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The last was an order. The glass partition rolled up. I slid home the lock. Mel ... or any driver ... can’t unlock it from the front.“What seems to be the problem, Anna?”“The Banco Urquijo.”“What is that?”“An Investment Bank. People with money deposit funds in the bank, the bank loans your money ... at interest ... for Projects. Córdoba has a significant percentage of our liquidity on deposit with the Banco. Not necessarily because of the interest but because the owner, María Lourdes de Urquijo owns the Bank.”“Who is that?”“María Lourdes de Urquijo?” Anna said.I nodded.“María Lourdes de Urquijo, is the 5thMarchioness of Urquijo and Casilda’s very good friend,” Anna said. “The Banco isn’t doing very well. The Marchioness has a daughter ... in London, London is expensive. Miriam de la Sierra y Urquijo, married Rafael Escobedo ... a very handsome young man. A year after the marriage ... in 1979 ... Miriam began keeping company with an American, Richard Dennis Rew, Dick the American.. Well that night came and I had brought a black dress that looked great on me. It was a little short a bit tight and had to be worn without a bra. After I put it on I thought maybe it was a little too sexy but figured what the hell. Well as expected my husband did not even notice, as he was too busy watching a ball game.I arrived at the party and the first person I saw was on old ex named Joe, he had gained a little weight on his thin frame of years ago but still looked handsome. Joe and I had dated in freshman year and then again for a while in my junior year, he was a great guy but had been very quiet. I never slept with him and don't think I had gotten past a breast feel as he was pretty shy and I was not very aggressive in those days.Well right away I realized he was quiet and shy no more as he came right over gave me a big hug and a peck on the lips. He couldn't stop looking at me and saying how great I looked and how pretty my dress was. Well the complement and the strong air.
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After I’d finished in the bathroom, I went out to the kitchen and was surprised to find Mother there alone. She was wearing another of her faded housedresses and had an old apron tied around her waist. She heard me coming, turned around, and smiled at me. ‘Good mornin’, J.J.,’ she said. ‘Good morning,’ I replied. ‘Where’s he?’ Mother knew I was talking about my father. Her smile got brighter. ‘Gone,’ she said. ‘Believe it or not, he came home sober – at least sober for him – last night. He got up early, had a cup of coffee and took off.’ I wanted to let myself feel excited, but I wasn’t sure I should. ‘He say when he’s coming home?’ I asked. Mother’s smile got brighter. She turned down the burner on the gas stove, set the spatula she was holding her hand on the stove, and started toward me, wiping her hands her hands on her apron as she walked. When she reached me, she wrapped one arm around my waist, grabbed my head with the other hand, plastered her body against mine, and gave me a.

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