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for Señor Bovio’s almost motherly concern for my comfort and welfare. I had been here barely a few hours, and he was rearranging anything and everything to make things as easy and pleasant for me as could be. If he wanted to spoil me with personally designed and tailored maternity clothes, so be it, I thought, as I ran a brush through my hair again and started out. I wanted to take a short walk and get some air. I had been shut up in the clinic too long, and I was interested in exploring this wonderful estate.
    “Wait!” Señor Bovio shouted from the bottom of the stairway when I appeared and was about to descend. He held up his hand like a traffic officer.
    Next to him was a young, light-brown-haired man in a dark brown suit and matching tie. He carried a black leather satchel and stood nearly as tall as Señor Bovio. I imagined him to be in his early thirties at most. They both stood at the foot of the stairway and looked up at me.
    “I was just going to take a short walk, señor, ” I said.
    “In a while,” Señor Bovio said.
    He and the young man started up the stairway.
    “First, there is one more thing I want to get out of the way immediately. Dr. Denardo will be happy we’ve made these preparations, too.”
    I had forgotten the doctor was yet to come.
    “Please, go back to your bedroom,” he said, waving at me.
    Curious about what else he wanted done, I returned.
    “Delia, this is Mark Corbet from the New Mom Shop on El Paseo,” he said when the two followed me into the bedroom suite.
    El Paseo was the street of fancy and expensive stores, a street I was told was similar to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills or Worth Avenue in Palm Beach. I had been there before, shopping with Tía Isabela.
    “Hi there,” Mark Corbet said.
    I nodded and said hello.
    “One of the things they specialize in is maternity shoes,” Señor Bovio said.
    “There are maternity shoes?” I asked, surprised.
    “Well, you may or may not know that pregnancy will cause your feet to get a good half-size bigger,” Mark Corbet said. “Your shoes should allow for some swelling. Also, you’re better off in low-heeled shoes. Less stress on your spine.”
    I nodded. In Mexico, we wore sandals, so what he was talking about never mattered.
    “However, that doesn’t mean you have to wear something ugly,” he quickly added, smiling at SeñorBovio. “We have some pretty fancy styles. I have a few samples here, and I—”
    “Mark will measure your foot. I’ve explained that I’d like the shoes personally made for you.”
    “Personally? Shoes, too?”
    “ Sí. Mark.”
    Mark Corbet moved into my room quickly and set his satchel on the floor. He took out his mechanism for measuring foot size. I sat on the chair by the vanity table. I was still quite surprised. Tailored maternity clothing and now shoes? Why was it necessary for everything to be made personally for me?
    “I don’t want any cheap imitation materials,” Señor Bovio emphasized. “Exercise is important. You’re going to do a lot of walking, I’m sure, and I don’t want to see you get any blisters.”
    “Oh, we have specially designed walking shoes for pregnant women, too,” Mark Corbet said. He looked up at me. “May I?”
    I nodded, and he slipped off my shoes and began taking foot measurements.
    “No swelling. That’s good,” he said, smiling at me. He held my foot tenderly.
    “Get on with it,” Señor Bovio ordered.
    “Yes, yes. I’m no obstetrician,” he said as he measured, “but wearing maternity support hose helps support tired leg muscles, too. We sell that, of course.”
    “ Sí, she’ll have that,” Señor Bovio said. “You’ll bring it all with the pairs of shoes.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    It suddenly occurred to me that Señor Bovio was having everyone come to the hacienda rather than have me taken to the shops. Even if he didn’t intendfor it to happen, I was in danger of becoming as spoiled as Tía Isabela and especially my cousin Sophia.