"... until he can make arrangements, tomorrow, to safely transport it else-where. Se¤ora Carzino-Cormano said you would understand the necessary im-position this will cause."
"Sure," Clete said. "No imposition at all. When can I expect her?"
"She said that you would understand why she can't call today, but that she looks forward to seeing you tomorrow."
I wonder what that's all about?
Clete started to get dressed.
Cousin Jorge Alejandro's-the late Capitan Duarte's-polo shirt fit him perfectly. The breeches were maybe half an inch too large in the waist, and the jacket was a little loose. But once he managed to work his feet into them, the boots also seemed to fit perfectly.
One other item of clothing was left on the clothes horse, a whatchamacallit like Roberto Lauffer was wearing. Roberto's was yellow. Cousin Jorge Alejan-dro's whatchamacallit was red.
Foulard! It's a foulard!
Maneuvering the silk foulard in place, and making it stay in place, proved more difficult than he thought looping some red silk around his neck would be, but he finally made the thing work.
"Very elegant," Lauffer said.
"I'd feel a lot more comfortable in it if my father's butler hadn't told me my father bought it as a Christmas present for my cousin, the late Capitan Duarte."
"I'm the youngest in a large family," Lauffer said. "I think I was sixteen be-fore I received anything but shoes that weren't previously 'hardly worn at all' by one or more of my brothers. Be grateful it fits. And it is elegant!"
"You look pretty elegant yourself. I never saw you in civvies before."
"One never knows, does one, where one might come across an attractive member of the gentle sex with an eye for a man's clothes," Lauffer said.
"And then, all dressed up, you get yourself screwed by the fickle finger of fate? You get sent over here, where the only female is going to be my Aunt Bea-trice."
"'Fickle finger of fate'? That's good," Lauffer chuckled. "Well, there's al-ways tomorrow." Then, visibly embarrassed: "Forgive me, I was not thinking of what will happen tomorrow. No disrespect was intended."
"I know that," Clete said. "I'm just going through the motions. I'm told the people who work here expect it." He turned to Enrico. "You did find the Capitan someplace to sleep. Enrico?"
"I told Antonio you would wish for el Capitan to be well cared for," Enrico said. "He is the third door to the left."
"Speaking of Aunt Beatrice," Clete said, "Antonio said she'll be here any minute, Enrico. I think el Capitan and I need a little liquid courage before we face her. Is there anything-strong-in here we can drink?"
"Scotch whiskey, mi Mayor?"
Clete looked at Lauffer, who nodded.
"Please, Enrico."
"My pleasure, mi Mayor," Enrico said, and walked out of the bedroom.
He's never going to stop calling me "Major," Clete thought. To hell with it. And then he had another thought: "It's liable to be worse with my aunt than you think," Clete said.
"She is a very charming lady."
"Tonight, she will almost certainly regale you with the details of a wedding we
hope will be held here sometime in the near future."
"Oh, really? Whose?"
"Mine."
Lauffer's eyebrows went up.