Fatima got up to stir the soup. “He won’t believe it. I should probably say August. That sounds better.”
“Fine, August is good. Then when he comes around in August, you can tell him I’ve gone to Africa to photograph cheetahs.”
Fatima set her place and brought the bowl of soup to the table. “Maybe you should talk to him yourself.”
“What could I possibly say? He had to be laughing at me the whole time.” Fatima made wonderful vegetable soup with every fresh vegetable available at the market. “This is so good. Thank you for being here.”
Fatima sat with her at the table. “I work here, remember? I’ve visited the widows and done some mending for them. We even had an afternoon tea party with little sandwiches it took me all morning to make. I hope you’ll come home soon so we’ll have our usual routine.”
Ana doubted her life would ever be the same. She leaned back in her chair. “I’ll probably stay only a week or two at my mother’s. Lamoreaux wants me to do his shoe ads even if I have only one good foot. Then there’s the movie. I can’t take off so long everyone forgets I exist.”
“You needn’t worry. You’re as lovely as always, if a bit thin. You’ll probably have more work than you can do when the cast is removed.”
“Let’s hope. Do the widows play cards? Maybe you could organize some sort of a tournament.”
“Excellent suggestion. While you finish your soup, I’ll see to the laundry.”
“Thank you. I want to take many of the same things.” She couldn’t get into a pair of pants, so long skirts would have to do. Her mother had a beautiful garden, and her stepfather grew herbs and vegetables for his café. Maybe she could stand out in the yard, play scarecrow and make herself useful.
On his way home from the airport, Alejandro stopped at Ana’s condo. Henry informed him she’d left for the airport a couple of
hours prior. “Did she say where she was going?” He signed his name in the visitor’s book to prove he’d been there, if she cared to look.
“She’s visiting her mother, who’s a very charming woman, although she hasn’t visited in a while.”
Alejandro lounged against the counter. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. She lives in Rouen, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, Miss Santillan has brought us pastries from her stepfather’s café, and they are beyond delicious. The French have many faults, but they must be born knowing how to cook.”
“And design haute couture,” Alejandro added. He kept Henry talking a few minutes more so he wouldn’t appear as desperate as he was to find Ana. He ached for her, and he’d do whatever he could to make things right.
He’d noted Fatima’s number the first time Ana had asked him to call her and phoned her the next morning. “Please don’t hang up on me.”
“I told you I’d deal with you if you hurt Ana, so don’t you dare ask me to help you make up with her. She’s finished. Done. Through. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but I’d still like to come talk with you.”
“Why? It wouldn’t do you any good.”
“I want to adopt the kittens.”
“You what?”
“You heard me. Ana doesn’t really want them, and I do. I’ll come get them this morning if you’re at her condo.”
Fatima answered after a long pause. “I’ll let you have them on the condition you’ll return them if she wants them.”
“I’ll put it in writing.”
He’d spent more time at the hospital with his father than at home since he’d left the cruise, but the cats would have each other and as long as he fed them, they’d be fine on their own. He drove over to Ana’s condo and signed in. “How are you this morning, Henry?”
“Fine, thank you, Mr. Vasquez. You know Miss Santillan isn’t home.”
“I do, but I came by to pick up the cats. They need more attention than Ana can give them.”
“Are you sure that’s what she wants?”
“Yes, I am. Fatima knows I’m coming.”