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Lara and three of her friends loved music. Each month, they put away a modest amount
from their paychecks so that twice a year they could afford a musical evening featuring a
soloist. This time it would be a guitarist. The performance was scheduled for Saturday
evening at Lara’s condo.

Lara, the only trained musician in her circle, had interviewed three guitarists. The third,
Roberto Gomez, struck her musical fancy. Roberto had studied guitar in Barcelona under a
famous classical guitarist.

Roberto was affordable and handsome. His skin was smooth and the color of beer. His
eyes were almond shaped and dark as the richest earth. When he smiled, Lara found
herself holding her breath.

Not only did Roberto play, but he sang. He sang songs centuries old originating from the
hills near Seville to the coastal region of Valencia. His baritone voice was melodious and
textured. Lara could not believe she had found such a treasure. She hired him immediately
after she had coaxed him to play and sing a few songs.

Saturday arrived quickly. Before dressing, Lara prepared appetizers and placed bottles of
white wine on ice. She chose a silk, seashell halter top, a floor-length light blue skirt, and
medium heeled blue shoes to match her skirt. This combination went nicely with her fair
skin, ice blue eyes, and blonde hair, which she wore, swept behind her head and held in
place with a golden comb. She may not have been the prettiest of her circle, but she did
have a well-exercised body, a long swan-like neck, and a radiant, clear complexion.

As she made last-minute adjustments while musing about the evening, the telephone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Lara. Eric came home from school with a temperature of one hundred and two. I’m
waiting to hear from our doctor. I’m going to have to pass on this evening,” said Emily.

“Oh, Em. Sorry to hear that Eric isn’t well and that you won’t be here. Please let me know
when Eric’s okay.”

“Thanks, Lara. Got to run.”
Lara looked at her watch. It was 7:30 P.M. Annie, Steffie, and Roberto would arrive soon. It
was time to check appetizers and ice and make sure the living room was prepared. As Lara
walked to the kitchen, the phone rang. It was Annie. She was involved in a fender-bender.
“No injuries, just car damage. The tow truck should be arriving in an hour or so. Looks like I’
ll be tied up through the evening.”

“Glad to hear that you weren’t hurt…,” said Lara.

Steffie’s call came within a few minutes. She, too, had a problem that would preclude her
attendance. Lara thought what am I to do? My circle of friends has cancelled out. What do I
tell Roberto?

The door bell rang. Sure seems like bad news comes in clusters, she thought as she
walked quickly to the door and opened it. There stood Roberto in a black tuxedo holding
his guitar case.

“Buenos noches, Senorita Lara,” he said, as he looked into her eyes and took her hand in
his. He smiled. Lara’s heart fluttered and her knees buckled slightly. She led him into the
living room.

“Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” Damn, what an
unexpected turn of events, she thought as she walked to the kitchen. She returned with two
glasses of wine and a tray of appetizers. As they settled into their chairs, Lara, holding
back tears, told him of the calls from her friends.
When she finished, Roberto paused while rubbing his chin. Lara didn’t know what else to
say or what to expect. Holding her breath, she hoped he would understand.

“I would like to come again, at our mutual convenience, and play for you and your friends.
This evening, you have gone to much trouble to prepare for a concert. If you are
agreeable, I would be pleased to serenade you with my guitar and my singing. Of course,
this would be strictly a social event.” He had leaned towards her as he spoke, then sat back
and looked gently into her eyes.

With a sigh of relief, Lara said, “Oh yes, Roberto. Not only is it agreeable, I, too, would be
so pleased.” They began to talk, and sip, and sample the appetizers.

After about a half hour, “Lara, it is time for the serenade. I shall like to begin.” With that,
Roberto removed his guitar from its case, checked its tuning, sat again in the seat next to
her and began with a Spanish galliard. His fingers moved quickly across the strings with
practiced dexterity. He played the dolce music of Spain, France, and England of the 17th
and 18th centuries.

The more he played, the more rapt Lara became. When her eyes closed, she envisioned a
beach with golden, warm sand and heard strange and wonderful music.

After the final song, Roberto returned the guitar and closed its case. He sat back and said,
“I hope you enjoyed my playing and singing?”

“Oh, Roberto, I don’t have words to describe my feelings. It was wonderful. You are so
talented.”

They talked a few minutes longer. Lara said, “I shall talk with my friends and call you soon. I
so look forward to seeing you again.”

Roberto took her hand, smiled, said “Buenos noches, Lara,” and departed.

She walked to the living room and sat in the same chair. With her eyes closed, she
returned to the beach of the sun-warmed, Spanish sands and watched the dark skinned
man with the almond eyes approach her.