of boiling water she was sterilizing jam jars in and gave Jacinda a stern look. “I know you consider me an old maid, and I suppose you’re not the only one. But there are other things to do in this day and age besides getting married. For myself I’ve chosen to use my knowledge to help people like yourself improve their farming methods. After I leave Palomar at the end of the two years, I’ll go on to another country, another valley, another farm. Surely you can see there’s no room for a man in my life.”

“What about Señor Bentley?” the older woman asked.

“What about him? Are you suggesting he accompany me on my travels? He’s our banker, that’s all,” she said so emphatically that Jacinda took a step backward. “I’m only interested in the money he’s loaning us, and he’s only interested in making sure we make our payments.”

Jacinda bobbed her head. “I know. I know. Did I not hear all about it in the bank yesterday? Payments and interest and credit and notes until my head was spinning.”

Catherine frowned. “I hope you paid attention. Because if we miss one payment, the truck goes back to the bank. We don’t really own it until we make all of our payments.”

“With the little stubs from the little book. I remember,” Jacinda assured her.

Catherine nodded. She had been paying attention. They all had. She felt a pang of guilt for treating Jacinda like a child. For talking down to her just as Josh had done to her. And for talking business when Jacinda wanted to talk weddings. But she had a splitting headache. Farm girls who stayed up late paid a price the next day, but she had no right to take out her anger toward Josh on Jacinda.

She poured two cups of tea from the kettle on the stove and motioned for her old friend to sit down. “Where will they live?” she asked.

Jacinda spooned a dollop of honey into her tea. “Since Juan Carlos works in the mines, Magdalena will continue to live at home until the baby comes. Then they will have to find a home of their own.” She sipped her tea. “We have much to do in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Catherine set her cup down with a thud.

Jacinda nodded. “Clothes to be made. Food to be cooked. You have never seen a village wedding with a piñata and a whole roasted lamb and dancing. Mr. Bentley has never seen such a wedding, either, I suppose.”

“Mr. Bentley? I don’t think Mr. Bentley is interested in weddings,” she said, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Jacinda took Catherine’s cup and stared into the leaves at the bottom. “Perhaps not,” she murmured, “but I know Blanca will invite him all the same. Sometimes men surprise you.”

Catherine had to agree with that. Just when you thought men were sweet, sensitive and kind, they turned out to be devious and self-centered.

Jacinda tilted the teacup and grasped Catherine’s arm. “This is truly amazing,” she said breathlessly. “Just as we speak of marriage I see something about it in your tea leaves.”

“Really?” Catherine suppressed a smile. “What is it?”

“A village wedding. But the bride is not Magdalena. The bride is you. In a flowing white gown with a veil. You are smiling and saying, “Thank you, Jacinda.’”

“And who might the groom be?” Catherine asked innocently.

Jacinda shrugged. “I cannot see his face, but he is very rich. He showers you with silver coins.”

“Silver? How delightful,” Catherine enthused. Then deliberately she reached across the table for Jacinda’s cup and studied the leaves at the bottom. “What have we here? What I see in your future is a big white truck with you riding next to me in front with all your friends from the market looking on enviously. It will happen soon, very soon.”

Jacinda met Catherine’s eyes and said no more about Catherine’s wedding. Catherine told her that on Thursday they would surely leave town in their truck. Or rather the bank’s truck. She and the women would all go in together to pick it up. She knew Josh would have to come through. He couldn’t take twenty women home in his car. And he couldn’t invite twenty women to dinner at Restaurante Roberto.

He couldn’t distract twenty women by wearing a leather jacket, either, or showering them with attention. It would be all business. That was the way he wanted it and that was the way it would be. Sign the transfer of sale, get in the truck and come home.

But on Thursday, as they waited in the cool, high-ceilinged lobby of the bank, she didn’t feel quite so calm. She wiped her palms on her shawl and tried not to look anxious. She saw him before he saw her, but not by much. Just enough time to notice he was wearing a gray suit with pinstripes that fit his lanky body without a wrinkle. Just enough to take a deep breath, but not enough time to stop her knees from shaking under her layered skirts.

Josh knew she’d been angry when she got out of his car and coolly wished him a safe trip back to town, but he didn’t expect it to last, and he didn’t expect to be hurt by her cool, distant air as they put their signatures to the loan agreement and the transfer of sale. He was sure now she had no interest in him except for the loan. Since that was what he wanted, he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. He tried to take her aside to talk to her, but the women were always there, separating him from her as if she’d arranged it that way. They thanked him and shook his hand, all of them, except Catherine.

Before he had a chance to speak to her they were in the parking lot, piling into the long bed of the truck with their empty burlap sacks, Jacinda and Doña Blanca next to Catherine in the cab. He told her to drive carefully. He wanted to warn her about taking the curves too fast, but he remembered her telling him not to treat her like a child, and he bit his tongue.

He stood in the lot and watched them drive away, the women squealing with delight. In the rearview mirror he caught her eye, and just for a split second she flashed a triumphant smile that said it all. They had their truck and nothing could stop them now.

He thought of her driving on those mountain roads in the dusk and he broke out in a cold sweat. It was one thing to try out the truck in the parting lot, but the thought of her on the rough two-lane road scared the hell out of him.

The next three days were more hell. He had no way of knowing if they’d arrived home or if they’d make it back to town. On Monday morning at dawn he was standing on a rough cobblestone street keeping company with stray dogs and city police in green uniforms who were clearing the road for the trucks arriving from the valleys below.

Finally they came, swaying from side to side like all the other trucks, laden with crates. He felt a knot of tension dissolve in his chest. Of course they weren’t like all the other peasants. They were in their own truck with their own driver. Leaning over the edge of the wooden slats that held the produce in place, they called to him.

“Señor Bentley. Look, look at us,” they yelled in Spanish.

A smile spread cross his face. He waved to them and they waved back. He watched them unload. They patted the sides of the truck proudly with the palms of their hands when they passed. He picked up a sack of lettuce and fell into step beside Catherine.

“Any problems?” he asked in a carefully casual voice.

“No.” She quickened her pace, but if she thought she’d lose him, she was wrong. “Your truck is in perfect shape, so you can stop worrying.’’

“I’m not worried about the truck. I’m worried about you.” The words came out in spite of himself.

She slanted him a cool glance. “Well, you can stop worrying about me. I’m an excellent driver.”

“I’m sure you are.” He lowered the sack of lettuce behind the stall. She set her sack next to his and put her hands on her hips. Jacinda stepped between Catherine and Josh and began unpacking her peppers as if she was unaware of any tension in the air.

“Señor Bentley,” she said with a wide smile, “my son is getting married on the last day of the month. Blanca has asked me to invite you to the wedding, since it is her daughter who is marrying my son.”

Josh looked puzzled. He caught a few words, but missed most of it. Jacinda tugged at Catherine’s sleeve. “Tell him what I said.”

Catherine repeated the message, then added her own words. “Don’t feel obligated to come. I told her you’re a very busy person.”

Josh looked over her head at Jacinda. “I would like to come,” he said slowly in Spanish. “Very much.”

Jacinda nudged Catherine in the ribs, then danced away to tell the others. Without Jacinda as a buffer they stood looking at each other in awkward silence. Finally Catherine spoke. “The women are so excited about the wedding. They have a lot of sewing and baking to do. On the other hand, the tomatoes are ripe.”

“Can I help?” he offered.

“Pick tomatoes? I doubt it.”

“When they come into the bank tonight to make their deposit, I’ll give them a pep talk. There’s a lot riding on their success. If it works...”

“You’ll get your promotion.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. The implication of self-interest was unmistakable and hurt him as if she’d stabbed him with a knife. He took her by the shoulders and held her while the women around them froze, watching the scene with wide-eyed fascination.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “I made this loan against my better judgment. But I want it to succeed as much for your sakes as for mine. If it does, they can go on to make a business out of farming, not just subsistence. If they have a business, the men might be able to come home from the mines and work the land with them. Who knows? Maybe they could dam up the river and make a mill.” His blue eyes blazed.

There was complete silence in the stall when he finished talking. Everyone had their eyes on Josh, straining to understand why he was so angry with their beautiful, good-natured Catherine. Only Catherine knew, and her cheeks burned. But he wasn’t finished yet.

“I don’t know what kind of bankers you’ve dealt with in the past, but I think I should be judged on my own merits or faults. I gave you the loan because I believed in you, whether I was right or wrong. It may not be the smartest thing I ever did, but I did it and I’m going to do everything I can to make it work out for you.

“But it isn’t going to work if you’re going to resist every time I try to help you. Yes, I want you to be successful and pay it off. Sure that will make me look good. But it will make the villagers look even better, and then they can go on to bigger things. But to make it work we need each other, you, me and them.” He let her go, but she could feel the pressure of his fingers on her skin after he went up the street, out of the market and back to the bank.

Without speaking she unloaded a crate of melons with trembling fingers. The other women followed her example, and soon they were laughing, arguing and bargaining as they did every day. Jacinda’s eyes were full of questions, but she confined her conversation with Catherine to the number of sheep in the dowry and the color of her dress.

Catherine answered calmly, but underneath she was a torrent of emotions. She was ashamed of herself. She knew that deep down Josh wasn’t only interested in his career. He’d pretended to be, but he wasn’t. He’d even made plans for the farm. Far beyond what she’d ever dreamed of. She wished she didn’t have to see him at the end of the day. She knew she ought to apologize, but she dreaded it.

At dusk they counted their money. They packed their goods in the truck and spread burlap over the crates. The women were excited. It had been a good day. For making money, but not for making friends, Catherine thought. They walked to the bank, the cash tied in cloth sacks deep in their pockets. Josh was waiting for them. She let the women go first. They spread out the money on the counter and counted it in front of him.

They were doing it all without her, and they were proud of themselves. They should be. For the first time there was no driver to pay off at the end of the day. The women were going to a conference room with a big blackboard and a man who spoke Mamara. They each had a deposit slip in hand. It was their second lesson, and this time it was for real. They had real money and they would make a real deposit. Catherine turned to share the moment with Josh, but he wasn’t there.

Maybe he was called away to speak to another client. She thought of going to the receptionist and asking to speak to him, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ready. But she was ready on the next trip. She’d had time to memorize her speech.

“You were right,” she’d say. “There was no reason to drive home in the middle of the night. I was so excited about the truck I wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank you for taking me to dinner and thank you for wanting to help us.”

Then they would shake hands and it would clear the air. Then the potatoes would start growing again and the berries would ripen on schedule and everything would be right with the world. But he wasn’t there. The other man who was handling their account was there and spoke to them. Catherine looked around the lobby from the telephone to the receptionist, but she left without asking for Josh.

When he didn’t appear on the next two market days, Jacinda took time out from wedding talk to broach the subject with Catherine on the way home.

“I have not seen Señor Bentley lately,” she said casually. “Not since the day you and he exchanged sharp words in the stall.”

“Really?” Catherine’s tone was light, but her knuckles were white as her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Yes, really,” Jacinda answered firmly. “Have you?”

Catherine wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “I don’t think so”

Jacinda watched her negotiate a steep turn. “You know what we say in Spanish.”

Catherine braced herself for a barrage of wise sayings that Jacinda kept on hand for every occasion. “What’s that?”

“A woman without a man is like a garden without a fence.”

Catherine shifted as she headed down a steep grade. “Who needs a fence? Not me. If ever I find a man, it will be one who doesn’t fence me in. And what about you? You’re not fenced in.”

Jacinda clicked her tongue. “We are discussing your life, not mine. Mine is nearly over. Yours is just beginning. Now I heard that in your country you do not use a matchmaker. You marry for love, and yet so many divorces! My girls are all well married, and now my last son is about to become a husband and a father, all thanks to my help. And I will not rest until I have done the same for you.”

Catherine sighed. “Jacinda, I appreciate what you want to do, but-”

The old woman put her hand on Catherine’s arm. “Do not thank me until your engagement is announced.”

“But I told you-”

“That he was not interested in weddings, but you were wrong. He is coming to the wedding. That is a good sign.”

“I think I told you I was only interested in the money he could lend us,” Catherine said gently.

Jacinda yawned and leaned her head back. “I know. But love is the fruit of marriage. That you are interested in something about him is another good sign. A good beginning.” She closed her eyes to indicate that the conversation was over, and the smile that lingered on her lips showed her satisfaction in having the last word.