The Fountains of Silence(37)

He spots Ben Stahl at the edge of the room, deep in conversation with Paco Lobo. Just as Daniel starts toward them, he’s ushered into the main hall.

Waiting in the large salon are over a hundred chairs, neatly ordered in rows. Daniel seats his mother and takes the aisle chair next to his parents. A host introduces the event and the fashion designers. The lights dim.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” says his mother.

Daniel nods, but disagrees. It must be incredibly hard to be a diplomat. He would be terrible navigating endless formal events and discussions. As women sashay down the aisle in a myriad of dresses, his mind wanders to the pictures taped to the wall in his hotel suite.

The audience releases an audible gasp.

“Stunning,” whispers his mother.

Daniel returns his focus to the front of the room. A young model in a shimmering pink gown has taken center stage. She turns slowly, showcasing the narrow dress, and this time Daniel pulls a breath. The posterior of the dress is missing, revealing the woman’s entire back and waist. The fabric clings to the sides of her slender torso and dips suggestively, meeting in a shallow V just above the sacrum of her lowest vertebrae. Her olive skin is flawless and glistens under the lights. Daniel’s eyes are fastened to her back. He’s desperate to photograph the subtle curve and gentle hollow. She rotates and his eyes travel across her small waist, up to her neck. She glows, as if lit from within. Her black hair is swept away from her face, with a few spiraling pieces left to frame her high cheeks, dark eyes, and full mouth.

She walks down the center aisle.

She turns every head.

She is undeniably beautiful.

And then he realizes.

She is Ana.





39



Daniel leaves his seat before the lights return. The models thread through a door at the front of the room, and he trails their exit. Others have beaten him there. Shep Van Dorn, the U.S. public affairs officer, corrals the media for photos. A designer poses with the women in front of an official photographer.

“Wish you had your camera?” asks Nick, stepping in beside him.

You have no idea, thinks Daniel.

“You know they won’t kiss you,” says Nick.

“What?”

“Here in Spain, the girls won’t kiss you. Proper Spanish girls kiss only on the cheek until they’re married. All dates are chaperoned. They grow up slow here,” explains Nick. “My mom thinks it’s great. Seems strange to me. But don’t worry. There are plenty of eager American girls here to choose from.” Nick drains the glass of sherry, noting Daniel’s gaze. “Do you recognize her?” he asks.

Daniel nods.

“Apparently the model was sick. The dress fit Ana, so they had her wear it. C’mon, let’s get ourselves in a picture.” Nick strolls confidently toward Ana.

“Hey, pretty girl. Well done,” says Nick, giving a well-oiled smile to the camera. The photographer snaps a photo of the three of them.

“Gracias,” says Ana. She gives Daniel a polite smile. “Buenas noches, se?or.”

“Hola, Ana. You look lovely.”

“It was all last minute. The dress, the makeup—I was very nervous.”

“You didn’t look nervous,” says Daniel.

“Really?” asks Ana. Her smile widens.

“Really, you looked very comfortable,” agrees Nick.

Shep Van Dorn steers a gaggle of people toward them. “And this showstopper, she’s just a maid at the Hilton, can you believe that?” says Nick’s father.

Just a maid. Ana’s smile retreats.

“What we can believe, Shep, is that sometimes you’re an ass,” says Nick.

The silence is instant, uncomfortable.

Shep Van Dorn gives an exaggerated laugh. “Don’t mind my son. I think Nicky’s sweet on her. But, holy smokes, how could we blame him?” The adults laugh.

Nick glares at his father and shakes his head. He storms off.

“Want some fresh air?” asks Daniel.

“Please,” says Ana quickly. Daniel leads her through a tall glass door into a quiet inner courtyard.

Ana looks at the darkened sky. “I’ve found the answer,” she says quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Why Americans love ice. Here in Spain, we drink wine. But Americans have fancy cocktails that require ice. Gin and tonic, scotch and soda—”

“Ana.”

She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I asked you to work on the photography project. I could tell you were upset. I’ve felt awful about it since yesterday.”

“Don’t feel badly, se?or. Your photographs are beautiful. It’s just difficult because—”

“There he is.” Shep Van Dorn leads Daniel’s parents into the courtyard.

“We’re heading back to the hotel, Dan,” says his father. “We have to be up early.”

“Querida, you are simply stunning,” breathes Daniel’s mother, rushing to Ana’s side. “I’m María Matheson.”

Daniel looks from Ana to his mother. “Mom, it’s Ana.”

“So nice to meet you, Ana,” effuses his mother, clearly unaware that Ana is the employee assigned to her at the hotel. “I see you’ve met my son.”