red moon over west virginia -- 21. the empty shop

by jeremy witherington

part 21 of 36

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

don carlos hesitated in front of the coffee shop. had he in fact been there too often, too recently, and would he be in danger of becoming too familiar a face? he glanced into the window of the shop. it seemed empty of customers. and, there seemed to be a hint of rain in the air. he entered the shop. the little gray haired woman who seemed to be the proprietor and sole custodian of the establishment looked up at him with her habitual expression of polite expectation. don carlos immediately perecived that he was not the sole customer in the shop. a woman no longer young but still somewhat attractive and undeniably well groomed, sat alone at a small corner table sipping an espresso. she had avoided his notice by being seated directly beside the window. had he glanced even slightly to his left as he had looked in the window, he would have spotted her. in any case, he did not recognize her. may i help you, sir? the woman behind the counter asked him. if i recall, when you were last here you ordered a pink cake and an espresso. you have an excellent memory, madame, don carlos replied with a smile. this morning i will again have an espresso, but i will complement it with a white cake. don carlos took his espresso and white cake to the table next to the well groomed woman’s and sat down. a bleak morning, he observed to the woman. eva peron, for it was she, looked out the window. so it is. i had not really noticed. ah, you are absorbed in your own affairs, no doubt. no, i take a great interest in the doings of others, and pride myself on my knowledge of world affairs, particularly those involving the markets. i am a stranger here, don carlos smiled. are thre skies always so gray? and are the streets always so empty? perhaps the inhabitants stay up late. eva replied. and will come out and brighten the landscape with their smiling presence as the day gets on. i apologize if i bore you with my small talk. not at all, sir. i find interest in the smallest things. eva took a sip of her espresso. you are a philosopher. i prefer the humble description of observer. and what are you observing now, if i may ask? i observe that, threadbare as your suit is, it is of the finest cut and in the portugese style, perhaps from varino’s, the renowned tailor of lisbon. next