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“Daniel is an old friend of the family,” Bea explained. “And the only one who ever had the courage to tell me to my face that I’m stuck up and vain.”
Velázquez looked at me with astonishment.
“That was years ago,” I explained. “And I didn’t mean it.”
“Well, I’m still waiting for an apology.”
Velázquez laughed heartily and took the parcel from my hands.
“I think I’m in the way here,” he said, opening it. “Ah, wonderful. Listen, Daniel, tell your father I’m looking for a book calledMoorslayer: Early Reminiscences of the Generalissimo in the Moroccan War by Francisco Franco Bahamonde, with a prologue and notes by Pemán.”
“Consider it done. We’ll let you know in a couple of weeks.”
“I take your word for it, and now I’ll be off. Thirty-two blank minds await me.”
Professor Velázquez winked at me and disappeared into the lecture room. I didn’t know where to look.
“Listen Bea, about that insult, I promise I—”
“I was only teasing you, Daniel. I know that was kid stuff, and besides, Tomás gave you a good enough beating.”
“It still hurts.”
Bea’s smile looked like a peace offering, or at least an offer of a truce.
“Besides, you were right, I’m a bit stuck up and sometimes a little vain,” she said. “You don’t like me much, do you, Daniel?”
The question took me completely by surprise. Disarmed, I realized how easily you can lose all animosity toward someone you’ve deemed your enemy as soon as that person stops behaving as such.
“No, that’s not true.”
“Tomás says it’s not that you don’t like me, it’s that you can’t stand my father and you make me pay for it, because you don’t dare face up to him. I don’t blame you. No one dares cross my father.”
I felt the blood drain from my cheeks, but after a few seconds I found myself smiling and nodding. “Anyone would say Tomás knows me better than I do myself.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. My brother knows us all inside out, only he never says anything. But if he ever decides to open his mouth, the whole world will collapse. He’s very fond of you, you know.”
I raised my shoulders and looked down.
“He’s always talking about you, and about your father and the bookshop, and this friend you have working with you. Tomás says he’s a genius waiting to be discovered. Sometimes it’s as if he considers you his real family, instead of the one he has at home.”
My eyes met hers: hard, frank, fearless. I did not know what to say, so I just smiled. I felt she was ensnaring me with her honesty, and I looked down at the courtyard.
“I didn’t know you studied here.”
“It’s my first year.”
“Literature?”
“My father thinks science is not for the weaker sex.”
“Of course. Too many numbers.”
“I don’t care, because what I like is reading. Besides, you meet interesting people here.”
“Like Professor Velázquez?”
Bea gave me a wry smile. “I might be in my first year, but I know enough to see them coming, Daniel. Especially men of his sort.”
