She was still there on Monday morning, when Paloma arrived for work. Coop asked her to bring trays for both of them, which she did with a sullen expression of disapproval. She glared at Coop, slammed the trays down on the bed, and stalked out of the room in bright pink high heels. The accessories she wore with her uniform always fascinated him.
“She doesn't like me,” Charlene said, looking crestfallen. “I think she disapproves.”
“Don't worry about it. She's madly in love with me. Don't be afraid if she makes a jealous scene,” he said sarcastically, as they dug into what appeared to be rubber eggs, covered with a thick layer of pepper which made Coop choke and Charlene sneeze. It was a far cry from the huevos rancheros she'd made him the week before. Paloma had won this round, but Coop was determined to have a word with her after Charlene left, and by then it was early afternoon.
“That was an interesting breakfast you served this morning, Paloma.” Coop stood in the kitchen, looking coolly at her. “The pepper was a nice touch, but unnecessary. I needed a buzz saw to cut through the eggs. What did you make them with? Rubber cement, or just ordinary paper glue?”
“I donnow what ju talkin' about,” she said cryptically, polishing a piece of silver that Livermore had told her had to be polished every week. She was wearing the rhinestone sunglasses again. They were obviously her favorites, and were becoming Coop's too. He was wondering if there was even a remote possibility of bringing her to heel. If not, he was going to have to replace her, no matter what Abe said. “Ju don' like my eggs?” she asked angelically, as he scowled at her.
“You know what I mean.”
“Miss Pamela called from Italy this morning, at eight o'clock,” Paloma announced nonchalantly, and as she did, Coop stared. Her accent had suddenly disappeared.
“What did you just say?” It wasn't so much what as how.
“I said…” she looked up at him with an innocent grin, “Mees Pamela called ju at eight o'clock.” The dialect was back again. She was playing games with him.
“That's not how you said it a minute ago, is it, Paloma? What's the point of all that?” He was visibly annoyed, and she looked a little sheepish, and then covered it with bravado and a shrug.
“Isn't that what you expect? You called me Maria for the first two months I was here.” He could still hear the echo of San Salvador, but only faintly, and her English was almost as good as his.
“We hadn't been properly introduced,” he excused himself. And although he wouldn't have admitted it to her, he was faintly amused. She had figured she would hide from him by pretending to be barely able to speak English. He suspected she was not only smart, but probably a damn good cook too. “What did you do in your country, Paloma?” He was suddenly intrigued by her. As irritating as she was, she was becoming a human being to him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be burdened with that. But nonetheless, his curiosity got the best of him.
“I was a nurse,” she said, still polishing the silver. It was a loathsome task, and she missed Livermore almost as much as Coop.
“That's too bad,” Coop said with a grin, “I was hoping you were going to tell me you were a tailor or a dressmaker. At least then you could take proper care of my clothes. Fortunately, I am not in need of your nursing skills.”
“I make more money here. And ju have too many clothes,” she said, donning the accent again, like a garment she put on and off at will. It was like playing peekaboo with him.
“Thank you for that piece of editorial commentary. You have some interesting accessories yourself,” he said as he glanced down at the pink shoes. “Why didn't you tell me Pamela called, by the way?” He had already decided to make a switch in paramours. But he always remained friends with the previous ones. And he was generous enough that they always forgave him his vagaries and his sins. He was sure Pamela would.
“You were busy with the other one when she called. What's her name.” The accent was gone again.
“Charlene,” he supplied, and Paloma looked vague. “Thank you, Paloma,” Coop said quietly and decided to quit while he was ahead, and left the room. She never wrote a single message down, and only told him about them when she thought of it, which worried him. But she seemed to know who the players were. So far, at least. And she was becoming a more interesting character herself day by day.
