Free Windswept by Ann Macela

“This is my wife, Eva. Eva, why don’t you take Dr. Browning to her room so she can freshen up? If you’ll give me your car keys, maestra , I’ll put the car in the garage when I’m done.”
    Barrett smiled at the term maestra , Spanish for teacher and a title of respect. She gave Gonzales the keys and turned to his wife. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Gonzales.”
    “And you, maestra . Please call me Eva. If you’ll follow me . . .” Eva, a short, roly-poly, cheerful-looking woman, led the way up the stairs at the back of the entry and along the balcony over the dining room.
    They went past an open door through which Barrett saw a bedroom. She followed Eva into the next and last room on the end of the house. The beautifully appointed guest room with its own attached bath contained an alcove seating area with a comfortable-looking chair and a television set.
    “Lunch is ready, maestra ,” Eva said after showing Barrett where the towels were. “I thought you might like a light, cold meal after your long trip, so I prepared a shrimp salad with lime and avocado. Perhaps with some iced tea?”
    “Sounds wonderful,” Barrett replied. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
    “Just come down to the dining room whenever you’re ready. Oh, and please let me know if there is any type of food you don’t eat or if there is anything special you would like me to prepare.”
    “I’m not picky. Whatever you and Mr. Gonzales are eating will be fine.”
    “I was planning on a chicken dish tonight.”
    “Chicken will be fine,” she reassured Eva.
    “ Muy bien ,” the housekeeper said. “Just come to the dining room when you’re ready.”
    Barrett stopped to study her surroundings. She was relieved to see the room did not continue the relentless hard starkness of the contemporary living room. The conventionally styled furniture and the earth-tone colors in the walls, carpet, and bedspread were more soothing to her eyes than the vivid colors below, but the space was not without its own drawbacks. She blinked as she realized the bland chamber could have been a room in a high-class hotel. So far the only warmth she’d seen in the house had been in Davis’s office or around the pool.
    The coldness didn’t matter, she told herself as she walked into the bathroom. She didn’t need coziness. She had Windswept.
    She washed up quickly and hurried downstairs. She was ravenous.
    The screen dividing the dining room from the foyer had been folded together to provide entry. A long, black-glass table ran down the middle of the room under a chandelier Barrett could only describe to herself as a chrome-bar-and-light-bulb contraption. Against the back wall, a stretch of black marble mirrored its opposite in the living room, but where that one had a fireplace and a painting, this one held what looked to be an iridescent crystal sculpture hanging from the ceiling to the floor. It wasn’t a solid piece of glass, but looked almost as if it had been woven, with space between the threads. It seemed to ripple like a cloth tapestry also.
    Eva came in through a door under the balcony with a plate and a large glass of iced tea. Barrett sat down at the lone place setting and Eva put the food in front of her.
    “There’s plenty more salad, maestra . Please, enjoy your lunch.”
    “Thank you. It looks delicious.”
    Barrett took a bite and couldn’t help humming at the taste. The tender shrimp, piquant lime, and smooth avocado offset each other delightfully, and the flour tortillas adding the necessary base line. She’d have to ask Eva for the recipe.
    She looked around as she ate. The room was large, and the table quite long. This space felt just as cold as the living room across the way, and it was not from the air conditioning. She wished she had brought a book to read, as she always did when eating alone. Even the presence of taciturn Davis would be an improvement. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, however, so she