Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(27)

Hernandez bowed to them, the hand gripping a tea towel held to his chest. “I welcome you to my home,” he said. “I regret, my wife Menaka, she cannot stand with me. She is being comfortable.” He waved to the armchair in the corner by the kitchen window, where Menaka sat rubbing her swollen stomach. “She is very tired.”

“I’m sure,” Minnie agreed. “It’s nice to meet you, Hernandez. You have a lovely home and thank you for welcoming us into it. We appreciate your hospitality.”

“Thank you,” he said and bowed again. “Will you excuse me, please? I must go back. These soldiers...they eat much.”

Pietro chuckled and Hernandez waved a hand at him before heading back to his kitchen. Duardo dropped into a chair and reached for a plate.

“Is everyone here a soldier?” Calli asked, looking around.

“Yes, all,” Pietro agreed. He ate busily. Elvira had risen from her chair and wandered over to the other table to select food from dishes there, while talking to the people around that table.

A rotund man came to their table and selected a tortillas.

“And this is Pav,” Duardo said.

The man laughed and nodded at them.

“‘Pavarotti,’” Pietro explained and patted the man’s distended stomach.

“Right.”

Pav moved away and Calli leaned forward to examine the dishes. Duardo and Pietro described each one, the spiciness and the ingredients. Elvira came back to the table and added her own knowledge about the preparation of the dishes.

Pietro refilled their glasses of punch.

Calli ate and drank and relaxed, surrounded by people that enjoyed life and welcomed her. They were a lively group. As the pace of eating slowed, guitars were picked up. At first the music was slow and coaxing. Soon, though, a man stood with a shout and stamped his feet, throwing his hands up in the air. It was a declaration. An entrance.

The guitar players picked up the pace. The dancer moved out onto the clear space at the end of the courtyard, tapping his way with expert steps, while the others cheered him on with claps and whistles.

Elvira ran over to him, lifted her skirt to reveal her knees and tapped out intricate steps that sent up a cheer of encouragement.

“Elvira!” someone called. Two small brown objects flew through the air. She caught them and paused to work at them. Then she lifted her hand with a graceful flick. The castanets rattled out a tattoo. She stamped her feet in time.

Two more got to their feet, clapping along with the guitars. Another woman, who had not been on the truck, joined Elvira. Her hands lifted in the same graceful motions as she danced different steps.

“They seem to just do their own thing,” Minnie murmured.

“Whatever the music tells them to do,” Calli said. “They look great.” She heard, with wry resignation, the touch of envy in her tone. That seductive gracefulness had always been beyond her capabilities.

“You can do that,” Pietro told Calli.

She laughed. “Not me.”

“Yes, most certainly,” Duardo added. He picked up Minnie’s hand. “You, too. Come.”

“Me?” Minnie asked.

He nodded.

Minnie let Duardo lead her to the other dancers. He placed her next to Elvira. Elvira picked up her skirt again and tapped out a simple, half-speed set of steps and Minnie followed. After three repetitions, she nailed it with a big smile and a laugh. Then Elvira repeated the step at the proper speed, rapping it out with a Spanish-looking flourish, the castanets adding their compulsive rattle. Then she paused and waited for Minnie to repeat it.

Minnie repeated the pattern, with almost the same flourish and Calli laughed aloud with sheer joy.

Elvira repeated the pattern. Minnie immediately followed with her own repetition. Then they both danced out the pattern, and kept going. Duardo clapped the rhythm, encouraging them. Elvira showed Minnie how to turn and move while keeping the beat and Minnie followed, her hips swaying with the same elegant motion as Elvira. Hesitantly, she added arm movements.

Calli smiled, exuberance bubbling through her veins. Apart from the incongruous denim skirt and short hair, Minnie looked like any of the women dancing there—flirtatious, seductive. Duardo moved around her with the strutty motion the men made as they preened beside the woman. They sent smoldering glances at the women over their shoulders, while their hips echoed the movements the women made. It was as sexy a dance as any tango Calli had ever seen and she tapped her own feet, her hips twitching in time.

“Now you will know how,” Pietro said and picked up her hand. “You understand.”

Calli followed him to the group of dancers and Elvira flashed her a wide smile when she saw her. She showed Calli the step and Calli surprised herself when she executed it perfectly. It made sense to her, the beat and the motion falling into place along with the music. Only, the flat, rubber-soled sandals she wore wouldn’t move easily on the tiles.

Elvira frowned and, over the music, called out something to Menaka, who sat in her armchair clapping as enthusiastically as anyone watching the dancers.

Menaka nodded and called back. Elvira slipped between the bordering ring of spectators and disappeared inside the house. In a moment, she returned with a pair of black heeled shoes in her hand, each with a fine strap over the instep. Dancing shoes.

She thrust them at Calli. “Easier for—” and she stamped out a step or two, the heels of her own shoes rapping on the tiles.