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The Spanish Daughter(61)

Author:Lorena Hughes

“Do you know her?”

“Oui,” he said, “it’s Aquilino’s maid. God knows what her name is.”

“Mayra,” I said automatically.

He seemed to lose interest. “Something like that. I think she’s Julia’s cousin.”

They were cousins? I had no idea.

He took a last sip of coffee and set the cup down. “Would you like to take a walk by the river, Don Cristóbal?”

I wouldn’t mind getting to know Laurent better to see if he had any connection with Franco, but I could do that any other day, whereas I might not get another opportunity to find out what Mayra was doing here and why she was crying the other day—anything that had to do with my father’s attorney was of interest to me. As the first person to know of my traveling arrangements, Aquilino was still under suspicion. Perhaps Mayra had seen someone or something relevant at the lawyer’s house and could provide valuable information.

“Maybe another day, Laurent. I think I’m going to have another coffee.”

“As you wish.”

He strolled away with his head raised high and a straight back. I couldn’t fathom how a man this young could only live off his hobbies and social events and nothing else. I was a woman, and yet, I missed my daily routine at the chocolate store. I wasn’t convinced either that he loved adventure as much as he said. If he did, he would’ve gotten tired of being idle here for so many years already. What was obvious to me was that he wouldn’t give up this comfort so easily. He seemed to be too satisfied with his current living arrangement.

What if he hired Franco, but didn’t tell Angélica about it?

It could be a mistake to assume that they were a team.

I stood up and headed for the kitchen. Rosita was standing by the stove, eating a hard-boiled egg. She nearly choked when she saw me.

“Don Cristóbal, do you need anything?”

“No, cari?o, don’t you worry about me. I just wanted a piece of fruit.”

I grabbed the first thing I could find, a banana, while searching for Mayra outside the window. She must be talking to Julia.

I stepped out and walked toward the servants’ quarters.

Sure enough, Julia and Mayra were immersed in conversation. Mayra covered her eyes with her hands while Julia stood in front of her, arms folded over her chest.

I hid behind the foliage. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying, just the way Julia’s voice rose once in a while in an accusatory tone. Her finger pointing at Mayra as she scolded her. One of my legs got numb from my unnatural position and I had to gently shake it to get the circulation moving again. Finally, Julia turned around and went back into the house.

This was my chance.

After Julia entered the kitchen through the back door, I approached Mayra, who was leaning against a rock.

She wiped her tears as soon as she saw me and stood up straight. Up close, I could see that her clothes were discolored and shabby as if she’d washed them too many times. Her skirt was wrinkled and the lace of her sleeves and collar looked stained.

“Don Cristóbal!”

“Mayra, are you all right?”

She nodded, her eyes puffy.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Guayaquil?”

She renewed her sobbing, hiccups included. I didn’t know what the proper course of action would be. Patting her back? Talking in a soothing voice? As a man, I couldn’t take the same liberties as I normally would. Touching her would be highly inappropriate. I ended up handing her the banana.

“Here, have something to eat. You look pale.”

Surprisingly, she grabbed the fruit. “Thank you. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

She peeled the banana and took a bite. I sat on the rock and invited her to do the same. As she ate, her crying stopped. I removed Cristóbal’s handkerchief from my back pocket and handed it to her.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help you.”

She took the handkerchief and blew her nose with it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m so stupid.”

“What happened, Mayra?” I tried my kindest tone.

“Don Tomás fired me. And it’s all my fault.” She started crying all over again.

I dared to place my hand on her back. “Calm down, now. I can’t understand you when you cry. Can you tell me why he fired you?”

“Because . . .” She covered her eyes with the handkerchief. “Because I’m expecting a child.”

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