Free Cinderella in Overalls by Carol Grace

went back to her packing while Catherine’s face turned the delicate pink of her sweater.
    “I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “I owe you a dinner. And I’ve got some news for you.”
    She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything. Can’t you just tell me the news? The truck will be here in a few minutes.” She began piling papayas into boxes with potatoes without knowing what she was doing.
    “It will take longer than a few minutes. It will take about three hours, about as long as it takes to eat dinner in a restaurant around here.” He rocked back on his heels, radiating patience, waiting until she made up her mind.
    “Not if you go to the Folklore Club in the city,” she said, smoothing the fabric of her new skirt.
    “Is that the place that’s crowded with Peace Corps volunteers?”
    “Yes, it’s busy and noisy, but the food is good and cheap.”
    He shook his head. “That’s not where we’re going.”
    “Oh.” She was suddenly out of breath and out of fruit and vegetables to pack. The women were starting the trek to the truck, the leftover produce on their backs once again. “How would I get home?” she asked a little desperately.
    “Taxi,” he answered. “I’m going to go get my car, anyway. I have my new hose in here.” He lifted his briefcase, then set it down. “I know what’s bothering you. You don’t know how to tell Jacinda and the women. I’ll handle that.”
    Openmouthed, she watched him waylay Jacinda as she passed with a stack of empty boxes and explained, augmenting his limited Spanish with sign language, that he was taking la Catalina to dinner and would bring her home in a taxi before the rooster crowed.
    There was no mistaking Jacinda’s approval. The look in her eyes was worth a thousand words. And before she knew it Catherine was being hustled out of the marketplace with Josh’s hand firmly on her elbow. Skyscrapers, rising to meet the hills that surrounded the city, cast shadows over the wide streets. Teregape was bathed in a reddish glow.
    With the sun sinking behind the altiplano the temperature was dropping, but Catherine didn’t notice. She felt the warmth of Josh’s hand on her arm. He said he had news. He wouldn’t take her out to dinner to give her bad news, would he? Standing there waiting for a break in the steady stream of cars, she didn’t know.
    She couldn’t think. She could only feel, and what she felt was light-headed and short of breath. And after eighteen months she could hardly blame the altitude. It must be something else.

 
Chapter Four
     
    Stepping off the noisy crowded street and into the Restaurante Roberto was a shock. Suddenly it was calm and quiet. A maitre d’ in a tuxedo glided forward across a tiled floor and bowed from the waist.
    “Buenos noches, Guillermo,” Josh said.
    Guillermo’s eyes flickered over Catherine for a moment, and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Dinner for two, sir?” he asked in heavily accented English.
    Josh nodded and placed his hand on Catherine’s back. They followed Guillermo past deep leather booths that lined the walls. Sconces holding candles shone on solitary diners and large parties alike. In the far corner they settled into soft leather seats on opposite sides of a quiet booth.
    The gilt-tasseled menu lying unopened in front of her, Catherine looked around wide-eyed at the understated elegance of the place. From somewhere on the other side of the room someone was playing an old Rodgers and Hart song on a piano. After lighting the candle on their table, Guillermo slipped discreetly away.
    The candlelight flickered on Josh’s face. His firm jaw was clean-shaven. He didn’t look as if he’d spent the night in a hammock. She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. What if she hadn’t bought these clothes? Would Guillermo have signaled his approval if she’d been wearing her bowler hat and shawl? She opened her menu and skimmed the entries: crepes des champignons, pasta primavera and