“ Only the Signor knows,” she answered. That is expected. The lady never gave her answers especially with regards to the Signor. Sal puffed her cheeks and sighed. The lady would keep quiet again then. No questions answered for the next few minutes. With questions, it seems that they’re always numbered and she must have used all chances on that one.

Minutes passed by quietly as the lady set her to task on improving her embroidery, pointing all her small mistakes and missteps with the piece. Sal listened as the lady rambled in whispers on how to position the fingers to avoid the threads getting jumbled. Sal set to work, but her attention was not on her panuelito. The men outside must have come in the house. There was no talking. It was high noon, and no birds chirped outside at this hour. Maybe, the men’s presence was enough to disturb them. More than half an hour later, conversation filled the air outside.

“Signorina?” the lady looked up from her work.

She must have seen her looking outside through the closed windows. Nothing escapes past her eye then for this lady never got tired of telling her off. It is not like she planned to open the windows in her presence to see off the Mercantile.

“ I’m sorry.”

“ Men have important matters to talk about. It would be disrespectful to pry, especially to the affairs of the elders,” The lady continued.

“I’m not interested,” Sal muttered to herself as she assured herself that she is doing what the lady says. She sat back but one can’t help as her ears picked up on the conversation outside.

“ Ini beni fortina, yo restere.”

“Do not fret. Always remember. Lo Sequi venddimia es piu mas abbondare.”

They talked in Caligarian. She glanced at the lady as she continued sewing.

“Stay here. I will go outside to see the Signor off.” The lady said. “ You know what not to do.”

Sal nodded. And as soon as she was quite a number of steps away from her room, there was a gentle voice heard among the rough, and polite Mercantile. It was him. Sal snuck her hand between the windows to make an inch’s worth of space and peek. The high metal gate was opened and two or three of the Mercantile outside. A few servants outside lined up by the gate. Was she mistaken, perhaps?

Footsteps echoed across the hallway leading to the room. Sal shut the window. Almost pinching herself in the process. Back on her seat, she was. The lady came back. Sal propped her hands across the table and pulled the veil over her head.

“ I’ll be fetching everything you need for you.” The lady didn’t even look at her. Guessing by the number of servants on the gate, the Signor must have left. There was no other person in the house besides her and the servants and yet, the lady’s tone conveyed some sort of authority, a dire command when her words before would tell her that she’s only the middleman of the orders.

“ Why?”

“ I’ll get everything you need. I’ll be checking in on you every hour if you need more. “

“ Understood,”

It became quiet again as the lady left. Sal stashed the panuelito on the floor and kicked it away for good measure, after removing the needle, of course. Her legs were plopped onto the chair and the panuelito on her shoulders flung across the room. She took a small stash of notes hidden underneath the clothes shelf and proceeded to draw.

There was nothing remarkable about her sketch. It was only the room that she was in for years. A bed, a table, and a shelf sat at each side. If the wedding takes place in a few weeks. She sketched a man, tall and lanky, like a prince, in the middle of the room. He would be in the center.Ren. Then, a young boy would be seated on the floor. It would be her brother, Oleon. She edged to sketch herself. A panuelito would not be necessary for dancing so it has to go. They all had smiling faces, except hers.