The Fountains of Silence(12)

Daniel scans the guests. “Wealth?”

“Yeah, wealth, but that’s not exactly on the nose. For accurate reporting you have to find the perfect word. The perfect word captures every subtlety. The perfect word shows true comprehension.”

Ben’s hand punches syllables when he says “perfect word,” launching ash confetti to the tablecloth. Daniel stares at the glowing embers as they burn through the expensive fabric. He desperately wants to capture it on film.

“Are you listening, Matheson?”

“Yes, sorry. The perfect word.”

“Correct. The word here isn’t ‘wealth,’ Matheson. The word is ‘fortune.’ Think on that as you’re taking pictures in Spain.” Ben pushes his chair back. “I need to find a litter box.”

Ben is right. The perfect word is like the perfect camera angle; it expresses the true nature of the situation. Change the camera position slightly and the picture tells tales. Daniel thinks of the photo he took of the nun and the baby. Maybe he should mention it to Ben.

Across the table, Daniel’s mother is seated next to Mrs. Van Dorn. Their faces are animated, but they speak in whispers. His mother suddenly looks into her lap. She inhales deeply.

Daniel recognizes his mother’s wearied look, her bookmark between chapters. She’s trying to hide it from Nick’s mom. He turns to Nick and searches for conversation.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“A sister. She’s in New York. My mom leaves tomorrow to visit her.”

“And your school in Switzerland. What’s that like?”

“Le Rosey? It’s better than a tired boarding school in the States. We spend weekends traveling. Lots to take pictures of. Plenty of visits to Madame Claude off the Champs, you know?”

“No, who’s that?”

Nick laughs. “Do you have a girl back in Dallas?”

“I did,” he says, eyeing his mother to make certain she can’t hear them. “It ended just before graduation.”

“Well, that’s lucky. Now you’re single in Madrid for the summer. Tell your dad you need to rent a car from the hotel. My family’s car is a diplomatic vehicle, so we can’t use that. But with our own car and your connections,” a sly grin spreads across Nick’s face, “we’ll have a big time.”

“My connections?”

“Of course. It’s all about connections, cowboy. Your father’s an oil tycoon, negotiating drilling in Spain. Who do you think is authorizing that deal?”

Daniel nods just slightly.

“That’s right. Franco. Sounds like your father’s an influential fat cat. My dad said the embassy is processing your family’s paperwork for the orphanage deal.”

Daniel looks at Nick.

“Wait, you knew, right?” says Nick.

Daniel nods slowly. “Yeah. Of course.”





12



Midday noise floats up from the street and through the balcony door of Daniel’s room. Bands of sunshine wash over the chair where he sits with a book.

Orphanage.

“You’re the only child, Dan. The family business needs you,” his uncle had told him. But if their only child has no interest in the family business, they wouldn’t adopt another, would they? Daniel laughs. No, that’s ridiculous. Nick misunderstood. How would he know anything, anyway? But it pecks at him. It’s an oil deal, not an orphanage deal. Isn’t it?

A light tapping sounds at the entry to his suite. Daniel leaves his chair and pulls open the door. It’s the girl from the housekeeping staff who was in his room yesterday.

“Buenos días, se?or.” She smiles sweetly. “Your mother has sent for you.”

The blink of gold on her tooth matches the buttons on her sleeves. She is energetic yet graceful, with spirals of pretty, dark hair. He tucks the book under his arm and follows her down the hall.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Ana,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

Her eyes are pretty too. He thinks of his camera.

“Something good?” Ana points to the book.

Daniel holds it up and nods. Robert Capa. Slightly Out of Focus.

Daniel’s mother sits at the desk, compiling a list on a hotel notepad. “Your father’s meeting has been changed, cari?o. We’re leaving tonight for Valencia. Would you rather stay here?” Without pausing for an answer, she points to a blouse on the bed and addresses Ana.

“A button fell off. Is there a chance you could mend it?”

“Of course, Se?ora Matheson.” Ana moves to inspect the blouse.

“Remind me of your name, dear?”

“It’s Ana,” says Daniel.

“I’m expecting a telegram. Can you see that I’m contacted as soon as it arrives, Ana?”

“Of course, se?ora.”

“Also, I’d like to take a gift to our dinner hosts in Valencia. Is there something lovely I could bring?”

Ana hesitates, thinking. “Perhaps candies from La Violeta? They are quite adored.”

“Could I trouble you to pick up two boxes?”

“Mom, I’m sure she’s very busy,” says Daniel.

“You don’t mind, do you, dear?” Mrs. Matheson scans her list.