Chapter 15

By the time we got outside, I'd had an idea about where we would wind up going – for at least part of the day, anyway. I made a production out of unlocking and opening the passenger door of the Blazer, and handing Cecelia in.

She looked down at me from her place, one hand on the seat belt. "To what do I owe this royal treatment, my love?"

"Well," I said, "if you're going to look like an empress, I might as well act like you're one."

"A resolve which shall, no doubt, expire with the date," she said with a grin. "Nevertheless, I shall enjoy it while it lasts, though neither of us usually has much use for over-punctilious courtesy."

I grinned back and closed the door on her. Walking around to the driver's side, I found that Darlia was already in, and I'd have been surprised if she hadn't been. She's got her share of Cecelia's imperial nature, but usually she's a tomboy type, more ready to work on an engine than to wear satin slippers.

I got behind the wheel and drove. It was actually pretty easy. I headed west to Pennsylvania, north there, and then west again on Menaul, getting into the right hand lane. We passed the Baillo's building, a big white landmark just before San Mateo, and then pulled into the last driveway before the intersection. I drove around to a parking lot, where I of course parked.

"Why are we here?" Cecelia asked me.

"Oh, I thought we'd pay a visit."

"A visit?" And then her eyes widened. "No, Darvin, you shall not display me to Sara!"

"Oh, but I shall. I know you, C – you couldn't have gotten dolled up like that unless she helped you out, however indirectly. An' she's gonna see the fruits of her labors."

"Darvin, I can't."

I looked at her closely then. "Those are words you don't utter much," I said. "And you're getting darker – a lot darker."

"Darvin, it's one thing to paint myself like this for your amazement, amusement, and admiration. It's one thing to go among the public, for I shall never see those people again, nor shall they see me – and if they do, they won't recognize me. But I can't face Sara like this!"

I reached over and took her hand. "I think I've found a little girl inside that confident exterior," I said, and I wasn't mocking her. "But little girls like to show off, however shy they may be about it."

She bit her lip, and I'd never seen that before. "The fact that you are correct makes me want to level you – with something the approximate size and mass of Greenland."

"Cecelia, here's a serious deal – if you tell me, seriously, to start the engine and drive off, I'll do it. I have no wish to truly embarrass you. But I think that, however shy you're suddenly feeling, you want Sara to get a look at you."

"As I said, you're right." She took in a huge amount of air. "Let's do this before I lose my nerve."

We all piled quickly out of the Blazer. I held the door for Darlia, and then Cecelia, and followed on their heels. Sara Delgado was seating at a vinyl veneer and chrome desk to our right, a few steps into the office, and she turned from her computer as she saw us.

If I'd thought my eyes had widened, I knew better. Sara's eyes got huge, and she stood up. "¡Cecelia, que hermosa!" She gave my wife's name the soft and lovely Spanish pronunciation.

"Do you really think so?" Cecelia asked. Normally she's as fluent in Spanish as any Hispanic could possibly be, but she replied in English. No doubt her nervousness had driven the language from her mind.

"Sí, amiga. Eres la más hermosa de la ciudad, quizás del mundo."

I waved a hand. "Out of the four people in this room, I'm the Anglo. If you don't keep it in English, I'm going to get real lost real quick."

Sara giggled. She's short, and soft, and a little bit overweight, but she's about the cutest woman I've ever seen, and I'd forgive her if she looked like Quasimodo, just because she loves Cecelia so much. "Sorry, Darvin," she said, with a very distinct Spanish accent. "You know me."

"Yeah, I do – after living your whole live in the States, you still speak Spanish better than English ... of course you're fluent in English."

"Yes, but it's my second language." She turned back to Cecelia. "Let me look at you, amiga. Twirl around."

Cecelia did, a delighted grin on her face. Clearly Sara's reaction had banished the nervousness, and she was simply a little girl showing off, never mind that she's 43 years old.

"I like it!" Sara said. "That makeup is exótico."

I knew that word, and could have figured it out if I hadn't. "She sure looks beautiful, don't she?"

"Oh, she does." Sara turned to Darlia, who was grinning like she'd just discovered a bigger diamond than the Cullinan Rough. "I see you've been helping your mamá."

Darlia looked at me for a moment, and I suspected that she was wishing she didn't have to speak English. She's truly bilingual, and given Sara's propensity for Spanish they'd have conversed more easily in that language. "Yes. Did you know, when Gacela and I were asking you 'bout a thousand questions, what we were going to do?"

"I had no idea!" Sara laughed. "But I'm glad you did. I see what I taught you in this, and your mamá's steady hand in the lines ... and her ideas in the way it came out."

Cecelia blushed again, though not as much as she had in the Blazer. "I have long had this notion of myself as..." She trailed off and looked at me. "Darvin knows more about this, but I have sometimes thought of myself as the Queen of Sheba." Her color darkened more, and I guessed that it was because she'd never told Sara this before, even though they're best friends. "And when Darlia persuaded me to try some makeup, my imagination produced this flight of fancy. I have no idea whether I could act, much less act well, but if I ever try out for a part in a production, it will be the part of that Queen, and I'll insist on makeup of this general nature."

Sara looked at Darlia again. "Hemos creado un monstruo," she said.

"English, Aunt Sara, please," Darlia said, looking at me again. "I think Daddy understood that, but you know how he is."

"I know you're speaking better English than you usually do," I put in, not ready for them to discuss the flaws in my Spanish as though I were deaf and absent.