Chapter 8

           Anhouraftertheplanecrossedtheborder,Bethwasabsorbedinpawn-structureanalysisandMrs.WheatleywasdrinkingherthirdbottleofCervezaCorona.“Beth,”Mrs.Wheatleysaid,“Ihaveaconfessiontomake.”

           Bethputthebookdown,reluctantly.

           Mrs.Wheatleyseemednervous.“Doyouknowwhatapenpalis,dear?”

           “Someoneyoutradeletterswith.”

           “Exactly!WhenIwasinhighschool,ourSpanishclasswasgivenalistofboysinMexicowhowerestudyingEnglish.Ipickedoneandsenthimaletteraboutmyself.”Mrs.Wheatleygavealittlelaugh.“HisnamewasManuel.Wecorrespondedforalongtime—evenwhileIwasmarriedtoAllston.Weexchangedphotographs.”Mrs.Wheatleyopenedherpurse,rummagedthroughitandproducedabentsnapshotwhichshehandedtoBeth.Itwasapictureofathin-facedman,surprisinglypale-looking,withapencil-thinmustache.Mrs.Wheatleyhesitatedandsaid,“Manuelwillbemeetingusattheairport.”

           Bethhadnoobjectiontothis;itmightevenbeagoodthingtohaveaMexicanfriend.ButshewasputoffbyMrs.Wheatley’smanner.“Haveyoumethimbefore?”

           “Never.”SheleanedoverinherseatandsqueezedBeth’sforearm.“Youknow,I’mreallyquitethrilled.”

           Bethcouldseethatshewasalittledrunk.“Isthatwhyyouwantedtocomedownearly?”

           Mrs.Wheatleypulledbackandstraightenedthesleevesofherbluecardigan.“Isupposeso,”shesaid.

           ***

           “Sicomono?”Mrs.Wheatleysaid.“Andhedressessowell,andopensdoorsformeandordersdinnerbeautifully.