“I brought you some macarons,” María José purred into Carlos’s ear.
That could only mean one thing: the retired pastry chef was in the mood for a little mischief. The elderly woman was far too shy to openly express her desires. Instead, she preferred to deliver coded messages to her lover. A grilled sandwich, for instance, meant María José wanted to make love—but didn’t have much time.
Carlos didn’t mind his lady’s reserve in the slightest. In fact, he found it thrilling that they could communicate through phrases that would mean something completely different to everyone else. He even took great delight in dropping such double-meaning phrases into casual conversation, making María José blush to the tips of her ears.
“I’m craving something sweet,” he once declared at a barbecue, where ten guests were seated around the table on his terrace. “I’d just love to devour macarons until I run out of breath.”
The cheeky old man couldn’t help himself on another occasion either, when a few neighbors were lounging by the pool and María José showed up shortly after.
“Hello there, neighbor,” he greeted his secret lover. “You wouldn’t happen to have any grilled sandwiches with you? I could toss back three in a row.”
At moments like these, the woman blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.
But today was different. María José wasn’t in a hurry. She longed for a long embrace, a heartfelt conversation. Especially because she came with a mission—not one given to her by anyone else, but one she had chosen for herself, on behalf of her friend.
“Tell me, darling,” she began in a honeyed voice, “that friend of yours who was widowed last year—is he doing any better?”
“Esteban? I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Why do you ask?”
“I thought it might be a nice gesture to invite him over for an afternoon tapas platter. I’m sure he could use some company.”
Carlos squinted, studying his lover.
“A nice gesture? Esteban? The man you’ve only seen once, and that was in passing? What are you up to?”
“Oh, Carlos, I don’t know what you mean…”
“María José,” he interrupted, ignoring her mock offense, “I don’t buy it. Just spit it out—what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“Okay, fine,” she gave in with a sigh. “I thought we could set him up with Ludmilla.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Carlos jumped out of bed. “With that grumpy, grouchy old woman?”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Exaggerate? I haven’t even started saying what I really think of her. You can’t possibly think I’d inflict that witch on anyone.”
“We’re talking about a lonely man and a lonely woman.”
“No one—and I mean no one—could be that lonely.”
“That’s just mean.”
“Besides,” Carlos exclaimed, suddenly clutching his head, “I just remembered—she’s married.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t make me laugh. She and Israel don’t even speak to each other.”
“Still, it’s immoral to go after another man’s wife. I can’t encourage any friend of mine to do something like that.”
“You don’t have to encourage anyone. All you need to do is invite them both over. The heavens will handle the rest.”
María José wouldn’t give up. Once she set her mind on something, nothing could talk her out of it. And she had promised her friend she would find her a lover.
“I have an offer for you, Carlos.”
Her tone shifted completely. The soft, romantic purring was replaced by a firm, businesslike voice.
“Oh! Really?” Carlos chuckled. “And what would that be? A bubble bath treat?”
“Ted’s box of notes.”
Her cheeks flushed red with anticipation, her chest heaved, and she trembled as she waited for his reaction.
Carlos’s face went slack, his lips parted in shock. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes filled with confusion.
“W-what?” he whispered.
“You heard me,” María José replied, now unsure of herself.
In that moment, she deeply regretted revealing her secret.
Carlos said nothing. He dropped his face into his hands and slowly shook his head from side to side.
“Would you please leave?” he asked, after what felt like an endlessly painful silence.