The Girl Who Could Silence the Wind (11 page)

“Hurry, girls!” Ramona said. “She’s not to be kept waiting.”

Eva gave Sonia an apologetic look.

“Come on,” Dalia called over her shoulder as she swept past them toward the stairs. “Or do I have to do this myself?”

The sound of Sonia’s thick heels clicked in time with Dalia’s as they made their way along the marble hallway to the bedrooms. Sonia grew more frightened with each step. This was her first time in the upstairs chambers — Señora Masón’s most private area of the house. And it was the first time she would lay eyes on her employer. She had seen Señora Masón only from a distance. The many portraits around the house showed a proud silver-haired woman with no smile.

By the time they reached the door, her hands were shaking so violently that the coffee was in a puddle.

Dalia looked at the mess in disgust. There was no time to return to the kitchen, so she untied the ends of her apron and mopped the tray. Then she stuffed the dirty apron behind a potted palm. “I won’t help you again, so calm yourself. And while you’re at it, get that look off your face. You’re not going to an execution.”

With that, she opened the double doors and stepped inside.

That Katarina Masón was already waiting — impeccably powdered, dressed, and combed — did not surprise Sonia. Eva had already told her that the woman was a well-known insomniac and had been since the night her husband, Don Carlos Masón, died without warning in their bed while eating red grapes and cheese. According to the gossip columns, he’d been a sweet buffoon — but one with blood cold enough for running a business and living with a spoiled woman. From the day he left her a widow, she awoke at four o’clock each morning to read all the society pages in the capital. Then she personally arranged her grueling social calendar, a task she trusted to no secretary. Eva claimed that she spent her time trading stories with the wives of government officials and gambling away her husband’s endless fortune on horse races.

“Muy buenos días, Señora Masón,”
Dalia said.

Teresa, who handled the most intimate details of Katarina Masón’s elaborate toilette, looked up from folding a silk nightdress. When she saw the two girls, her face soured.

“You’re late,” she muttered. “We run a disciplined house,
oyeron
?”

Sonia crossed the room to set down the tray, in the exact manner as Dalia. She was within inches of Katarina Masón and could smell her perfume. She was a woman in her fifties, but with the unmistakable air of the rich and well cared for, she looked only a few years older than Ramona. Already in pearls, she sat across from a young man who wore a white linen suit and had topaz rings on his fingers. The young man had the same piercing blue eyes as his aunt, the same air of the upper class. He could have been a school chum of Rafael’s if they’d been born in the same circles, Sonia thought, studying him from the corner of her eye. Eva was right. He was handsome. Still, his good looks instantly made her more nervous.

“Hello,” Umberto said, showing off a bright smile.

Sonia nodded and looked down at once.

He smiled pleasantly as he watched Dalia unload the things on her tray. When one of the dogs snapped at the pastries, he reached protectively for her hand.

“You’d better be careful! These beasts have a mind of their own. They’ll bite your pretty fingers off like tasty sausages.” He lowered his voice and winked. “I can’t say I’d blame them.”

Dalia took back her hand and set the silverware without hesitation. “I’m not afraid of dogs,
señor.
”

Señora Masón opened the morning paper and squinted. “I need light,” she said briskly.

It took Teresa’s piercing glare for Sonia to realize that Señora Masón was talking to her.

Sonia pulled back the brocade curtains and cranked open the windows. The morning sunshine streamed in from the balcony and warmed the whole room in a pretty glow that gave Sonia pause. Finches darted in the potted hibiscus as she tied back the sashes. The sight of them made her remember Pancho, who sometimes clipped blooms and left them anonymously on her chair at school. She was still in her daydream when she turned back to see Umberto smiling wolfishly at her.

“And who is this little lovely thing, Tía?” he said to his aunt. “You haven’t introduced us.”

Sonia blushed.

Teresa turned from the bureau, where she was arranging lace handkerchiefs, and looked from Sonia to Umberto. Then she frowned.

“Tell Señor Umberto your name,” she ordered. “They do teach manners in the countryside, don’t they?”

Sonia felt her mouth go dry as everyone waited. “Sonia Ocampo,
señor.
It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said. “I hope you’re enjoying your work here so far.”

Katarina Masón put down her paper and regarded Sonia carefully. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Sixteen,
señora.
”

She shook her head and picked up her paper.

“What is Arenas sending me, Teresa?” she asked. “This one still has her milk teeth! I’ll have to complain. Remind me.”

Sonia stared at her shoes.

“Tía,” Umberto exclaimed. “I think that’s too harsh. Sixteen is a perfect age to leave the nest. She’s young and pretty, that’s all.” He smiled at Sonia in a way that made her feel worse. Then he motioned to the selection of pastries on the tray.

“What do you recommend?”

Before Sonia could reply, Dalia plucked a raspberry tart from the bunch and dropped it on his plate. If he’d been a boy at home, Sonia was sure Dalia would have plucked his eyes out instead.

“Fill the cups,” Dalia ordered.

Umberto leaned back, chomping on the
pastel
as Sonia poured the coffee. The corners of his mouth were soon stained red with jam. He was looking devilishly from Sonia to Dalia, openly comparing the merits of their waists and hips, when the sunlight from the balcony made Sonia’s necklace glitter like a star.

“Come here.” He motioned to Sonia.

For a long moment, she did not move. A boy had never ordered her about, not even Rafael. She looked to Dalia for help, but her expression was blank.

Teresa, however, seemed angrier by the moment. “Did you hear what Señor Umberto said? He’s called you. Go.”

Sonia set down the pot and went to him. Umberto took the eye charm between his sticky fingers and flashed a smile as he pulled her a little closer. His breath was on her shoulders, and his eyes flitted over her bosom.

“Where did you get such a necklace, Sonia Ocampo?” he cooed. “It must have cost a pretty penny.” He looked at his aunt, whose jewelry collection was the talk of every woman in the capital. “What do you think, Tía?”

Señora Masón laid down her paper again and looked over the top of her reading glasses irritably.

“What a question, nephew! Next you’ll confuse glass with sapphire. It’s a cheap rural piece, of course, from the interior,” she said. “The countryside is full of those
milagros
— and the little superstitions that go with them.”

Sonia forced herself not to speak.
Milagros
were pounded with care into the shape of each person’s hope, she knew. They weren’t cheap — in any way.

“But where did you get it?” Umberto insisted, holding his nose rudely to the metal and helping himself to another look inside her uniform.

She tugged firmly enough to step back.

“It was a going-away gift,” she said quietly.

“Oh,” he said, pouting. “A boyfriend, I suppose.”

Suddenly, he screamed and jumped back from the table. Hot coffee was steaming in his lap and dripping onto the Oriental rug.

“You stupid girl!” he shouted at Dalia. “You’ve ruined my suit! I’m scalded!”

“A million pardons,” Dalia said without a trace of remorse in her voice. She looked at Sonia severely. “We will need more coffee. Fetch it now.”

Old Teresa snatched the coffeepot from Dalia, complaining loudly about the shabby qualifications of modern workers.

“You’ll do well to call Arenas,
señora,
” Teresa said.

Sonia backed from the room, her eyes meeting Dalia’s for a split second as the insults rained down. She’d scalded him on purpose; Sonia was sure of it. Dalia was never careless.

She raced all the way to the kitchen, grateful that Ramona was at the gate, arguing with the grocer about a bill. How would she explain such a catastrophe?

Eva shook her head as she filled a new carafe, listening to Sonia’s account of what happened.

“Hmpf.” She buttoned up her uniform to the chin and pushed the door open with her bottom. “Stay here,
mi vida.
”

Sonia watched her disappear through the door. The kitchen suddenly felt empty and large. Teresa would have Ramona’s ear about Dalia before the day was through.

Sonia sat down at the worktable, her mind carefully going over the morning’s events. What could she do to repair them? She knew all the girls would pay for what happened — even Dalia.

She changed into her work apron, her hands still shaking. The birds in the ice chest were all plucked and chilled by the time the others returned.

“W
HO EVER HEARD
of such a thing? Two girls needed to buy the bread and cheeses in town?
¡Qué cosa!
People will say we’re hiring the simpleminded!” Old Teresa grimaced at the sprig of daisies she was arranging in a vase.

“I want them to go,” Dalia said from the corner, where she was carving radishes into rosebuds. “I’ll finally get my work done in peace.”

“And who asked your opinion?” Teresa barked.

“I think it’s the perfect day for the girls to go,” Ramona said. “
La señora
will be at the polo matches today. Have you forgotten? We won’t have guests to worry about. Besides, Sonia hasn’t seen the city yet.”

“That one?” The old woman rolled her eyes to the heavens. “She needs to learn hard work, that’s all. She won’t learn that by strolling around like an empress!”

Ramona smiled at Teresa. “I’ve heard Oscar say
you
were once quite a beauty strolling along the avenues, too.”

Sonia tried not to gape at the thought. It was impossible to imagine a shriveled crone like Teresa being carefree and pretty.

“Keep this in a safe place,
oíste
?” Ramona handed Eva several bills.

“No one will lay his hands on this,” Eva promised, tucking it inside her brassiere.

“Unless you want him to,” Dalia muttered.

“And for you, the list,” Ramona told Sonia. “Don’t forget: It’s the stop by the amphitheater. The stop after
that
is Colonia Vásquez.” She shuddered and pointed at Sonia’s shiny charm. “Tuck that in. Pickpockets and thieves are the order of the day there.”

Eva hooked a basket over her wrist and pointed to the kitchen clock, her eyes shiny with excitement.

“Let’s go,
cariño
!” She grabbed Sonia by the elbow and hurried toward the door. “We’ll miss the morning trolley!”

Using Cuca’s map, they got off at the appointed stop and climbed the steep hills toward the market. Unlike Tres Montes, the shops here were all indoors and boasted elegant plate-glass windows. Eva dallied at each to admire the finely dressed mannequins, contemplating the attire as if it were in the reach of her empty pocketbook.

“¡Qué belleza!”
she said, pressing her nose to the glass of a dress shop. A wide-brimmed hat with a purple sash had caught her eye. “That color complements my eyes.”

Sonia squinted to read the price tag and gasped.

“We’ll have to work until we’re old women to buy that,” she said. “It’s more than a year’s worth of wages!”

Eva pouted. “This way, then, spoilsport.”

She unbuttoned the top of her uniform to show off her neck and crossed the busy street with confidence. Sonia followed, only narrowly dodging a man maneuvering his heavy vegetable cart over the cobblestones.

“Careful!” he huffed, just as she bumped into the street sweeper, pushing his broom.

“Look where you’re walking,
señorita
!” cried the other.

Sonia mumbled her apologies and rushed to catch Eva, who was nearly lost inside the mob of servants dashing about on their early morning errands. All were dressed in the fussy uniforms of the houses they served. Eva knew each house by heart.

“The red shirts belong to the Rodero family, the pale green skirts to Ortiz.” She waved at a girl she recognized. “And that bile-yellow sash is an atrocity of the La Calles,” she added under her breath. “Even our widow’s garb is better than that.”

When they finally reached the food market, it was already as crowded as an ant colony. Their strategy was for Sonia to read the items aloud as Eva spied the right vendor and pushed her way to the front of each line. They bought fresh milk and cream, picked tangerines for ambrosia, waited for two loaves of bread to be pulled from the baker’s oven, and found cuts of pork that would not become too hard in Dalia’s fryer.

By midday their baskets felt heavy, and their backs were soaked with perspiration. The black uniforms seemed to draw in every last ray of sunshine.

“I can’t walk another step,” Eva groaned, sinking onto a shady bench near a long line of parked cars. She unlaced her heavy shoes and pried them off before rolling down her stockings to cool her legs. “It’s no wonder Ramona has such flat feet.”