“Claudia?”
The older woman looked up from the stew she was cooking as Rosalind padded across red tiles that complemented the kitchen’s golden walls.
“Si, mijita. Que necesitas?” Claudia turned from the stove. Her eyes widened and Rosalind knew her attempts to wipe away the tearstains from her face had been unsuccessful.
Rosalind flopped gracelessly into a rough-hewn chair set beside a matching table used to prepare food. It was littered with peels and cores. “How do you win a man’s affections?”
“Is something wrong? The last time I saw him, Vidal looked as though he was already won.”
“He was, but I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything.” She sniffled. To divert attention away from her misery, Rosalind scooped up the scraps strewn across the table and tossed them into a slop bucket.
Claudia
