FicWad

Today was indeed really hot, Victoria reflected as she saw Señora Valdès take out a lacy handkerchief to dab at her sweaty face, and then fan herself with it. That's when she saw, thanks to the smear left on the fabric, that Doña Araceli had been wearing make-up. Some sort of powder to make her skin appear fairer, plus a rosy blush. Honestly, what kind of women wore blush in these remote areas of the Spanish empire! What kind of women owned blush?! Victoria's mother had always told her that honest women pinched their cheeks, and that powder was for... well, other sort of girls.

But when the señora folded her handkerchief to put it back in her purse, Victoria now could see that a wide bluish bruise was spreading over her left upper cheek and creeping up to her temple.

And she remembered what she overheard the day before when she and Don Alejandro were discussing the events of the afternoon: when Doña Araceli had followed the tracks of her daughter's abductor and found them, one of those men had hit her in the face.

Ouch, it must have been quite the punch! Now that the powder wasn't totally covering it anymore, Victoria could assess the damage: ow, it was probably still hurting a bit! Poor woman. But the fighter in Victoria couldn't help but admire her and approve of her reaction at her daughter's abduction. She and Don Alejandro sure found each other. If only Don Diego could take a leaf out of her book!

At the same moment a group of soldiers entered the tavern, and Victoria noticed that Sergeant Mendoza was among them. Mendoza... yes, why not? She'd have to chat with him to test the water.

She thought further: who else could she put on her list? Then a sudden thought sprouted in her mind, but she discarded it immediately after: no, Don Alejandro really already had his share of problems and scandal for now, he didn't need another one on top of things! Admittedly he was a great father, a reliable man, a friend of her family, a widower, a wonderful man and so one, but no. And perhaps there was still Doña Araceli in the equation. Not to mention that he would say no, and even try to dissuade her.

And anyway she couldn't get over his age. No, she really couldn't.

Nor could she get over the fact that he had been her father's friend. That he had known her as a child and used to bounce her on his knees. Or that he was Don Diego's father. Really, what would Don Diego think of her? He'd probably never want to talk to her ever again. And she'd never dare look him in the eyes.

And anyway, with Don Alejandro she could never... Never.

Not to mention that Don Alejandro was a caballero. And rich. Too rich. Too high. Off limits for a middle class woman like herself. Señora Valdez was a lady. She, Victoria Escalante, wasn't. She was just a working-class girl who had reached middle-class thanks to some success in her job. Doña Araceli was upper-middle class, with the upbringing that came with it. And already rich, according to Victoria's standards.

A caballero was unattainable for a girl like herself, she reflected. People would say she's after his money. Or his station. Would call her a gold digger. Since the previous days' stunning revelations, she had heard what some of her customers said of Señora Valdès and of her supposed interest for the de la Vega's wealth. Victoria was ready to endure many gossips, to put up with bad words about her conduct, to be called loose – or even worse – and just grin and bear it, but she wouldn't agree with being called venal. She wouldn't accept for people to think that she wanted to take advantage of an unsuspecting man, or that she was the kind of woman disposed to sell herself. No.

But then, who, apart from Mendoza? She mentally added to her list José Riva: he was a farmer, he was single, he was an honest and nice man... but she didn't know him that personally, it would seem weird to approach him with this idea. Well, that was something that could be arranged, she thought, she'd chat a bit more with him from now on.

And he was young, a good point for him. And handsome, which didn't hurt. Not that it was important, she reflected on second thought: after all, she didn't know Zorro's face, and she didn't mind: he could be ugly as sin under this mask, he'd still be the brave and generous heart she knew and loved, the dashing hero she wanted.

Then a funny thought came to her mind: what if on her mental list she unknowingly added the man under the mask? But from funny it turned to frustrating: if ever he was the man she finally propositioned, he'd probably be mad at her for planning to have intercourses with someone else – well, someone else than himself, or rather of his Zorro-self, even it would still be him, but him-himself and not him-Zorro, and... Oh, Dios, all this was so confusing!

Alright. Jaime Mendoza, José Riva... who else? Couldn't Heaven give her a hint, a clue, a sign as to who could be willing to make a child with her and not become a nuisance to her about it? Couldn't divine Providence make the man suddenly appear before her eyes or enter her tavern right now?

Pff, she thought, considering how... questionably moral and morally questionable her plan was, of course she'd better not count on God's helping hand this time.

No, she'd have to think thoroughly to find the right man for the job. It would be far too easy if he could just turn up in her tavern right then! Ah, but if only she could just jump on the first man who'd cross the threshold to drag him upstairs to her bed, and be sure he was the best choice! Please, please, please, Santa Madre de Dios, por favor, make him appear!

"Buenos días, Victoria!"

"Hmm?" she said, still half lost in her inner thoughts. "Oh, yes, buenos días Don Diego," she absent-mindedly answered his greeting before going back to her kitchen with the pile of empty plates she had just cleared from the tables.

Really, why didn't chance or providence help her at least a little bit and give her a small nudge in the right direction?

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

"Good, very good Leonor," Diego commented as he bent over the little girl's shoulder to take a better look at the sketch she had been drawing for the last quarter of an hour, while her mother and him were talking over drinks in the tavern.

As she was passing by, Victoria peeked at the sketch: a landscape. A meadow, trees, a pathway and the outline of a hill on the left. It seemed vaguely familiar to her until recognition hit home: it was one of the paintings hanging on the walls of her tavern. The one opposite the child, in fact.

"Now," Don Diego went on as Victoria had her back to them, "in order to better render the perspective you can play with contrast. What's further will appear paler, so don't press too much your pencil on the paper. It will also make it appear hazier, like in reality when something is far away. And the closer your trees get to the forefront, the neater you will make them: by increasing the pressure on your pencil, but also by adding more detail like different shades of colour, or in this case, of grey. And don't forget about the shadows, remember where the light comes from: that's also how you will render the volume of your trees."

Leonor was diligently following his advice, and after some time she held the sketchbook at arm's length to assess the result of her work.

Then she shyly poked her newly found brother's forearm to get his attention while he was chatting with her mother.

"Like that?" she asked, showing him her masterpiece.

"Nice work," he commented. "Now don't forget to add the shadows of the trees projected on the grass."

She went back to the task and two minutes later, she proudly went to her mother and insistently patted her arm until Araceli gave her her full attention:

"Look, Mamá!" she said, displaying her sketch in front of her mother's eyes.

"That's very nice, mi gatita," Araceli commented.

At the same time, out of the corner of her eye Victoria saw the group of soldiers get up to leave the tavern and probably go back to the cuartel.

"Oh, Sergeant Mendoza!" she called out.

She knew she shouldn't let him out without speaking to him: she could feel that her bravery and resolution were wavering, and she didn't want to give herself the time to chicken out; it was not something easy to ask, and she knew it might alter forever the image her dear friend Mendoza had of her... but she had to strike when the iron was hot!

"Si Señorita?" the sergeant asked.

She walked to him and took him apart from the group.

"Can you come with me for a minute, Sergeant? I'd like to have a private word with–"

"Oh Señorita, I know I have run up quite a bill here, but I swear that as soon as our pay is–"

"What?!" Victoria asked, totally at a loss as to what Mendoza was telling her. "Oh!" she finally understood, "n– no... no, that's not what..."

"Sergeant," Corporal Sepulveda called out, "the alcalde is waiting for us!"

"Señorita," Mendoza told her, "I'm sorry but the alcalde... You know how he is... Can it wait until tomorrow?"

Victoria was a bit disappointed, but she nodded and smiled at him.

"Si, si... Will you have lunch here?"

"Probably."

"All right. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow, Señorita. Hasta mañana!"

On the way back to her counter Victoria noticed that little Leonor had gone back to drawing, and Don Diego was standing just behind her. Or rather bending over her shoulder. Which, from Victoria's point of view behind them, was bringing out his... erm... fundament. Ashamed at herself for staring at Don Diego's backside, Victoria quickly tore her gaze away from his behind and hastily settled her eyes elsewhere. Really, that was all the fault of these tight trousers. Yes, she entirely blamed this current trend for tight men's pants combined with very short jackets.

Couldn't resent a girl for ogling, in these conditions... right?

"See?" Don Diego was telling his sister, "all your lines of perspective, called vanishing lines, must converge to one point and only one, called vanishing point."

"But..." the child said, "but the paper is far too small!"

Diego had a gentle and amused laugh.

"Yes of course," he finally answered, "but this point doesn't have to be on the page! It can be further, beyond the paper. Like this."

He positioned the sketchbook on one end of the table and placed Leonor's seat near it. Then he took his empty glass and put it down on the opposite side of the table, in a corner.

"See? Now that you have drawn the front of the house and the gable end of the stables, you will draw the directions of the side walls by pointing to the glass: don't worry about the length right now, just draw the vanishing lines that all converge to the glass. Comprendes?"

"Si," the little girl answered, "but are you sure Señora Victoria will be very happy with me drawing lines on her table?"

Again, Diego had a kind laugh. Children, really!

"No! You don't have to actually write on the table, you must imagine the line continuing beyond your paper!"

"But it's very difficult!" the girl complained. "And anyway I don't have a ruler!"

"You have to draw it freehand, Leonor," he retorted. "It's art, querida, not technical drawing of a blueprint!"

Victoria started a bit at the endearment. Well, apparently those two had finally broken the ice! She had never heard Don Diego use endearments with anyone... even less that one! It sounded... strange? Or strangely not that strange?

Well, whatever. He was still bent over her and leaning with one hand on the table – yes Victoria, that's it, watch the arm and not... elsewhere – while with his other hand, armed with a pencil, he was aiming at the glass and showing her how to proceed.

Señora Valdès had been right: Don Diego was good with her. They seemed to be getting along now, thanks to some sheets of paper and a few pencils. And to Diego's goodwill...

As Victoria had said earlier, he would make a great big brother. And who knows, if he finally gave up on his stubborn one-sided infatuation for some mysterious lady who didn't love him back, one day he'd probably make a good father. To Don Alejandro's utmost delight.