Kenneth Chapter. S. M. LAMBERT

she left for the kitchen.

      “I can’t believe that you have a maid,” said Sharron.

      “Like I told you, it’s a big house and somebody has to clean it.”

      “Why does she call you Señor Junior,” asked Sharron.

      “Oh, that. Well, señor is Spanish for mister. She doesn’t feel that it’s proper to call her employer’s son by his first name. So, since she calls my father ‘Señor Gill,’ she calls me ‘Señor Junior’ because I’m Charles Jr.”

      “Oh,” she replied. Sharron raised her arm to look at her watch. “Charles, if we stay for dinner, do you think that we will be too late to go to the beach?”

      “Don’t worry.” Charles said boastfully “I have a Ferrari.”

      Part 3

      Dinner was served on the patio in a very elegant setting. Even Charles had to admit that he had been totally captivated by the enchantment of their dining area. The allure of the fine china on the candlelit table. The romantic soft Latin music, which was piped in through the intercom system, made them feel that a spell had been cast. To top it off, the sun was setting to a red, dusky sky. Maria had outdone herself this time, He thought to himself.

      Charles looked across the table to Sharron, who seemed spellbound. For the first time in his life, through the eyes of someone else, he could understand just how fortunate he was.

      Maria entered and set up a serving tray next to their table. She filled their crystal goblets with sparkling cider. Before departing, she placed before each of them a small dish of homemade Mexican shrimp cocktail.

      Charles watched in amazement as Sharron awkwardly decided on which eating utensil to use. Was basic dining etiquette not taught in the homes of children living in East Palo Alto? he asked himself. Now, things he had learned as a child but had taken for granted—such as which fork is a salad fork, and which spoon is a soup spoon—seemed to have some significance.

      Charles initiated, and she cleverly followed suit. He raised his glass and playfully said, “A toast to our newfound friendship.”

      Sharron giggled as their glasses met.

      As they consumed the last portion of the shrimp cocktail, Maria entered carrying another serving tray. She picked up the small dishes and replaced them with two bowls of homemade Mexican seafood soup. Before leaving, she placed on the center of the table a plate containing an assortment of steamed flour and corn tortillas.

      In the very professional and timely manner in which she had come and gone during the course of the meal, Maria entered with the main course, which consisted of filet mignon wrapped in bacon and covered with sautéed mushrooms; a lobster tail, which had been broiled to perfection in butter; and a baked potato.

      Charles and Sharron were stuffed. They sat at the table unable to move. “I can’t eat another thing,” said Sharron.

      “Neither can I.”

      At that moment, Maria entered with surprisingly nothing else in her hands. “Would Señor Junior or the señorita care for desert?” she asked. “I made a chocolate mousse.”

      “No, thank you,” Charles replied. “Dinner was muy excellente [very excellent].”

      “Muchas gracias, Señor Junior.” Maria began picking up the plates, while Charles and Sharron started toward the front door.

      Once outside, while they were getting into the Ferrari, Charles looked up and saw Maria standing at the front door of the house. He had forgotten that he was not supposed to drive his father’s car. “I’ll be right back, Sharron.” Charles walked back to where Maria was standing. “Did I forget anything?” he asked with presumed innocence.

      “You drive your papa’s car?” asked Maria.

      “Oh, yeah. Dad wanted me to drop it off at the mechanics, so it could be serviced,” he said, trying to keep a straight face, yet feeling guilty for lying to her.