Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,4
Catherine. “Unless he comes back.”
Catherine shook her head. “He’s not coming back. Why should he?”
Don Panchito leaned across the counter. “The norteamericanos were here also this morning.”
Catherine leaned forward on her tall stool. “Is it true they’re bankers?”
The old man nodded and refilled Catherine’s cup. “The big bank in the middle of town.”
Catherine set her cup down on the counter. She swore she would never set foot in another bank again, never speak to another banker. But a loan for a truck would make all the difference to the village. If fate had sent her a banker, could she refuse to go and see Mr. Bentley in his big bank in the middle of town?
Joshua Bentley stood at the window of his office on the twelfth floor of the International Bank Building. Before him lay the city of La Luz spread out like a tapestry woven of poverty and riches. He had only been in the city for two weeks, but it called to him, tempting him to come down out of his lofty tower and rub elbows with the people—people like the woman with the dark eyes and pink cheeks. His eyes sought out the corrugated roofs of the Rodriguez Market, barely visible in the haze. Was she sitting there today with her bowler hat tilted tone side, taking advantage of newcomers again? She hadn’t been there yesterday or the day before.
He hadn’t minded being taken or laughed at. Maybe it was the altitude that made him feel this way. At twelve thousand feet hallucinations and faulty judgment were common. But women who ignited sparks with a glance weren’t common, not in Josh’s experience. The phones on his desk rang, the fax machines poured out messages with the prices of gold and silver and yet he stood at the window, wondering where she was and what she was doing.
Finally he could ignore the insistent ring of the telephone no longer. It was the receptionist in the lobby.
“There’s an American woman who wants to see you.”
“What about?” He shifted impatiently. He had work to do. Never mind that he wasn’t doing it.
“She says it’s about a loan.”
“Send her to the loan department.”
“I tried, but she asked for you specifically.”
He sighed. Probably the wife of a businessman who had overdrawn her checking account. “Okay, send her up.”
In a few minutes his secretary, in her high heels and tailored suit, knocked on his door and gave him a puzzled look. “A woman is here to see you...” she began.
He nodded. “I know.” The words died in his throat as she walked into his office. The same woman he’d been thinking about nonstop for the past five days. How in hell had she passed herself off as an American? She was still wearing her ridiculous bowler hat above dark eyes that stared boldly into his.
He was trying to construct a sentence in Spanish, any sentence just to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come and all he could do was point to the chair that faced his desk.
She nodded slightly and carefully folded her long skirt underneath her. Then she pressed her palms together. “I’ve come to ask for a loan,” she said, her unwavering gaze locked with his.
He leaned back against his desk so that he wouldn’t fall over. It was the shock of hearing her speak perfect English. If only she hadn’t asked for something he couldn’t give her.
“Have I come to the right place?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Not really,” he answered reluctantly. “But no matter where you go the answer is no.”
Startled, she stood up. “No? But you haven’t even asked me how much I want or what I want it for.”
“All right,” he agreed. “Tell me how much you want and what you want it for. But first tell me how you happen to speak such good English.”
She tossed her long braid over her shoulder, and he thought he saw a glint of amusement in her dark eyes. But when he smiled back it was gone and he was disappointed.
“I’m an American,” she said. “In the Peace Corps in Palomar, over in the valley.”
Josh’s eyes swept down her body from the hat to the black flat-heeled shoes. So the woman who caught his eye in the market wasn’t a Mamara Indian; she was a Peace Corps volunteer gone native who wanted to borrow money for silver jewelry or a ticket home. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
She held out her hand. “Catherine