As soon as I sat down, Martin handed me the drink. One could get used to this pleasurable existence of drinking and eating in excess. How different men were. On my wedding day, I’d been cautious not to eat too much, lest my stomach might swell or I might stain my dress. Mamá always said that men didn’t like gluttonous women, though I doubt Cristóbal cared or even paid attention to what I ate. As a woman, there had been so many rules to follow.

“Anyway,” I said, holding on to my glass. “This morning I ran into Dr. Aquilino’s maid, Mayra. I don’t know if you’ve met her? Well, the poor girl is devastated because she lost her job and is looking for a new one.”

“So you thought I ought to hire her.”

“Yes.” I crossed my leg, mimicking Martin’s confident gesture. “You could all benefit: Mayra would have a job and a place to live, Bachita would serve your lunch on time, and you would have a cleaner house.”

He studied me for a moment. “Sounds like a grand plan. But tell me, if she’s so wonderful why did Aquilino fire her?”

I finished my drink. How much should I tell him? He was bound to find out she was expecting, but he didn’t need to know all the details.

“She’s expecting a baby.”

He unfolded his leg. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be so prudish. Not after what I’ve seen you do! These things happen.”

“It’s not a matter of principle. Pregnant women are complicated. What am I supposed to do with a child running around the house?”

“Nothing. The child will have a mother to look after him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to let that poor girl wander aimlessly without a home? You know what happens to women when they fall in disgrace.”

“But why don’t you talk to Angélica? She has a lot more money than I do.”

“Because she already has two maids and besides, Mayra is Julia’s cousin and Julia is vexed with her.”

“All right, all right, this is already too much information.”

I bit my lower lip. I’d said too much. Cristóbal didn’t care for this much detail pertaining to our staff, either. I recalled all the times I’d talked about La Cordobesa and how the entire town had treated her like a pariah. My husband had the same bored expression Martin now had.

“Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

I hesitated. To say or not to say.

“You know, you ought to try chocolate and stop chewing on those beans. If you want, I’ll make some for you after lunch.”

* * *