Delia's Gift (Delia 3)

He smiled at my surprise. “Oh, of course, you will choose whatever name you want. I’m sure you will make the right choice, as you have just made.”

“Sí, gracias,” I said.

It felt good to know I finally was doing something real for the Davilas, but when I left Señor Bovio’s office, I wasn’t sure if I had made a bargain with a powerful man, concerned for his grandchild, or the devil, concerned with winning another soul.

I imagined it wouldn’t be long before I knew.

4

Visitors

Early in the afternoon two days later, I was on my way to the pool to take my first swim, when I saw what I felt certain was my cousin Edward’s car approach the main gate. When the driver rolled down his window and leaned out to speak to the security guard, I saw that it was indeed Edward.

A surge of excitement seized my heart. Finally, we would see each other again. I waved and shouted, but he wasn’t looking my way, and the brisk breeze carried away the sound of my voice. The guard picked up the phone instead of opening the gate to let Edward onto the property. Seconds later, he hung up the phone and spoke to him again. Too impatient and too excited to wait for him to drive up and park, I had started down the driveway, when suddenly I saw him back up and drive off.

I stopped, stunned.

“Edward!” I shouted, even though his car was gone from sight.

Why hadn’t he come in? I continued down the driveway, hoping he had merely, for some reason, parked outside the gate, perhaps just to the side, but when I got there, his car was nowhere in sight.

“Where is my cousin Edward?” I asked the guard. I did not know his name. He and another two men split the shifts, and I had never spoken to any of them.

“Who?”

“That was my cousin Edward who just drove up to the gate. What happened?”

“Oh. Yeah, Edward Dallas. He didn’t call ahead, so I called up to the house and was told not to let him enter.”

“Not to let him enter? Why not?”

“I don’t know, Miss.”

“Who told you that?”

“Mr. Bovio.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Open the gate,” I ordered. He hesitated. “Open it!”

“I have to call up to the house first, Miss. I don’t open the gate unless I have permission or unless I’m told in advance that someone is coming or leaving. That’s my job. Just a minute, please.”

I stood there with my hand

s on my hips, steaming. I was in a robe and a pair of sandals. The new maternity outfits and shoes had been delivered as promised. Everything was stylish and fit well. There was already even a pair of specially designed walking shoes, but I favored the clothes in Señora Bovio’s closet. As Señor Bovio had predicted, I found beautiful bathing suits that fit, and the sandals looked unused.

Impatient, I went to the gate and looked up and down through the bars, hoping that Edward would either come back or still be within close enough range to see or hear me. The distance between the bars was quite narrow, so I couldn’t see too far down the street, but what I saw was quiet and empty. There was no sign of him. He had probably been very annoyed at being turned away and had rushed off.

I turned quickly when I heard the guard step out of the little guard house.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I was told not to open the gate,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m just following orders, Miss. Sorry. You’ll have to speak to Mr. Bovio.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said, and charged back up the driveway, my heart pounding, the sandals clacking. I practically lunged at the front door and ran down the marble corridor to Señor Bovio’s office. He was on the phone but waved me in when he saw me in the doorway.

“I know. I’m sorry, too,” he told whomever he was speaking to on the phone. “I’ll call you later. I did what you asked. Calm down,” he added, and hung up. Then he shook his head. “What a mess. Sorry about all that,” he said.