The Spanish Daughter(52)

“Catalina is right, Don Cristóbal. You may stay as long as you need to.” Angélica set her napkin on the table. “Would you excuse us? We must practice our number for the festivities. Vinces’s foundation is coming up.”

I stood up. “Of course.”

As my sisters left the room, Ramona flew behind Angélica. Once the muffled sounds of the violin and the harp began, I sat and turned to Angélica’s husband.

“What brought you to these lands, Laurent?”

“Adventure.” He took a bite of his baguette. One of his slick locks fell across his forehead. “A friend of mine mentioned there was a significant French community here so I thought, why not? If I don’t travel while I’m young, then when? Besides, I was tired of those long European winters. It turned out to be the best decision I could ever make because I avoided that awful war. Mon Dieu, what a disaster that was.”

“Do you plan to go back to Europe one day?”

He set the bread on his plate, then crossed his arms on the table. “Do you?”

I looked out the window. Cacao pods hung from a nearby tree branch. There were so many of them they seemed to multiply like bees in a hive.

“Of course,” I said. “I’m not cut out for the country.”

Nothing was further from the truth. I’d enjoyed my fishing expedition with Martin more than I could’ve ever imagined and those walks in the forest in the early morning were invigorating. Last night at the creek had been like adding crème chantilly to a chocolate mousse. No, I didn’t see myself leaving any time soon.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “It has taken me a while to get used to this place.” He leaned over, lowering his voice. “People here can be so provincial. Cacao has given them more money than they know what to do with, but you can’t buy refinement or class. They all smell of new money. Fortunately, there are many compatriots of mine, but other than them, I can count on one hand the number of people that are worth having a conversation with around here.”

“I certainly hope Do?a Angélica is one of them.”

He smirked, but other than that, his expression was unreadable. He was about to say something else, but instead, he squinted through the window.

“What is she doing here?” Laurent said, almost to himself.

I followed his gaze toward a woman walking by. She wore a beige skirt that nearly touched the ground and a high-collared white shirt. I couldn’t make out her face from afar, but I recognized her unruly waves loosely held in a high bun.

“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.