I opened the door that morning when there was a knock and I heard the small little voice of the pretty young maid. I tried to remember my Spanish from school. It was similar enough to Italian, which I was fluent in.
“Cual es tu nombre?” What is your name? I asked as she entered with a fresh silver tray of food.
“Ana Senorita.”
Her voice was so soft.
“Encantada de cococerte…” Nice to meet you.
And, that was about the extent of my Cuban Spanish and I am sure Ana was probably laughing at my American accent as I tried to speak it.
She smiled a delicate little turn of her lips and bowed turning to leave again. She certainly did not want conversation. I guess she had a lot on her plate with chores and so on in this demanding mansion. But that is fine. I don’t require
